by Clayton Wood
...shields, what a...
“Twelve shields,” he murmured, staring at her. “What a coincidence.”
“Leave us alone!” Ariana cried, glancing at Erasmus. The man was still breathing, but his breaths were getting shallow, his face pale and sweaty. Ibicus said nothing, a ball of fire appearing before him, then shooting out toward her. It snuffed out almost instantly.
“What an enormous coincidence,” he repeated, shaking his head slowly at Ariana. “That's the same defense I programmed into the Dead Man's shard.” He stared at Ariana curiously. “He used it on you, didn't he?”
Ariana said nothing, sidestepping closer to Erasmus, her eyes on Ibicus. She knew she couldn't defeat the man, but if she could grab Erasmus and get away...
“Fascinating that I can't access your shard,” Ibicus continued, watching her as she moved. “Your benefactor must have altered it.” He shook his head then, marveling at Ariana. “I would very much like to meet him.”
“What are you talking about?” Ariana retorted.
“You really don't know, do you?” Ibicus murmured. “It doesn't matter...he'll be forced to show himself eventually...or let the Empire be taken. Either way, I get what I want.”
“Go to hell.”
“I live there,” Ibicus retorted. Then he sighed. “Now, I would love to keep you,” he added, “...but unfortunately I have a plan to execute, and I can't have you getting in the way. As you can imagine, I created the Dead Man's shard with a few...vulnerabilities, in case he ever lost faith.”
Ariana inched closer to Erasmus, now only six or so feet from the ailing Runic. She kept her eyes on Ibicus, weaving the gravity pattern. If she could pull Erasmus out into the hallway, she could alert the guards...
She nearly slapped her forehead. Of course!
“Guards!” she screamed, leaping for the door. She thrust out the gravity pattern, a sphere surrounding Erasmus. She pulled on it with her mind, lifting Erasmus from the floor and bringing him to the door.
“Oh, don't bother,” Ibicus stated. Ariana spun around, facing the Elder Runic. “They're not really Battle-Weavers, dear...they're all Mine. And one will be coming in shortly to take the credit for Erasmus's death...and yours.”
The gravity shields surrounding Ariana vanished one by one, until they were no more. She felt her crystal react, felt it weave magic insanely fast, more gravity shields appearing around her. A bolt of light crackled in the air between them, striking Ibicus's shields, which wavered, then vanished. But they reappeared quickly, and despite frenzied weaving from her crystal, its every pattern was countered instantly.
Ibicus smirked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the same dagger he'd used on Erasmus. Ariana lunged to the side, but Ibicus moved just as quickly, barring her way with his shields and shoving her up against the wall. He pressed the tip of the dagger against the inner surface of his gravity shields, shoving it through one layer, then another. The tip inched closer and closer to Ariana's neck, moving through the shields as if they weren't even there. She squirmed, pressing her palms against Ibicus's shields and pushing hard. Ibicus didn't budge, but she felt the wall behind her creak, the marble cracking under the pressure. She pushed as hard as she could, hoping to break the wall behind her with her newfound strength, but it held.
“My my, aren't you strong,” Ibicus murmured. “I look forward to seeing what upgrades were performed on your shard...after I pull it from your skull.”
The dagger's blade sliced through each gravity field until the edge pressed up against the right side of Ariana's neck, pushing inward slowly, the skin denting under the pressure.
Then the door burst open.
Ariana saw a man in black robes dash into the room, saw Erasmus slide across the floor with remarkable speed toward him. The black-robed man leaped over Erasmus as he slid underneath, the Grand Runic continuing until he'd slid right out of the doorway. The door slammed behind him, and the black-robed man stood facing Ibicus, pointing a lone finger at the Councilman.
“Let her go.”
Ariana's eyes widened in recognition; it was Master Owens! The gray-haired Weaver stood tall before Ibicus, facing the Councilman defiantly. Ibicus turned to face Owens, but did not release Ariana.
“Thank god you're here!” Ibicus exclaimed, nodding toward Ariana, his dagger still pressed against her neck. “She murdered Erasmus, she's a traitor!”
“Hardly,” Master Owens replied, his voice cool. “I said let her go, Councilman,” he warned. Ibicus shook his head.
“She's not Ariana anymore, Owens,” Ibicus countered. “She's been killed...see how pale she is? Those bastards turned her into one of the Chosen.”
Ariana's eyes widened, and she turned to Owens, trying to speak, to defend herself. But Ibicus's gravity shields held her fast to the wall, the force so powerful that she couldn't take a breath in to speak. She saw Master Owens stare at her for a long moment, saw his resolve wavering. She wanted to scream, but could only shake her head mutely. Ibicus's blade still pressed into the side of her neck, digging deeper into her flesh.
“Why didn't you have your guards help you detain her and get Erasmus to safety?” Owens asked, lowering his hand. “It took a lot of convincing to get them to let me in.”
“Erasmus and I were having a meeting,” Ibicus replied. “My Battle-Weavers were instructed not to allow anyone in.”
“I see,” Owens stated. He relaxed then, gesturing at Ariana. “Let me take her then,” he added. “We'll need to interrogate her...she may have valuable information.”
“It's too dangerous,” Ibicus countered. “We need to kill her now before she conjures Xanos and kills us all.”
“I'm a far better warrior than you are,” Owens reasoned. “If a Runic with no combat experience can handle her, I shouldn't have any problems.”
Ibicus said nothing, staring at Master Owens for a long moment. Owens glanced back at the door he'd entered from.
“About your guards,” he continued, gesturing toward the door. “I've trained just about every Battle-Runic in the Empire, and I swear I've never seen them before.” He shook his head then, turning back to Ibicus. “They certainly could've used my training,” he added. “I didn't have any trouble at all killing them when they refused to let me enter.”
Ibicus stared at Master Owens for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. A half-dozen gravity shields appeared around Owens, warping the light around him.
“Fine then,” Ibicus sighed. “Would you rather I burn this city to the ground than have Me lead you?”
“We lead ourselves,” Owens countered coldly.
“You're like ignorant children,” Ibicus muttered. “You worship the Ancients? In a generation, you could surpass them!”
“We will surpass them,” Owens stated. “On our own terms, by ourselves.”
“You'll fail,” Ibicus countered. “Just like every other civilization since the Ancients failed. Man requires a hand to guide them, to steer them from self-destruction. To save them from themselves.”
“Let her go,” Owens growled, taking a step toward Ibicus. Suddenly, Owens' gravity shields vanished, and he was thrust backward against the wall...hard. The Weaver's head struck the wall with a sickening thump, and he fell immediately to the floor, his head bouncing off of the granite tile. Ariana tried to bolt from where she was pinned to the wall, scrambling with her arms and legs to free herself, but it was no use. She could only watch as Owens lay unmoving on the floor.
Ibicus turned back to her, and sighed.
“What a waste to kill you all,” he lamented. Then he thrust his arm leftward, the dagger slicing across the front of Ariana's neck.
* * *
Ariana cried out as Ibicus attacked, feeling the cool, sharp edge of his dagger sink into her flesh. Pain lanced through her neck, the right side of her body going suddenly numb.
And then there was an explosion.
Millions of gray particles shot upward toward the ceiling over her head, arcing agains
t the white marble of the ceiling, then falling like snowflakes all around her. The world tilted crazily, and she felt herself falling to the right, her shoulder slamming into the floor, then her head. She lay there, her temple on the cold floor, staring at the gray particles as they rained down in front of her, forming a thin layer on the glossy granite.
And then there was a flash of gold.
Ariana blinked, seeing a golden boot step into her field of view. A gauntleted hand reached down, wrapping around her shoulders. She felt another arm scoop under her knees. And then she was rising upward off of the ground.
Eyes stared down at her, brilliant blue against golden skin.
Darius, she tried to whisper, but only a faint hissing sound came out. He stared at her silently.
She felt a sudden burning in her right leg, felt it come alive again, muscles twitching uncontrollably under her skin. The burning spread to her arm, her fingers feeling as though they were on fire. Her hand clenched into a fist, spasms running through her forearm, and then the feeling passed. She felt a slight tingling sensation in her neck, and panicked, reaching her fingers up to it, feeling only smooth skin there.
“Darius,” she whispered again, but this time she heard her own voice calling out, saw the bodyguard's lips smile, though his eyes did not. There was something in his expression, something she had never seen there before.
“Hey kiddo,” he murmured. His voice was soft, almost tender. It didn't seem right coming from the gruff bodyguard. Ariana stared at him for a long moment, then glanced down at where Ibicus had been standing seconds ago. Only a pile of gray dust remained, the tip of a long green crystal embedded in the center of it.
“What happened?” she asked, turning back to Darius.
“You're safe now,” Darius murmured, wrapping his arms around her in gentle embrace. “I won't let them hurt you anymore.”
Chapter 23
Kyle ran down the last flight of stairs, Kalibar right behind him. They were both huffing and puffing from the exertion, having descended forty stories, stopping only to retrieve Kalibar's weapon from the archives. Darius had taken the thing, a modified crossbow of sorts, and had been leading them down the stairs when he'd inexplicably sped up, leaving Kyle and Kalibar far behind. They'd both called after the bodyguard, who had, as usual, ignored them. Kyle nearly collapsed when they finally reached the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the wall with one hand and gasping to catch his breath before Kalibar passed him, yanking the door open.
“Go,” Kalibar urged, striding out into the hallway beyond. Kyle groaned, irritated that the old Weaver, a stickler for exercise, could have outrun him. He stumbled after the man, struggling to keep up. The stairway had taken them to a hallway leading to the main lobby of the Tower; directly across from them, Kyle saw two bodies lying on the floor. Kalibar ran to them, and Kyle realized immediately that they were Battle-Weavers...and that they were most certainly dead. He heard shouting from further down the hallway, and saw a group of guards and Battle-Weavers rushing away from them, toward the lobby. They were carrying someone, a man in white robes by the looks of it; drops of his blood marked their path.
“Erasmus!” Kalibar shouted, sprinting madly after the men. Kyle followed behind the old man. They reached the lobby, following the group of guards to the center of it. The guards lowered the white-robed man to the ground gently, and Kyle caught a glimpse of the man's face; it was indeed Erasmus, but he was clearly unconscious, and extraordinarily pale. His clothes were soaked in wet redness; Kyle could only assume it was blood.
The guards parted before Kalibar, allowing the Grand Weaver to reach Erasmus's side. Kalibar dropped to his knees beside his old friend, panic in his eyes.
“Erasmus!” he cried. Then he glanced up at one of the guards. “What's happened?” he demanded. “Is he alive?”
“Barely,” one of the guards answered. Indeed, the Grand Runic was breathing, his chest rising and falling rapidly but shallowly. Kyle felt fear grip his innards; Erasmus was alive, but he wouldn't be for long.
“Get a doctor here, now!” Kalibar ordered, pointing directly at one of the guards. The man nodded, dashing off to complete his task. Then Kalibar turned to Kyle. “Give me your magic,” he demanded, his voice stern. “All of you,” he added, turning toward the Battle-Weavers scattered among the guards. Kyle complied, watching as lines of blue magic shot toward Kalibar from all directions. Kalibar himself turned to face Erasmus; the Grand Runic's robes split in the middle, the fabric tearing under Kalibar's power, exposing the flesh underneath. Kyle immediately spotted Erasmus's injuries; three stab wounds on the side of his chest, just below the right armpit.
Kalibar bent over Erasmus so that his ear was near his chest, then tapped Erasmus's right chest with two fingers. Then he moved to squat by Erasmus's feet, staring at Erasmus's chest as it rose and fell. He glanced upward at one of the guards nearby, pointing directly at the man.
“Get me a table long enough to hold a man,” he ordered. Kalibar turned to another guard. “You, get me a small tube,” he commanded. He turned to a third guard, asking for balm-tree sap. All three ran off, and less than a minute later, a table was brought in. Kalibar ordered Erasmus lifted onto the table, then asked one of the guards for a blade, and was handed a small knife. To Kyle's utter astonishment, Kalibar placed the blade on the side of Erasmus's chest over one of the puncture wounds, cutting into the flesh there to elongate the wound. Then he spread the skin edges apart with the fingers of his left hand, exposing the fat and muscle. Kalibar cut into the muscle between Erasmus's ribs, then reached into the incision with one finger, twisting his wrist and pressing hard. Kyle heard a sudden pop, followed by a hissing sound as air escaped from Erasmus's chest. The Grand Runic's color improved almost immediately, his flesh turning from dusky to pink, and he groaned, thrashing about on the table. Kalibar ordered the guards to hold Erasmus's arms and legs, while another pressed the man's pelvis to the table.
A guard handed Kalibar a small, long metallic tube, no greater in diameter than a man's thumb, and Kalibar slipped this into the incision he'd made. Kyle saw a blue, disc-shaped gravity field appear at the end of the tube, and air began whooshing out of the tube, followed by clumps of maroon clots. After a few moments, nothing more came out, and Kalibar took a jar of balm-tree sap, slathering it on the incision on either side of the tube. The skin began pulling together almost immediately, and Kalibar slathered the sap onto the base of the tube, holding it in place.
A man in a red uniform and black pants – the uniform of a field surgeon, Kyle knew – appeared, the crowd of guards parting for him. The man glanced at Kalibar, then at Erasmus, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Kalibar turned to the surgeon, his expression grave.
“He's been stabbed three times in the chest,” he stated, pointing to the wounds. “The lung was collapsed; I released the pressure from air trapped around his lung and placed this chest tube.”
“I see,” the surgeon replied, regarding Kalibar's handiwork. “Well done, Grand Weaver,” he added. Then he hesitated. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“I saw a few such surgeries performed in battle,” Kalibar answered. “Though I never had the opportunity to perform one myself until now.” The surgeon and the guards all stared at Kalibar – as did Kyle – amazed at the Grand Weaver's courage...and skill.
“We'll get him to the operating suite,” the surgeon promised. Within moments, Erasmus was lifted from the table onto a levitating gurney, and whisked away.
Kalibar asked for a pot, creating a stream of water to splash on his hands, rinsing the blood from them. Kyle saw the crowd part suddenly, and Ariana strode in, walking beside Master Owens. Kyle whooped with delight, running up to Ariana and wrapping his arms around her. He picked her up, twirling her about, and then put her down.
“You're alive!” he blurted out, his spirit soaring. Ariana gave him a subdued smile, and Kyle winced, realizing his poor choice of words. But Ariana put a cold hand on his shoulder, squeezi
ng it gently.
“I'm okay,” she corrected. Then Kalibar embraced her, holding her tightly for a moment and whispering something into her ear. He pushed her gently away then, turning to Master Owens. The man looked dazed, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood.
“What happened?” Kalibar asked. Owens gestured to Ariana, who brought one hand forward, opening her fingers to reveal a long, tapered green crystal.
“They turned Ibicus with this,” she explained. “He tried to kill Erasmus and Owens.”
“And Ariana,” Owens interjected, rubbing the back of his head gingerly.
“Ibicus is dead?” Kalibar pressed. Ariana nodded. “Damn,” Kalibar swore. “If he'd killed Erasmus, he'd have been next in line for Grand Runic...and no one would have been the wiser.” He shook his head then, turning to stare down the hallway that Erasmus had been carried off to. “Hang in there, old friend,” he murmured.
“Luckily your bodyguard reached us in time,” Owens stated. “Ariana tells me he used this to kill Ibicus,” he added, holding up a crossbow. It was Kalibar's weapon; a standard crossbow, except there was a metallic, rune-inscribed rod welded in where the bolts would have gone. Owens handed it to Kalibar.
“It killed a Chosen?” Kalibar asked. Owens nodded. Kalibar gave a weary smile. “That's the best news I've heard all day.” He frowned then. “Where is Darius?”
“He left,” Ariana answered, rubbing the side of her neck absently. When Kalibar lifted an eyebrow, she shrugged. “He said he needed to take care of something.”
“Something more important than doing his job?” Kalibar retorted. “We've got a war out there,” he added, gesturing toward the double doors of the lobby. He turned to one of the Battle-Weavers surrounding them. “You...I need High Weaver Urson here now. Stridon is under attack; the Southwest Quarter is in flames. We need to identify the threat and issue a counterattack.” The Battle-Weaver bowed, then vanished into the crowd.