by Clayton Wood
The Dead Man grabbed Kalibar's forehead with his left hand, then brought his right hand down, fingers hovering over Kalibar's left eye.
He plunged his fingers into Kalibar's left eye socket.
Kalibar screamed, the awful sound echoing throughout the Arena. The Dead Man's fingers sunk downward, and Kalibar cried out again, his back arching in agony. The Dead Man twisted his wrist. Even from where he stood, Kyle could hear the muted pop as the muscles anchoring Kalibar's eyeball tore free.
The Dead Man jerked his left hand upward, displaying the white, glistening orb to the crowd. The crowd roared again, cheering wildly.
The men holding Kalibar let go of his limbs, and the former Grand Weaver turned over onto his side, clawing blindly at the edge of the casket. He rolled over the edge, falling hard onto the Arena floor. Kyle heard Kalibar moaning, saw his trembling hands covering his empty sockets.
The Dead Man tossed Kalibar's left eye onto the ground.
Kyle felt bile welling up in his throat, and swallowed it down, turning away from the sight. The Dead Man faced Kyle then, walking up to him and staring down at him with those black, sunken eyes. He reached out, grabbing Kyle's chin with one pale, frigid, blood-smeared hand.
“He suffered for you,” the Dead Man murmured. He let go of Kyle's chin, and turned away.
The arms holding Kyle let go suddenly, and Kyle dropped onto his knees. He lowered himself to the ground, weeping into the cold dirt floor of the Arena.
Chapter 16
Kyle woke up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. His tiny, cramped room was dark, the lantern bolted to the wall glowing ever-so-softly. He laid there on his bed, stifling a yawn.
Someone knocked on his door – hard.
“I said get up!” he heard a voice yell from the hallway. Kyle groaned, rolling out of bed and walking to his dresser. He grabbed his uniform from atop it, pulling his clothes on, still half-asleep. The door burst open, and Kyle started, seeing Jayce standing in the hallway glaring at him. Kyle finished pulling on his shirt, reaching up to rub his eyes.
His eyes.
He froze, an image of the Dead Man coming unbidden to his mind, a glistening white globe in the dark Weaver’s hand. Kalibar screaming in agony…
“Put on your belt,” Jayce snapped, jolting Kyle from his thoughts. He stared at Jayce blankly. “Put it on,” Jayce repeated, grabbing Kyle’s belt and throwing it at him. Kyle obeyed, tying his sash around his waist. When he was finished, he glanced up at Jayce; the older boy was glaring at him.
“What?” Kyle asked.
“You don’t deserve to wear that,” Jayce spat. Then he turned away, exiting the room. Kyle stared at his back, then lowered his gaze.
Everyone knows, Kyle realized.
He followed Jayce mutely, letting himself be led down the now-familiar maze of hallways. He kept his eyes on the floor, trying to ignore the students they passed as they made their way to class. He could feel their eyes on him, staring at him as he walked by.
Suddenly, Jayce stopped.
Kyle looked up, realizing they were at the open doorway to Mr. Maywind's class. He hesitated, but Jayce shoved him through.
Two dozen students stared at him from their desks.
Kyle dropped his gaze, walking to his desk. He sat down quietly, closing his eyes. An image of the Dead Man's face appeared in his mind's eye, black eyes staring down at him.
He suffered for you.
Kyle opened his eyes, wiping them with the back of his sleeve.
“Kyle,” he heard a voice whisper. He turned, spotting Ariana looking at him, her eyes filled with concern. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he pulled away. He didn't want to be touched. Didn't deserve to be touched.
Mr. Maywind walked into the classroom.
“Good morning, class,” he greeted.
“Good morning, Mr. Maywind,” the class droned. Kyle remained silent, staring at his desk.
“Today,” Mr. Maywind stated, “...we will learn the finer points of using the water pattern.” He walked up to the chalkboard, and Kyle heard the rhythmic sound of chalk scraping against it. He glanced up at the board, seeing a few symbols there he didn't recognize. He lowered his gaze again. Even the thought of paying attention was exhausting.
Mr. Maywind continued the lecture, droning on about the water pattern. He called on several students to answer questions, but luckily Kyle wasn't one of them. After what seemed like an eternity, the lecture was over.
“Never forget that Xanos is with all of you,” Mr. Maywind intoned. “...watching you through His Chosen. Make Him proud.”
“Yes Mr. Maywind,” the class replied.
Kyle stood up with the other students, bowing mechanically to his teacher. He shuffled listlessly out of the classroom, following the other students down the hallway. He couldn't help but notice his peers stepping away from him, giving him wide berth. He felt their eyes on him, heard them whispering to each other.
Then someone grabbed his hand.
He flinched, pulling his hand away, half-expecting a group of boys to corner him again. But when he looked up, he saw Ariana looking back at him.
“Kyle...” she said, giving him a weak smile. She reached out to grab his hand again, but he pulled away. She moved with him, reaching out a third time. This time she was too fast, grabbing his hand before he could react. She gripped his hand tightly, pulling him to her side. She led him down the hallway into the cafeteria, guiding him to their usual table.
“Sit with me,” she urged, letting go of his hand.
He hesitated, then sat down. Ariana walked back to the line of students getting their meals. Moments later, she returned with two plates filled with food. This time she sat down next to him instead of across from him. She pushed one plate of food in front of him, keeping the other for herself. Kyle glanced down at his food; the smell of it made him nauseous.
“I'm not hungry,” he muttered, pushing the plate away.
“Kyle,” Ariana murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry about your friend.”
Kyle said nothing, swallowing back a lump in his throat. He took a deep breath, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes.
“Kyle...”
Kyle wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, unable to look Ariana in the eye. He felt her hand touch his, and he pulled his hand away. There was a long silence, and Kyle found himself glancing up at her. She was staring at him, her expression unreadable.
“Why are you shutting me out?” she asked.
Kyle looked down at his plate, then shook his head.
“It's my fault.”
“What is?”
“What happened to Kalibar,” Kyle replied.
“No it isn't,” Ariana retorted. “You didn't hurt your friend...the Dead Man did.”
“No,” Kyle stated, shaking his head again. “He told me that he wouldn't hurt them if I obeyed him. But I didn't listen.”
“Kyle, that's crap,” Ariana said, reaching out for his hand again. This time she gripped it firmly, so that Kyle couldn't pull away. Her skin was warm and soft.
“No it isn't,” Kyle countered miserably. Ariana stared at him for a long moment, then let go of his hand. She grabbed her fork, stirring her food around her plate for a while. They sat in silence for a few long, awkward minutes. Then Ariana raised her big brown eyes to look at Kyle again. This time, they were moist.
“You were right,” she said at last. “They didn’t have you, not before.” She gave a bitter smile. “But they do now.”
* * *
The walk back to Mr. Tenson's classroom was long and silent. Kyle kept his eyes down the whole way, feeling the eyes of the other students following him as he walked. Ariana strode beside him, but said nothing, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. By the time they reached the door to Mr. Tenson's class, the rest of the students had already arrived. Ariana stopped before the door, gesturing for Kyle to go in first. Then she followed, closing the door behind her. Mr. Tens
on's sharp gaze locked on Kyle, following him as he made his way to the back of the classroom to line up with the rest of the students.
“You,” Mr. Tenson ordered, pointing at Kyle. Kyle looked up at the man, his stomach twisting into a knot. “Come here,” his teacher ordered. Kyle obeyed, almost sprinting up to the man. Tenson stared down at him, his expression cold. “You are no longer in this class,” he stated dismissively, pointing at the door. “Leave.”
Kyle hesitated for a split second, and saw Mr. Tenson's right hand start to rise. He bowed quickly, then turned and nearly ran to the door, opening it and escaping into the hallway. He closed the door behind him, then leaned back against it, his heart hammering in his chest.
What was that all about?
“Hello, Kyle.”
Kyle jumped, turning to see the Dead Man standing only a few feet away in the otherwise deserted hallway. The hairs on the nape of his neck rose up, fear gripping him. He stood there, frozen in place, staring at the Dead Man mutely.
“You barely ate,” the Dead Man murmured, a concerned look on his face. Kyle shrugged, but said nothing. An image of the Dead Man's pale fingers sinking into Kalibar's eye sockets came to him, and he blinked, forcing the vision from his mind's eye.
“I want you to know that I honored your wishes,” his ghoulish master stated, “...and spared the traitor's life.” He levitated forward, his boots inches from the floor, and stared down at Kyle with his black, unblinking eyes. “My children demanded Kalibar's death,” he added solemnly, “...for the murder of their brothers.” He smiled, putting an icy hand on Kyle's shoulder. “I spared his life as well, for you.”
Kyle mouthed a silent “thank you,” lowering his gaze to his feet.
“Walk with me.”
The Dead Man turned about, levitating down the hallway, his black cloak ever-rippling behind him. Kyle paused, then strode after the man. He followed his master through the hallways and down a flight of stairs, until they passed through the front doorway of the building. Kyle stepped out into the open cavern, seeing the Arena in the distance.
He turned away from it quickly, fixating on the bridge over the pond.
The Dead Man turned left, moving toward the pond, and Kyle walked after him. But instead of going onto the bridge, the Dead man veered to the side, stopping a few inches from the rocky shore of the pond. Kyle walked up to his side, staring down into the dark, still waters. There were dozens of glowing forms floating near the surface, flitting about to and fro. They were fish, Kyle realized.
The Dead Man turned to Kyle.
“Come closer,” he ordered. Kyle obeyed, standing right beside him. The Dead Man levitated forward, his boots hovering above the pond. The water beneath his feet sank inward, forming a large dome below them. Grabbing Kyle's arm, the Dead Man continued forward, pulling Kyle into the pond. Kyle tensed up, expecting the water to rush inward around his feet and ankles, but instead he found himself levitating above the sunken dome in the pond.
Slowly, they descended.
The water parted around them as they sank, forming a sphere of air around them. Within seconds, they were completely underwater, the dim light from the Timestone above barely illuminating them. Fluorescent fish darted to and fro around them, none daring to penetrate the globe of air surrounding them. As they sank, the light became even dimmer, throwing them into near-complete darkness.
“Weave the light pattern,” the Dead Man commanded.
Kyle closed his eyes, weaving the pattern and throwing it out, attaching a small magic stream. A white globe of light appeared before them, banishing the darkness. The Dead Man nodded approvingly.
Downward and forward they sank, until the surface of the pond was no longer visible from above.
“Where are we going?” Kyle asked nervously. He felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if the sphere of air around them would collapse at any moment, drowning them in water.
“You'll see.”
They continued downward and forward, until the pond bottom was visible only a few feet below. Kyle saw a rock wall ahead, some twenty feet away, into which a smooth, arched doorway had been carved. Kyle's light revealed a rippling, fluid surface at the doorway, with nothing visible beyond.
Still they moved forward, until they were inches from the doorway.
The Dead Man continued forward, the sphere of air following him. He passed through the doorway, vanishing beyond, his passing sending ripples across the watery surface. Kyle felt himself moving forward, and moments later he too was passing through the rippling barrier. As his head passed through, the rippling darkness gave way to a sudden intense brightness. He squinted, losing control of his magic stream to the light pattern. He passed all the way through, feeling a sudden cool breeze on his skin as the Dead Man's protective sphere vanished. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the bright light.
Kyle stared, his jaw dropping.
He was standing on a narrow, grated metal platform that extended from the arched doorway into a long tunnel beyond. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made entirely of huge, translucent white crystals, their multifaceted surfaces glowing slightly. Each crystal had a broad base some three feet in diameter, and tapered into a sharp point that aimed toward the center of the tunnel. The crystals were at least seven feet long, their stark whiteness contrasting with the black metal platform upon which Kyle stood. The platform hovered a foot or so above the sharp tips of the crystals below.
The Dead Man turned to Kyle, a smile curling his lips.
“Welcome,” he stated, his deep voice echoing throughout the tunnel, “...to the Void.”
Kyle stared at the tunnel mutely. Then he looked back, seeing the rippling of the water at the doorway behind him. It must have been held back by a force field of some kind.
“Come,” the Dead Man ordered, levitating forward over the metal platform. Kyle paused, then followed, staring at the sharps tips of the crystals above him. Faint rays of blue light shone downward from each tip, aiming unerringly at Kyle...and following him as he walked. He heard a thunk, and lowered his gaze, seeing the Dead Man standing on the platform a few feet ahead, his boots no longer levitating above the ground. The dark Weaver's black cloak lay still for the first time.
Kyle stared, realizing he'd stopped walking.
“Follow me,” the Dead Man ordered.
They continued forward, their footsteps echoing down the tunnel, until the tunnel opened up into a modest-sized domed chamber. The platform broadened to cover the floor of the circular chamber. There was a large circular hole in the center of the platform, through which a cluster of broad, green crystals jutted out at a forty-five degree angle. The Dead Man strode up to the green crystal, gesturing for Kyle to follow.
“This is the Void,” the Dead Man explained, gesturing at the chamber. “This is where I was reborn into a Chosen of Xanos.”
Kyle glanced around the chamber, shivering a bit in the cool air.
“What's with all the crystals?” Kyle asked. He peered at one of the crystals forming the wall to his left, spotting something dark in its base.
“Those are Void crystals,” the Dead Man answered. “They were created by Xanos himself, each representing a vanquished enemy of the one God. They hold the secret to His power.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle pressed.
“That is for a later time,” the Dead Man replied. He stepped to the outer edge of the platform, reaching out and touching the tip of one of the white crystals. “Void crystals,” he murmured, “...are Xanos's creations, the conduit through which I receive His gift.”
Kyle frowned at the Dead Man, having no idea what he was talking about.
“I no longer generate magic,” the Dead Man continued. “It is a...consequence of my rebirth. Xanos provides me with the magic I require, and the means to acquire it for myself.” He gestured at his black cloak. “And the means to keep it. Without magic...” he pointed to the green crystal on his forehead with one finger. “...I would cease to exist.”
&n
bsp; “You mean you would die?” Kyle asked. The Dead Man stepped away from the edge of the platform, walking up to Kyle and staring down at him unblinkingly.
“Xanos provides,” he replied. “He is the giver and taker of life. I am loyal to Him, and so He will not forsake me.” Then the Dead Man knelt down before Kyle, his black eyes glittering in the soft light the countless white crystals lining the chamber gave off. “Loyalty,” he added, placing a pale, cold hand on Kyle's shoulder, “...is what Xanos – and I – value most.” He stood up then. “Onas niria rebra,” he murmured.
“What?” Kyle asked.
“Teliv trasyc hels,” the Dead Man stated. Kyle stared at him blankly, and the Dead Man frowned, his eyes flicking to Kyle's right ear. Kyle brought a hand up to his ear, feeling the earring Kalibar had placed there. He'd forgotten all about it.
The Dead Man walked up to the cluster of green crystals, touching one of them. The white crystals lining the chamber shifted color suddenly, turning light blue, and Kyle felt a powerful vibration in his skull.
“Loyalty,” the Dead Man stated, “...is the greatest form of wealth. There is no greater loyalty than that between a father and his children.” He sighed then, staring off into space. “Orik violated my trust,” he murmured. “The greatest test of a man is to give him unlimited power and wealth.”
The Dead Man paused for a moment, staring down at the green crystals. Kyle stared up at the man, saying nothing. At length, the Dead Man stirred, turning to face Kyle.
“Orik failed this test,” he stated grimly. “He gave up the possibility of becoming one of the Chosen...and for what?” He shook his head. “Petty revenge.”
“Wait,” Kyle said. “Orik was going to become...?”
“A Chosen,” the Dead Man interjected. “Like me.”
A chill ran down Kyle's spine.
“Come,” the Dead Man ordered, turning about and walking out of the domed chamber, back down the narrow platform toward the arched doorway. Kyle obeyed, following behind the man. “Your progress is unprecedented,” the Dead Man continued. “Attending classes with the other children will only slow you down. You will receive personalized training from myself and our finest Death Weavers from today onward.”