by Clayton Wood
Boom.
The floor shakes again, more dust and tiny pebbles falling from the ceiling above Sabin's head. He feels the dust strike his head and shoulders, and pushes himself up from the floor, sneezing violently. He hears his guards' footsteps echoing down the hall, getting fainter and fainter.
Boom.
And then nothing.
Sabin stands there, staring out between the bars of his cell, at the empty chairs his guards had been stationed at. He walks up to the bars, pressing his forehead against the cool, rusted iron. Waiting.
He hears shouting far in the distance. A moment later, muffled screams echo off of the stone walls.
He backs away from the prison bars, feeling a chill run down his spine. There is more shouting, following by a loud cracking sound. More screams echo through the tunnels, followed by silence.
Minutes pass.
Sabin hears footsteps then, faintly. Hears a voice in the distance.
“This way, here...”
There is a shout, and another scream, very close now. Sabin sees something fly through the air just outside of his cell, crashing through the two chairs sitting there, then slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. It drops to the ground limply, and Sabin stares at it, realizing it's one of his guards.
Dead.
He hears another shout, and then footsteps approaching, much louder now. He takes a step back, then another, feeling his back strike the stone wall behind him. A man walks into view, just beyond his cell. A very familiar man. A very frightened looking man.
Gunthar.
The tyrant stares at Sabin, then points straight at him.
“There,” he states. A few seconds passed, and then another man comes into view. A man in black, metallic armor, with a reflective visor hiding his eyes. Sabin's eyes widen.
“Ampir!” he exclaims, stepping forward from the wall. It is the legendary Battle-Runic! Ampir turns to look at him, his expression utterly flat. He says nothing.
“He's the one you want,” Gunthar declares, continuing to point at Sabin. “He made the Behemoths, he had them sent to Stridon against my orders!”
“What?” Sabin blurts out incredulously. His eyes shift from Gunthar back to Ampir, righteous indignation rising in his breast. “That's a lie! I wanted to send them to Verhan! You're the one who tricked me!”
“I just wanted Verhan back for my people,” Gunthar retorts furiously, turning to Ampir. “He insisted on having his petty revenge against Nespo!”
Sabin is about to reply when Ampir raises his hand. Both men's mouths snap shut. The wrought iron bars of Sabin's cell bend outward from the middle, the stone they are embedded in cracking loudly, hunks of rock falling to the ground. Ampir steps forward through the now-wide gap between them, entering Sabin's cell. Sabin sees Gunthar glance upward at the white crystal in the ceiling, then quickly look down.
“Ampir, he's lying to you,” Sabin insists, but Ampir merely stares back at him, his expression, as always, unreadable. “The Tower, is it...?” he begins, and finds he can't finish the sentence.
“Destroyed,” Ampir replies. Sabin stares at him in disbelief, taking a step back, his jaw going slack.
Destroyed!
He feels his legs go weak, feels them start to wobble underneath him. He slides down onto his buttocks on the floor, shaking his head mutely, unable to even look at Ampir.
“Don't pretend you didn't want it!” Gunthar accuses, but Ampir raises his hand again, and Gunthar’s jaw snaps shut. Sabin raises his head, staring into his own reflection in Ampir's visor. He feels utter exhaustion come over him, so powerful that his head drops again, his chin resting on his chest.
“I just wanted to help these people,” Sabin mumbles. “I never wanted to hurt the Empire.”
“Bullshit,” Gunthar retorts. “You even had your friends in Stridon give you the blueprints for Ampir's armor so you could kill him!” He turns to Ampir again. “He specifically told my Weavers – without my knowledge – to kill your wife!”
Ampir stands there, perfectly still for nearly a minute, then turns away from Sabin, staring at Gunthar. His gauntleted hands curl into fists.
“What?” he asks. Gunthar stands taller, pointing at Sabin.
“That traitor,” he declares, “...told my men to target your wife and son, to distract you so you'd be easier to kill.” Ampir stares at the man mutely, then turns back to Sabin. Sabin feels his guts twist with fear, and he stares back at Ampir, his lips trembling. He starts to speak, then stops. He clears his throat, then tries again.
“Vera,” he states, feeling dread creep over him. “...is she...?”
“Dead,” Ampir mutters.
Something inside Sabin breaks.
“Oh, no,” he pleads, tears welling up in his eyes. “Oh no, no...please, no...”
“You lying piece of...” Gunthar begins, crossing through the bars of the cell and striding toward Sabin. Ampir's left fist shoots out, slamming into Gunthar's temple with a loud crack. The man flies headlong into the side wall of the cell, his skull ricocheting violently off of the hard stone, then falling in a heap onto the floor.
Dead.
Sabin stares at Gunthar's unmoving body, at the man's eyes staring lifelessly outward. Then he raises his gaze to Ampir's visor. He feels a calmness come over him.
“Kill me,” he states. There is no pleading, no fear in his voice. He pictures Vera as he'd last seen her, so vibrant and full of life. Her sweet laugh, the way the sun shone on the long curls of her auburn hair.
Ampir turns back to him, saying nothing. Blood drips from his left fist onto the floor.
“Kill me,” Sabin repeats calmly, even confidently. “I want to die now.”
Still, Ampir says nothing.
“Please,” Sabin pleads. “I'm ready.” Ampir just stares at him, and Sabin rises to his feet suddenly, balling his hands into fists and staring back defiantly. “It's true,” he declares. “Everything Gunthar said. I ordered the Behemoths to go to Stridon. I ordered them to kill Vera!” He flinches then, expecting Ampir's fist to shoot out and crush his skull, as it had for Gunthar. But Ampir just stares down at him, saying nothing.
Then he turns his back to Sabin, walking out of the cell.
“Ampir?” Sabin cries, walking after him. “Ampir!” The man ignores him, stepping through the bars of the cell. “Ampir, wait!”
And then Ampir vanishes into thin air.
* * *
The pain was everything.
Kyle no longer felt the ground beneath him, no longer saw the dark Chosen leaning over him, pressing that green shard into his forehead. He didn't hear Kalibar screaming anymore, couldn't even feel his own arms and legs. They were gone. Everything was gone.
Except for the pain.
It shot through his forehead, radiating through to the back of his skull, a pulsing agony that refused to end. If he could have wished for death, if his brain had been capable of forming such a thought, he would have.
Something appeared then, not in his vision but in his mind's eye. It was bright, humming with twisting, churning power, a maelstrom of magic in the center of his mind. He felt the threads of magic within it, sensed them starting to weave. Magic tied itself into impossibly complex patterns within him, weaving with dizzying speed.
And then the light went out.
Kyle felt the pain in his skull surge, felt something pulling at his forehead. He saw a burst of light – with his eyes now – a rich blue sky with feathery clouds suspended high above. He saw the glittering green facets of the shard hovering above his own forehead, its tapered peak streaked with red. He stared at it, feeling his arms and legs return to him. Beyond the green shard, he saw the Chosen above him, rising to its feet, its remaining eye opening wide. It took a step back, its black cloak rippling in the wind.
The horrible pain in Kyle's head start to fade, quickly replaced by an intense burning in his chest, and an overwhelming hunger for air. He gasped, inhaling deeply, then felt thick chunks suck int
o his windpipe. He choked, turning to the side and hacking violently. Gobs of vomit flew out of his mouth, splattering on the rocky ledge beside him. He drew in another breath, coughing again.
And then there was ecstasy.
An incredible force slammed into his consciousness, an immense power that pulsed in his mind's eye, coursing through his bones. Blue light exploded around and through the Chosen, engulfing it instantly. Its rippling black cloak disintegrated, its flesh melting to the bone. Its eyes widened, blue light bursting from its sockets and from its gaping mouth.
And then it exploded.
The blue light intensified, becoming so bright that it was all-encompassing, filling Kyle's mind to the exclusion of everything else. No thought was possible, no sensation left to him but utter rapture.
And then it stopped.
The blue light vanished, the ecstasy fading as quickly as it had come. Kyle laid there on the cold hard rock of the Spine of Grimore, his eyes wide, his skin slick with sweat. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, the great vessels of his neck pulsing with each beat. He heard the crunch, crunch of heavy footsteps approaching.
He groaned, rolling onto his side, feeling the sharp edge of a rock digging into his side. Staring past the toes of his boots, he saw a pair of jet-black boots standing there. He followed the boots up with his eyes, seeing black armored legs, then a black armored chest. Blue light coursed over the surface of the metallic armor, weaving random, tiny patterns there.
Goosebumps rose on his arms, a chill running down his spine.
His gaze continued to rise, noting a black armored chestplate, the sun's rays reflecting dully from the inky metal. And above this, a strong, square jaw, smooth shaven, the skin gently bronzed. Above this, a mirror-like visor, short brown hair rippling in the howling wind.
What the...
The man standing before him reached down with one gauntleted hand, his fingers extended toward Kyle. Kyle reached out without thinking, and the man grabbed his wrist. Kyle felt himself lifting off of the hard stone of the Spine, rising slowly to his feet. He stood there then, staring at his own reflection in that mirrored visor, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Then he rushed forward, slamming into the man and wrapping his arms around him.
“Darius!” Kyle cried, burying his face in the man's chest. He felt Darius give him a squeeze.
“Hey kid,” Darius greeted.
Chapter 31
Petra knelt on the packed dirt of the forest floor, one arm circled around Kalibar's back, the other hand cradling his head against her chest. She held him there, feeling tears trickle down her cheeks. Despite the fact that she'd only met him yesterday, he'd proven himself to be a good man. A brave man. And a good father.
And she had watched him die...let him die...while he begged her for help.
Petra inhaled deeply, grimacing at the pain in her ribs, then let the air out. She let Kalibar's head go, setting it gently back onto the large tree trunk behind him. She leaned back, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her eyes dropped to his abdomen, to the blood-soaked brown cloak, and the severed tree branch that...
She drew a sharp breath in, rising to her feet and backing away.
The branch was in Kalibar's lap.
She stared at the branch, then at Kalibar's brown cloak, seeing the gaping hole in the cloth over his belly, the mass of maroon clots adhered to his flesh there. Then she lifted her gaze to his face...and realized that his eyes were open. Not just open...they were staring right at her!
“You look terrible,” Kalibar stated casually, a slight smile on his lips. Petra's eyes widened, and she took another step backward.
“How...”
“Thank you for the, ah, pleasant awakening,” he added, glancing at her bosom for a split second, then raising his eyes back to hers. She blinked, then looked downward, feeling her cheeks flush. Kalibar looked down at his own belly, brushing away the clots there and exposing perfectly intact skin. “I'm guessing you gave me magic,” he deduced.
“You were dead!” Petra blurted out. Kalibar nodded.
“I suppose I was,” he agreed. “Almost.” He grunted, propping himself further up on the tree trunk. “Thank you for saving my life, by the way.”
“You can't be alive,” Petra protested, staring at the healed wound. “I watched you die!”
“Yes, well,” Kalibar replied. “It just so happens that a very powerful man placed runes in my bones,” he added. “...that heal any major injuries as long as I have magic.”
Petra stared at him mutely for a moment. Then she shook her head.
“That's not possible,” she declared. Kalibar chuckled.
“You've never met Ampir,” Kalibar countered with a wry smile. The smile quickly vanished, however, replaced by horror. “Kyle!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Petra asked. Kalibar grimaced, pushing himself up to his feet. He swayed a little, then righted himself.
“How long have we been here?” he demanded, his tone suddenly sharp.
“Two minutes, maybe three?” Petra ventured, taken aback by his sudden change.
“We need to get out of here,” Kalibar said, his voice hard. “Now.” He grabbed her hand. “Fly us out of here!”
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
“Someone set off a bomb,” Kalibar answered. “And we've got about two minutes to fly five miles, or we're dead.” He got behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, which made her eyes widen. “Go!” he ordered.
Petra let magic flow into her mind's eye, shaping it and pouring it outward. She rose up from the ground, feeling Kalibar's weight pulling down on her. She increased her magic stream, shooting higher into the air. She dodged tree limbs as she rose, quickly clearing the treetops and bursting into the clear blue sky.
“There!” Kalibar shouted over the shrieking wind. He pointed outward, toward a small mountain northwest of Mount Grimore...Mount Kress. “If we can get behind that, it should shield us from the blast.” Petra changed direction abruptly, feeling the blood drain from her head as she did so, her vision blackening. She clenched the muscles in her legs, resisting the urge to slow down, and zoomed upward and forward toward the smaller mountain. Faster and faster she went, pouring more and more magic into her stream, the wind tearing through her hair.
“Faster!” Kalibar urged.
Petra grimaced, reaching for the others within her mind, and bracing herself for the inevitable pain that was the price of their gift. She felt magic gush into her mind, and threw it immediately at her magic stream, ignoring the aching in her bones...and the knowledge that every time she used the Reaper vines, it brought her closer to her untimely death.
They zoomed high above the treetops, and Petra felt Kalibar tightening his grip on her waist. She created a gravity shield around them both, instantly nullifying the roaring wind, and ensuring that if Kalibar let go, he would merely fall onto the lower dome of the shield. Mount Kress grew rapidly before them; Petra had never in her life attempted to fly this quickly. She felt her magic draining rapidly, and begged the others for more.
“Faster, faster!” Kalibar yelled. “We're almost there!” And they were...the base of the mountain was only a half-mile away now. “Circle around to the back,” Kalibar instructed. Petra complied, curving slightly rightward, arcing toward the side of the mountain, then reversing direction to curve leftward around its base. She felt Kalibar twist around behind her. “A few more seconds,” he stated. “Slow down, we're almost behind it...”
Petra gladly decreased her magic stream, feeling the sudden pull of her deceleration. She continued circling around the base of the mountain, only a hundred or so feet from the treetops climbing the rocky surface. She felt Kalibar squeeze her torso.
“Okay,” he stated. “Land us.”
Petra did so, dropping them between a gap in the trees on the mountainside. When their feet struck the ground, Kalibar disengaged from Petra, walking a few steps away. She saw his knees wobble, and then he fell to the
ground.
* * *
Kalibar barely heard Petra calling his name as he stumbled away from her, his legs feeling like rubber beneath him. They gave out suddenly, and he dropped to the ground. His body felt numb, as if he were in a dream. No...a nightmare.
“...you okay?” he heard Petra ask. She walked up in front of him, squatting down and putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned away, unable to face her.
Kyle!
He closed his eyes, remembering the Chosen standing over his son, the green shard piercing through the poor boy's forehead. The way Kyle had struggled, the fear in his voice. Kalibar put his head in his hands, taking deep, shaking breaths.
I can't do this, he thought. He pictured Ariana, tossed off of the Spine of Grimore like a rag doll, her eyes unseeing, her throat crushed. He began to rock back and forth. I can't do this!
“Kalibar, are you hurt?” he heard Petra press. Her voice was rising, panic-stricken. He ignored her, trying to rise to his feet to walk away. He didn't want to be near her now. Didn't want to be near anyone. He managed to get to his feet, and took a few steps before his legs gave out again. He felt a sharp pain in his buttocks as they struck the ground, but it was nothing to him. He heard Petra run up to him, saw her kneeling before him, cupping the sides of his face in her hands.
“Kalibar!” she exclaimed, staring into his eyes. He tried to turn away, but she held him tightly. “What's wrong? Tell me,” she pleaded. He swallowed, feeling tears trickling down his cheeks. He took a deep breath in, and started to speak, but his voice cracked, and it took everything he had not to break down and weep in front of her. He closed his eyes, steeling himself.
“They're gone,” he muttered.
“Who?” Petra asked. Then her eyes widened. “Wait, where's Kyle and Ariana?” she exclaimed with sudden alarm. Kalibar shook his head.
“Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” she pressed. He tried to turn away again, but she held his head firmly in her palms, forcing him to look at her.