by Clayton Wood
“The old man had more than one?”
“He had dozens,” he replied. “Each shard far exceeding the complexity of the Dead Man's.” He glanced at Darius. “And too complex for even Darius to decode in such a short amount of time,” he added ruefully.
“But how do you know he isn't the real Sabin?” Kyle pressed. “Ariana said he even called himself that.”
“It has to do with the location of Sabin's Void chamber,” Marcus answered.
“I don't get it,” Kyle admitted. Marcus stood then, walking to another table and picking up a large roll of paper sitting atop it. He brought the roll to their table, the bowls and silverware vanishing and reappearing on the counter at the far end of the room. Marcus unrolled the paper, revealing a large map.
“Stridon is here,” Marcus stated, pointing at a small dot on the map, at the western coast of a large continent. He slid his finger westward over a long expanse of ocean, settling it on the coast of another continent. There was a small red circle there. “This is the general area of the large Void chamber,” he explained.
“So Xanos – uh, Sabin – lives on another continent?” Kyle asked. “How is he controlling his Chosen from so far away?”
“He has a communication network,” Darius answered. “It's...sophisticated. Ariana's shard gave me a few ideas as to how it all works. I changed her shard so that she can access the network, but the network can’t access her.”
“That explains why she could sense the Chosens’ thoughts,” Kyle realized. Darius nodded.
“It gets worse,” Marcus admitted. “We believe that Sabin's powers are limited by such a large distance, and that there must be a significant delay in communication.”
“Why is that bad?” Kyle asked.
“Because it means that Sabin will be much more powerful the closer we get to him,” Marcus explained. “We likely haven't seen a fraction of what he's really capable of.”
“Great,” Kyle muttered, feeling suddenly depressed. Xanos – or Sabin, or whoever he was – had nearly crushed the Empire from across the ocean; what horrors would he be capable of up close?
“This delay is why we believe the old man you met – the one who killed Ariana – is not really Sabin,” Marcus stated. “Every Chosen Darius killed reacted instantaneously to his attacks when they were under their own control. But when Sabin took over – as when the Dead Man's shard glowed – there was a second or two delay in their reactions.”
“Ohhh,” Kyle breathed. It made perfect sense.
“Keep in mind that their grasp of magic was far more sophisticated despite that delay,” Marcus continued. “So much so that even with a delay of seconds, the Chosen – once possessed – were extraordinarily dangerous.” He shook his head. “No one but Darius stood a chance against them.”
“So why isn't that old man really Sabin?” Kyle asked.
“Because,” Marcus replied. “...he reacted to Darius – and the Dead Man – with the same delay as a Chosen possessed by Sabin would.”
“Meaning the real Sabin must have been controlling him from far away,” Kyle reasoned. Darius nodded.
“I visited many of the smaller Void chambers across the globe,” he revealed. “I secretly observed the Chosen there, recording the response delay for each. The closer each Chosen was to Sabin's lair, the shorter the delay became.”
“So you see Kyle,” Marcus stated, “Sabin – the real Sabin – must be located in that massive Void chamber. And by measuring the lag times over the last few weeks, Darius has discovered that Sabin has never moved from that Void chamber.”
“Why not?”
“I'm going to find out,” Darius stated, resting a black gauntleted hand on the table. Blue light crawled across the runes inscribed on the metal.
“How?” Kyle pressed.
“I'm going after him,” Darius answered.
“You're going after him?”
“Yep,” Darius confirmed.
“Finally,” Kyle muttered. Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“What's wrong?” he asked. Kyle hesitated, glancing sidelong at Darius. “Please, feel free to speak your mind.”
“Well...” Kyle began. Then he lowered his gaze to the tabletop. “I don't get why he didn't do this sooner,” he confessed. He shook his head, feeling a sudden bitterness come over him. “I mean, I understand what happened with Kalibar's eyes,” he continued. “But if he'd gone after Xanos sooner, Ariana wouldn't have...”
He stopped then, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He shook his head silently, his eyes locked on the tabletop in front of him. He heard the legs of a chair slide against the floor, then felt a cold, heavy hand on his left shoulder. He glanced up, seeing Darius standing at his side.
“I'm sorry, Kyle,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” Kyle muttered. No one said anything for a long moment, until Marcus sighed.
“I heard about what happened,” he confessed. “A terrible tragedy,” he added gravely. He paused, glancing at Darius. “But we must keep in mind that if it were not for Darius, Ariana would be dead, as would Kalibar, and the Empire as we know it would no longer exist.” He sighed, scratching his salt-and-pepper beard. “And, if Darius had not learned about the Void chamber from feigning his imprisonment by the Dead Man, he never would have developed the means to find Sabin.”
Kyle nodded, knowing that Marcus was right. Still, it didn't make Ariana any less...undead.
“I'm going after Sabin,” Darius proclaimed firmly, lifting his hand from Kyle's shoulder and sitting back down in his chair. “That's why I put that disc in your sternum,” he added.
“What does it do?” Kyle asked.
“Teleport you to Earth,” Darius answered.
“Really?” Kyle pressed. “Whenever I want?” Darius shook his head, as did Marcus.
“It's a last resort option, Kyle,” Marcus explained. “Think of it as a back-up plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“If Darius...dies attempting to confront Sabin,” Marcus replied carefully, “...you will have a way to escape back to Earth before...” He trailed off then.
“Wait, you're not serious, are you?” Kyle blurted out, staring at Marcus, then Darius. “You can't die,” he protested. “You're Ampir!”
“Just because I've never died doesn't mean I can't,” Darius countered. Marcus nodded.
“We have reason to believe Sabin may be nearly as powerful as Darius,” he stated. “Or perhaps more powerful.”
“That's impossible!” Kyle exclaimed.
“He was a gifted Runic,” Darius countered. “And extremely creative.”
“But Sabin's only two thousand years old,” Kyle reasoned. “Darius is twice that old, with his time on Antara. How could Sabin be more powerful?”
“Sabin is...obsessive,” Darius explained. “I didn't spend every minute of my life planning for world domination,” he added wryly. “Sabin likely has.”
“So you think he might be more powerful than you?” Kyle inquired worriedly. Darius shrugged.
“Only one way to find out.”
The three of them grew quiet then, all staring off into the distance, lost in their thoughts. Kyle sighed, feeling terribly depressed all of a sudden. If Darius did die trying to kill Sabin, then the Empire would surely be destroyed. And Kalibar, Erasmus, and Ariana...and everyone else Kyle knew on Doma...would be killed.
“So,” Marcus stated, ending the uncomfortable silence. “...that is why Darius placed the spacetime bridge generator in your chest.” He faced Kyle then, his expression grim. “If Darius dies, it'll be your only way to get back home...and be safe from Xanos.”
“What about Ariana?” Kyle asked. “And Kalibar, and Erasmus?”
Darius said nothing.
“Well?” Kyle insisted. “What happens to them if Sabin wins?”
“The device will only take you back,” Marcus answered. “And it will only work one-way,” he added. “Once you activate it, you will never be able to get back to Doma..
.or Antara.”
“And my friends?” Kyle pressed.
Marcus glanced at Darius, then dropped his eyes to the tabletop. He shook his head slowly, saying nothing. Darius stared right at Kyle, his blue eyes cold and unblinking.
“They’ll die,” he replied.
* * *
Kyle, Darius, and Marcus sat around the circular table, the two men saying nothing as Kyle glanced back and forth at them. He'd been floored by Darius's response, and hadn't said anything in the moments since. Marcus wouldn't even meet Kyle's stare, the old man's gray eyes locked on the tabletop before him.
“What?” Kyle blurted out at last.
“Kyle...” Marcus began, but Darius stopped him with one outstretched hand. Marcus's jaw snapped shut with an audible click. Kyle stared at them both incredulously.
“You can't be serious!” he exclaimed. “They're my friends,” he added. “They're your friends!”
“I'm serious,” Darius countered.
“But why can't you give them the same thing you gave me?” Kyle asked, pointing to his chest. “Send them to Earth with me,” he pleaded. Darius shook his head.
“No.”
“Then send them to Antara!” Kyle insisted. “They'll be safe here.”
“No.”
“But why?” Kyle pressed. Darius just stared at Kyle, saying nothing. Kyle turned to Marcus, whose eyes were still locked on the tabletop. The old man sighed, then met Kyle's gaze at last.
“If Darius dies,” he stated, “...we all die.” He grimaced. “Without him, we'll all start aging again,” he explained. “Most of us would die rather quickly,” he added ruefully. “If Darius sent your friends here, they would soon be alone, able to do nothing as their friends and families were slaughtered back on Doma.”
“Then send them to Earth with me,” Kyle pleaded, turning to Darius, who shook his head.
“No.”
“So what, they die?” Kyle blurted out. “You'd just let them die?”
Darius said nothing, and Kyle stared at him incredulously, feeling anger rise up inside of him, indignation at how callously Darius had decided to cast away his friends. But there was nothing Kyle could do.
There was a sudden flash of light in the center of the table, and a small black object shaped like the handle of a flashlight appeared. It was entirely nondescript, having no markings on it whatsoever.
“What's that?” Kyle asked.
“A weapon,” Darius answered. He picked up the thing, tapping one end of it with his finger. The end flashed red, jutting outward to reveal shiny silver metal beneath. He tapped the end again, and it retracted.
“What kind of weapon?”
“A bomb,” Marcus interjected. “It's our...plan B, if you will.” Darius set the bomb back on the table.
“Trigger it like I just did,” Darius stated, “...and it'll explode in 5 minutes.”
“How, uh...big is the explosion?” Kyle asked, staring at the thing. It was about the size of a heavy-duty flashlight.
“Ten-mile diameter,” Darius answered. Kyle's eyes widened.
“Ten miles?”
“If I die,” Darius continued, “...this bomb will destroy any enemy that threatens the Empire.” He pushed the bomb toward Kyle. “You're the only other person who can set it. Get close, set it by tapping on one end.” He smirked. “And fly.”
“But this'll only stop the enemy once,” Kyle countered. And it was true; if Sabin sent another Void Behemoth against the Empire, and Kyle used the bomb, what would happen when the next Behemoth came?”
“Then make it count,” Darius replied. He stood from his chair in one fluid motion, pushing it in and walking away, back toward the hallway leading to the front of the house. He stopped halfway to the door, turning his head to the side, his visor reappearing over his eyes in a flash of blue light.
“We leave in ten minutes,” he stated.
And then he vanished.
Kyle stared at the space where Darius had just stood, a cool breeze whipping through the room. He heard Marcus clear his throat noisily, and turned to face the old man. Marcus rolled the large map on the table back into a long cylinder with the bomb inside, handing it to Darius. Then he stood from his seat, gesturing for Kyle to do the same.
“Let's go outside for a bit,” he suggested. Kyle rose from his chair reluctantly, following Marcus toward a door at the far end of the kitchen. It opened into a small backyard, and Marcus led Kyle across this, toward a rocky ledge in the distance. It was the very edge of Antara, beyond which there was a sheer drop to the roiling maelstrom of gray clouds immediately below...the deadly atmosphere of the alien planet half of Antara was hovering over. Beyond this narrow ring, and miles below the huge floating island, was Doma. Whereas on his last trip here, he'd seen only endless ocean, now Kyle saw a huge expanse of trees far below, obscured by thick white mist. A trio of mountains were barely visible on the horizon, dark gray clouds hovering over the tallest of the three. Marcus turned to Kyle, sighing heavily.
“I'm sorry Kyle,” he apologized, shaking his head. “When Darius makes up his mind, there is no denying him.” He raised one palm up toward Kyle when Kyle started to protest, cutting Kyle off. “Just try to remember what I said about Darius the last time you were here,” he added.
“What's that?” Kyle grumbled.
“I don't always agree with his methods,” Marcus answered, staring out across Doma's surface. “But he does everything for a reason.”
“Yeah, right,” Kyle groused. Marcus put a hand on Kyle's shoulder.
“We have to trust him,” the old man stated quietly.
“Why?” Kyle retorted. Marcus gave him a pained smile.
“We don't have any other choice.”
Chapter 3
Agony ripped through Kyle's chest as the Gateway melted around him, stars exploding in his vision, followed by blindness. His hearing went next, his body vanishing from his awareness. He felt himself floating in nothingness, tenuously clinging to what little consciousness he had left.
And then, mercifully, there was light.
Kyle groaned, feeling something wet and prickly tickling the right side of his face. He blinked, seeing a blurry expanse of green and blue. His vision sharpened, and he realized that he was laying on his side on wet grass. He pushed himself off of the ground, blinking against the bright rays of the sun shining down on him. Then he saw a flash of gold to his left, and he turned to see Darius standing beside him.
“I leave tonight,” the bodyguard stated, turning to walk across the verdant lawn of manicured grass toward a cobblestone path ahead. Kyle paused, brushing blades of grass off of his shirt, then glanced down, seeing the rolled-up map on the ground before him. He picked it up, then followed sullenly behind the bodyguard. He looked about as he walked, immediately recognizing his surroundings. The lush grass extended in all direction as far as the eye could see, save for the cobblestone path, which led over a small hill ahead. Kyle glanced up at the sky, spotting the telltale darker blue glimmer of a massive domed gravity shield far above his head; it was the Gate Shield, a magical barrier preventing anything from getting in or out of the circular campus of the Secula Magna. Which meant, of course, that he must be standing within its campus...the largest and most prestigious school of magic in the Empire. Indeed, as they walked up the small hill, reaching its rounded peak, he spotted a tall building in the distance. A tower over forty stories high, a crystal pyramid at its peak. The pyramid shimmered in the sunlight like a diamond, sending rays of every imaginable color outward across the campus.
Kyle stopped at the sight, his heart leaping into his chest as he stared at the tower. He realized that he'd half-expected everything he'd experienced here to be a dream; that after he'd returned to Earth, he would never get to see his second home again. But there it was, standing tall not a half-mile away. The Great Tower...the very heart of the Empire.
Darius continued down the path toward the Tower, and Kyle sprinted after the man, eventually c
atching up with him. It wasn't long before they came upon two people standing a few dozen feet from the path. One was an older man wearing long black robes, the other a young woman wearing snug black pants and an equally snug black shirt. She was facing away from Kyle, but turned suddenly, her eyes fixating instantly on Kyle's position.
“Kyle!” she cried.
She ran toward him with unnerving speed, moving quickly over the green grass until she was only a dozen feet away. She skid to a halt, tearing up two lines of grass with her feet as she did so, slowing a short distance away from where Kyle stood. She walked up and gave him a big bear hug, nearly knocking him off of his feet in the process...and knocking the wind out of him as her incredibly strong arms squeezed his ribs. Mercifully, she let him go, taking a step back.
“Hey Ariana,” Kyle grunted, rubbing his bruised ribs gingerly.
“Sorry,” she apologized. But her smile barely faltered. With her long brown hair tied in a tight ponytail, and her large, almond-shaped eyes, she was strikingly pretty. Her skin was extraordinarily pale...in fact, it was almost translucent, faint blue veins forming web-like patterns underneath. She was slightly taller than him, and quite slender, but carried herself with a confidence that was unnerving in someone so young. She'd earned it the hard way; she'd had a rougher life than anyone should have to bear, and it had forged an iron will. Having died and been reborn as a super-powerful undead immortal certainly hadn't hurt her confidence either.
“Hello Kyle,” the man who'd been standing with Ariana earlier stated as he walked toward them. “Welcome back,” he added. Kyle grinned at the man.
“Master Owens,” he greeted. Ariana shook her head at Kyle.
“I thought you'd never come back,” she stated in a mildly accusing fashion. Kyle frowned.
“How long has it been?” Kyle asked.
“Seven days,” Ariana replied instantly.