by Clayton Wood
“That,” he answered, “...is complicated.”
“Identify yourself,” Owens commanded, “...or suffer the consequences.”
The old man raised one eyebrow, regarding Owens with a critical eye.
“Now now,” he stated, “...show some respect for your elders, Owens.” Master Owens frowned.
“How...”
“Do I know your name?” the wretch interjected. He smirked. “You'll find there is little I don't know,” he continued. “Or maybe you won't. It all depends on you,” he added, pointing one gnarled finger at Kalibar.
“Are you with Xanos?” Owens pressed. The old man sighed.
“Always asking the wrong questions,” he lamented. “You should pay more attention.”
“What do you mean?” Kalibar interjected. “What depends on me?”
“Your fate,” the old man answered.
Kalibar stared at him, the strategic part of his mind automatically assessing the situation. Despite numerous deadly weapons aimed directly at him, the old man had no gravity shields protecting him. Indeed, there was only a faint glow of magic around the man. Which meant that he was a Weaver or Runic, but not extraordinarily gifted in magic production. Yet he showed absolutely no fear, despite facing some of the most gifted Weavers in the world.
Which means he's a fool, Kalibar concluded. Or very, very dangerous.
“Can you elaborate?” he asked.
“My Empire is at the brink of a revolution,” the wretch declared. Goran's eyes widened at that.
“Your Empire?”
“You will lead the way to a level of progress unprecedented in human history, Kalibar,” the old man continued, ignoring the Councilman. “This is my gift to you. This will be your great legacy...what countless future generations will remember you for.”
“You're Xanos,” Kalibar deduced. The old man chuckled.
“Which Xanos?” he asked. “The 'god' worshiped by mindless religious fanatics? No. Any leader would recognize that as propaganda.” He smirked. “Useful propaganda, mind you.”
“So Xanos isn't real?” Kalibar pressed.
“You weren't listening,” the old man chided. “Xanos the god is an illusion. Xanos itself is very real.”
“I don't understand.”
“You don't need to,” the wretch replied. “As I said, you will lead the revolution.” He smiled grotesquely. “I want it to be you,” he added. “You're a man of great principle, Kalibar...in fact, you remind me of myself when I was your age.”
“And if I refuse?” Kalibar pressed. The old man sighed, then reached into a pocket in his tattered cloak, retrieving a long, tapered green crystal. Kalibar's breath caught in his throat.
“You'll do it anyway,” the old man replied.
Kalibar froze, staring at the crystal, at its glittering facets. Imagined it sinking through his skull, piercing his brain.
“Wrong answer,” Kalibar stated. “Kill him.”
The Runics fired their killerpillar weapons at the old man. Or rather, beams of bright blue light shot from each weapon – and from each Runic, and from Owens – toward the old man's body. Owens' gravity shields vanished instantly.
The old man stood there unharmed, shaking his head.
“Clever,” he murmured. “Reverse-engineering the killerpillar's abilities. Tell me...how did you do it?”
Kalibar stared at the old man, swallowing in a dry throat. There was no magic radiating from any of the Runics anymore, or from Owens. None at all. And yet the faint blue glow around the old man hadn't brightened.
“How are you doing this?” Kalibar asked, taking a step back. The old man raised an eyebrow at him.
“How did you get your eyes back?” he countered. “Who killed so many of my Chosen?” When Kalibar didn't respond, the old man gestured at Ariana. “Who created that little masterpiece?”
Kalibar took another step back, glancing at Ariana.
“Tell you what,” the wretch continued. “I'll make you a deal. You tell me who did all these wonderful things, and I won't kill your children.”
“You wouldn't,” Kalibar retorted, stepping between Kyle and the old man. The old man rolled his eyes, gesturing at the devastation around him...and the burning Southwest Quarter in the distance.
“Really?”
“Don't do this,” Kalibar urged.
“You know my terms,” the old man shot back. “Give me a name.”
“I don't know who...”
“Well that's a shame,” the wretch interrupted. He raised the butt of his cane at Ariana. “I'll take her first.”
“No!”
A gravity sphere appeared around Ariana, shoving Goran backward onto the ground. She levitated in mid-air in the center of the sphere, still unconscious.
“As I recall,” the old man murmured, “...this little bird doesn't like fire.” He gave a crooked smile. “I do think she should be awake for this, don't you?”
“Wait!” Kalibar pleaded. “I think I know who it is!” The old man cocked his head to one side.
“I'm listening.”
Kalibar took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly.
“I believe the man who helped me,” he stated, “...who helped Ariana,” he added. “...is Ampir.”
Kalibar felt Kyle tense up behind him, heard the boy gasp. The old man glanced at the boy, then back at Kalibar, his expression unchanged.
Then he lowered his cane.
“Ampir,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Kalibar replied. “I think...” he began to add, but the old man raised one hand to stop him. A chuckle escaped his lips, sounding more like a death rattle than anything else.
“Ampir,” he repeated, chuckling again. He shook his head. “The Ampir, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“I do believe,” the old man stated, “...that you are correct.” He gave a horrid smirk. “In fact, I believe I met him recently.” He shook his head again. “Always was remarkably clever, that one. I knew I recognized him from somewhere.”
Kalibar glanced at Owens, who shrugged. The old man raised an eyebrow.
“You don't know, do you?” he mused. “The gods take strange forms when they walk among us, eh? I suppose I'm no different.”
“What do you mean?” Kalibar asked.
“Never mind,” the old man replied. “Well then,” he continued, lowering his gaze to the ground and tapping the butt of his cane on the ground. “This changes things a bit, I think.”
“My children...” Kalibar began.
“Yes, yes,” the old man muttered, waving one hand dismissively. The gravity sphere around Ariana vanished, dropping her to the ground with a dull thump. He paused, then turned away from Kalibar, facing the fallen Behemoth. A massive translucent blue dome appeared around it.
Then it exploded.
No sound escaped the dome, the Behemoth vanishing in a dark green haze. After a moment, the dome vanished, leaving nothing but a massive hill of thick dust in its place.
The old man stared at what remained of the Behemoth for a moment, then rose up from the ground, levitating a few feet above it.
“Wait,” Kalibar blurted out, taking a step forward. “What are you going to do?”
The old man turned in mid-air to face Kalibar, flashing another grotesque smile.
“Our business here will have to wait,” he answered. “Apparently I have an old friend to deal with first.” He pointed his cane at Kalibar. “I'll finish with you later.” He lowered his cane, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. “Your victory here is impressive, Kalibar. Enjoy it while you can.”
With that, the old man shot up into the sky, a loud boom echoing through the night air. He vanished into the darkness, and within moments there was silence.
Kalibar stared up at the sky, his mouth agape.
“Well then,” he heard Owens say. He glanced at the Battle-Weaver, then turned to check up on Kyle, who looked dazed.
“You okay?” Kalibar asked. Kyle nodde
d mutely. Kalibar turned to Ariana, walking up to her and scooping her up in his arms. Then he glanced at Kyle. “Do you have any magic?”
“Yeah,” Kyle answered. Kalibar shook his head, marveling at his son's growing abilities. He had no magic yet himself. Kyle walked up to Ariana without having to be asked, streaming magic to her. Her eyes opened almost immediately, and she stiffened in Kalibar's arms, looking up at him, then at Kyle.
“Where am I?” she asked. Then she gazed outward at the remains of the Void Behemoth, and at the Runics gathered all around them. “What happened?”
“It's over,” Kalibar answered, giving her a weary smile. He set her down on her feet. Owens walked up to her, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders.
“We're safe now,” he said, giving her a squeeze. Kalibar turned to stare at the remains of the Behemoth, then at the Southwest Quarter, entire city blocks still smoldering from the Behemoth's deadly attack.
“Not all of us,” he muttered. “We need to organize a rescue effort for the portions of the city that were attacked.” He turned to Urson. “I want you to return to the Tower, organize scouting parties to do a fly-over of the city. Look for any remaining enemies, search for survivors. Coordinate with our troops on the ground.”
“Yes sire,” Urson replied. He rounded up the few surviving Battle-Weavers, and they flew up into the sky, making their way toward the Tower.
“Councilman,” Kalibar stated, facing Goran. “We've won this battle, but it's going to take a lot of work to recover from it...especially the Southwest Quarter. I'm going to have the military help with the repairs and rescue efforts.”
“Wait,” Goran retorted. “Bringing the military into the city was bad enough...but keeping them here? That's a clear violation of...”
“Relax,” Kalibar interrupted. “I'm decommissioning one contingent. They'll lay down their weapons, and the remainder of the legion will leave the city. I need military engineers and lots of hands if I'm going to rebuild this city.”
“Whose contingent are you decommissioning?” Goran asked, stiffening slightly. Kalibar chuckled.
“Not yours,” he replied. “But I do believe Ibicus's replacement on the Council would be more than happy to lend his troops – and his bankroll – to the effort.”
“Indeed,” Goran agreed, visibly relaxing.
“In the meantime,” Kalibar continued, turning away from the remains of the Behemoth and beginning a slow walk toward the Great Tower in the distance, “...we need to reconvene the Council, and prepare a strategy for how to approach the public about everything that's happened.”
“Agreed,” Goran replied. “But how are we going to explain all of this...” he added, gesturing toward the Behemoth and the Southwest Quarter beyond, “...without causing a panic?”
“Leave that to me,” Kalibar stated. “In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you'd return to the Tower and oversee the return of the Council. Arrange for a meeting in the War room in an hour or so.”
“Yes, Grand Weaver,” Goran replied, saluting Kalibar sharply. He paused, then reached out to Kalibar with his right hand. Kalibar grasped it, and they shook once. Goran smiled, the expression looking decidedly odd on the dour man's face. “You're a good man, Kalibar,” he stated. Kalibar smiled.
“As are you,” he replied. He let go of Goran's hand then. “I would count you among my friends,” he added. Goran raised one eyebrow.
“Don't expect me to agree with you very often.”
“I look forward to our future disagreements,” Kalibar said with a grin. Goran nodded, then stepped backward, rising up into the air. A moment later, the Councilman was shooting through the sky toward the Tower. Kalibar watched him go, then turned back to stare at the massive pile of dust in the distance. He paused, then lowered himself down to the ground, sitting on the scarred, blackened lawn. He ran a hand through his short white hair, then shook his head slowly, a chuckle escaping his lips. Then his shoulders began to shake, laughter erupting from him.
“We made it,” Ariana exclaimed, lowering herself to the ground next to Kalibar and putting one slender arm around his shoulders. Kyle sat down on Kalibar's other side, leaning on his shoulder. Kalibar wrapped his arm around each of his children, holding them close.
“I'm proud of you guys,” he stated, giving them a squeeze. Moisture blurred his eyes, and he blinked back tears. Pride filled his heart...pride in his brave, wonderful children.
“Thanks,” he heard Kyle mumble.
“I love you two, you know that?”
Kyle and Ariana smiled, giving Kalibar a squeeze. Kalibar was thankful that Ariana didn't squeeze him too hard.
“We love you too, dad,” Ariana replied.
“Ditto,” Kyle agreed.
Kalibar sat there with his children, staring off into the starry sky, the dark clouds high above already starting to dissipate. A warm breeze blew through his hair, and he closed his eyes, feeling Kyle's warmth and Ariana's cool embrace. He smiled, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
He'd done everything he could to protect his children...and his people. Risked his career and his life...and the lives of his children. And in the end, against impossible odds, with their world seeming to crumble all around him, they'd managed to succeed.
At long last, they were finally safe!
Chapter 28
Kyle walked down the pink and gray cobblestone path, his gravity boots clicking on the sun-warmed stone below, Ariana at his side. The path was one of many winding its way through the campus of the Secula Magna – and just happened to be on the opposite side of the campus from where the Behemoth had been only a day ago. Just as conveniently, the Southwest Quarter of the city was hidden by the rolling hills of the outer campus, and by the stately Great Tower less than a mile from where they walked. From here, they couldn't hear the sounds of metal on metal, the shouts of workers laboring to rebuild the devastated portions of the city. Though several city blocks had been destroyed, the vast majority of their occupants had been mysteriously evacuated before the Behemoth had struck. All stated that they'd simply found themselves in their homes one moment, then found themselves outside of the city the next. It was a miracle, they claimed...and Kyle knew that was closer to the truth than they'd ever realize. Not just that an immortal Ancient had almost certainly teleported them to safety, but that he'd chosen to help them at all.
Kyle sighed, enjoying the feeling of the sun's warmth on his face, a soft breeze running its cool fingers through his hair. There was no one else around the immediate area; in fact, they hadn't seen anyone but the campus gardeners, busily working to reseed the burnt sections of the lawn, and that had been ten minutes or so ago. He glanced at Ariana, walking quietly at his side, her hand in his. There was something extraordinarily serene about this moment, hand-in-hand with Ariana, the sound of birds chirping from the scattered trees close by. The half-hour they'd spent in the sun had warmed Ariana's skin significantly; her hand felt almost normal in his, only slightly cool to the touch. He stared at her, marveling at her pale beauty; slender and tomboyish, she was not possessed of the impressive proportions Kyle had found so utterly fascinating in Desiree, his onetime crush on Earth, but in this moment she was impossibly lovely to him anyway. Her eyes were on the cobblestone path before them, but her mind was clearly miles away.
“You okay?” Kyle asked, squeezing her hand. She jerked her head up, staring into his eyes. Then she smiled.
“Yeah,” she answered. “Well, no,” she added, lowering her gaze again. “I'm still trying to get used to not sleeping.”
“Oh,” Kyle replied. He didn't know what else to say; Ariana hadn't had a minute of sleep since she'd been revived, and not for lack of trying. It seemed that her need for sleep had been lost. She'd spent most of last night pacing back and forth in room, waiting to feel tired. For some reason, not needing sleep had been more alarming to her than her enormous strength, or her ability to sense nearby Chosen. Kyle couldn't imagine what
it would be like not to sleep...to have each day come and go in one unbroken stream, with never a break in-between.
“Darius came to visit last night,” Ariana stated, lifting her gaze upward toward the sun and closing her eyes. Her alabaster skin was nearly blindingly bright with reflected sunlight.
“Oh yeah?” Kyle asked. “What did you guys talk about?” Ariana opened her eyes, lowering her gaze and shrugging.
“Not much,” she admitted. “He asked how I was doing, then stayed with me for a few hours. We didn't talk much, but it was nice to have someone there. I thought I was going to go crazy before he came, not being able to sleep.”
“He is a nice guy,” Kyle agreed. “Sometimes.” Ariana smiled.
“Sometimes,” she agreed. “I wonder what's going on inside his head,” she added. Kyle shrugged, suddenly wishing that he could tell her about Darius, about who the bodyguard really was. It was terrible to have a secret he couldn't tell anyone, but it was even more painful to keep one from her. After all, she had no problem confiding in him. It didn't seem fair to not be able to return the favor...to have someone he could share everything with.
You know, a girlfriend.
“What are you thinking?” Ariana asked. Kyle blushed, and he turned his face away quickly, staring at the Tower to their left. He felt her nudge him gently with her shoulder. “Come on,” she insisted. “You can tell me.”
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“Liar,” Ariana retorted playfully. She squeezed his hand gently but firmly. “Tell me what you were thinking just then.”
“I dunno,” Kyle mumbled, not knowing what else to say. Ariana raised an eyebrow.
“Was it about me?” she asked. Kyle felt his cheeks flush, and Ariana laughed. “It was!” she exclaimed, clearly delighted by his chagrin. As lovely as she was, Ariana clearly had been well-schooled in the art of torturing boys. It was, Kyle's father had noted long ago, all part of a massive conspiracy to keep men preoccupied and hopelessly confused, so that women would maintain their rightful role as the dominant sex.
“Tell me,” Ariana continued, clearly fascinated by his growing terror. She stopped walking then, turning his shoulders with her hands, so that he had no choice but to face her. He didn't even bother trying to resist, knowing that she had more than enough strength to force him if she wanted to. She smiled then, gazing at him with those big almond-shaped eyes. “Please?”