by Clayton Wood
“I can read English,” he retorted defensively. Ariana ignored him, grabbing Kalibar's hand, and leading him down the hallway until stopping at one of the doors.
“Here,” she half-whispered. “This is it.” Kalibar nodded, then reached out one hand, feeling for the door. When he'd found it, he gave the door three hard knocks, then stepped backward. They waited for a long moment, but the door remained closed. Kalibar paused, then knocked again. Seconds later, the surface of the door shimmered, then became translucent. A tall man stared back at them from the other side of the door. He appeared similar to the guards Kyle had seen in the guard shack the first time he'd been to the Secula Magna, resplendent in his black metallic armor and his helmet. The guard's eyes were barely visible behind his translucent visor. He lifted this, his eyes shifting from Kalibar to Kyle, then to Ariana. He did not look happy in the least.
“Who are you?” the guard demanded, his voice cold. “How did you get here?” Kyle froze, taken aback. Then he realized how they must look; an old, dirt-caked man with a bandanna over his eyes accompanied by two children wearing strange armor.
“My...” Kalibar began, but the guard cut him off.
“How did you get past the other guards?” the guard snapped.
“My name is Kalibar,” Kalibar proclaimed. “And I will see Grand Weaver Rivin.” The guard's eyes went from Kalibar's red bandanna to his scruffy, unkempt beard, then dropped to his dusty, hole-riddled clothing.
“Right,” he sneered.
“If you don't open the door, I will,” Kalibar threatened. He reached up, pulling away the cloth covering his empty eye sockets. The guard gasped, his eyes widening. “And then you will answer to two Grand Weavers.”
The guard sank to one knee on the floor, bowing before Kalibar. Then he rose to his feet, pressing something on the wall. The door became opaque once more, the guard vanishing from sight.
Seconds passed, and nothing happened.
Kyle glanced at Kalibar and Ariana, feeling a growing sense of unease. If the guard didn't believe them, he might alert more guards...and the resulting commotion could alert Orik or his allies on the Council.
The door shimmered, becoming translucent once again. This time, a tall, elderly man in a long black robe stood behind it, facing Kalibar. He had white hair, was clean-shaven, and had dark circles under his eyes. He stared at Kalibar's empty eye sockets for a long time, then his tattered clothes. He glanced down at Kyle and Ariana, then back at Kalibar, peering at the former Grand Weaver's face.
“Evening, Rivin,” Kalibar greeted, somehow sensing the man's presence. “Sorry for waking you, but as you can see, I have news that can't wait for the morning.”
* * *
Grand Weaver Rivin's face paled, and the door to his suite became opaque once more. A few moments later, it swung inward, and Grand Weaver Rivin stood just beyond, gesturing hurriedly for Kalibar, Kyle, and Ariana to come in. Kyle spotted the guard standing behind Rivin, his gaze downcast. The three walked into the room, the door swinging shut behind them.
“Good god Kalibar, what happened to your eyes?” Rivin exclaimed. “You need a doctor!”
“No doctors,” Kalibar retorted. “Not yet.”
“But your eyes!” Rivin protested.
“I'm afraid those are many miles away,” Kalibar stated grimly. He placed the bandanna back over his empty sockets. “We need to talk...and quickly.”
“Yes, of course,” Rivin agreed. “Come in, come in.” He placed a hand on Kalibar's shoulder, ushering him in. Kyle and Ariana followed close behind. The hallway opened up into a truly enormous room, even larger and more opulent than Kalibar's suite had been. The exterior walls and ceiling were made entirely of huge glass panels, giving a panoramic view of the city far below, and of the stars twinkling in the night sky above. The ceiling, Kyle realized, was actually the glittering glass pyramid he'd seen at the top of the Tower, tapering to a peak dozens of feet above their heads. The floor was polished granite, and numerous plush couches, chairs, and other furniture were arranged tastefully throughout the large living area. Large marble columns rose from the floor, supporting the glass ceiling far above.
“Sit, sit,” Rivin urged, guiding Kalibar to one of the high-backed white couches nearby. Kalibar sat, and Kyle and Ariana sat on either side of him. Rivin sat down on a couch opposite them. He stared at Kalibar's clothes; having been splattered with flesh-eating acid, stained with blood, and coated with a thin film of cave gunk, dust, and body odor, they were certainly a sight – and a smell – to behold.
“What happened to you, old friend?” Rivin asked. Kalibar sighed.
“That,” he replied, “...is a long story.”
“I'm listening.”
Kalibar told Rivin the entire tale, starting with the first attempt on his life back at his estate in Bellingham. He spoke of meeting Kyle, who he introduced as his grand-nephew, and their harrowing journey to the Tower. Rivin's eyes widened when Kalibar revealed Orik's treachery.
“That bastard,” Rivin swore, standing up and beginning to pace. “I can't believe it!” He strode the length of the room, then came back. “I can believe it,” he corrected. “The...”
“Rivin, please,” Kalibar interrupted. “It gets much, much worse.”
Rivin nodded, sitting back down on the couch.
Kalibar told Rivin of their travels to Crescent Lake, and of Kyle's rapid progress learning magic. Then he relived the Death Weaver attack, and their first meeting with the Dead Man.
“You have no idea how powerful this man was,” Kalibar stated, shaking his head. “He had runic technology that put ours to shame. He defeated me in combat, and took us prisoner.”
“I'm sorry,” Rivin stated. “If I had only known, I would...”
“You would have sent your best men to their deaths,” Kalibar interjected grimly. “It is only through the remarkable resourcefulness of my bodyguard, and no small amount of luck, that we managed to kill the Dead Man, and escape in one piece.”
“I will meet your bodyguard and give him every reward,” Rivin stated resolutely.
“He should be here shortly,” Kalibar replied.
“Good. I'm going to fetch Bartholos,” Rivin added. “He needs to hear this.” He leaned over, putting a hand on a glass orb laying on a side-table. The orb glowed faintly when touched.
“Thank you Rivin,” Kalibar stated. “I can't tell you what a relief it is to be here.”
“I can only imagine,” Rivin replied. He turned to Kyle then. “So you're Kalibar's grand-nephew?”
“Yes sir,” Kyle replied. “Grand Weaver,” he added sheepishly. Rivin smiled.
“A pleasure to meet such a remarkable young Weaver,” he stated.
“He's a remarkable young man indeed,” Kalibar agreed. “Even without his magical talents.”
“And what was your name again?” Rivin asked, turning to Ariana.
“Ariana,” she answered.
“Good to meet you,” Rivin stated. Ariana bowed deeply, and for the first time, Kyle saw her blush. Kyle couldn't blame her; he could only imagine that meeting Rivin must, to her, feel like meeting the President of the United States.
Rivin's front door opened, and soon after Rivin's guard escorted a tall, portly man in a white robe into the room. The man stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Kalibar, his jaw dropping.
“Good god, Kalibar!” he exclaimed in a deep, booming voice. He rushed up to where Kalibar sat, leaning over him. Kalibar broke into a grin.
“I'd recognize that voice anywhere,” he replied. “Good to hear you, Bartholos.” Bartholos grinned back at Kalibar, putting a meaty hand on Kalibar's dusty shoulder.
“Don't you use formalities with me, old friend!” Bartholos bellowed. Then his grin faded. “Why are you wearing that filthy rag over your eyes?
“Because he has no eyes,” Rivin replied darkly. Bartholos stared at Rivin blankly.
“What?”
“I'm afraid he's correct,” Kalibar sighed. He pulled off his ban
dana, revealing his sunken eye sockets. Bartholos jerked backward, drawing in a sharp breath.
“My god!” he exclaimed. “Who did this to you?” he demanded. “I'll have them hanged!”
“That would prove difficult,” Kalibar replied with a wry smirk. He told Bartholos the same story he'd told Rivin. Bartholos remained silent throughout, but was clearly becoming more agitated with every revelation. When Kalibar finished, Bartholos sat down next to Rivin on the couch, shaking his head.
“Orik, a traitor?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “That is a very serious allegation, Kalibar...as I'm sure you're aware. He's as good as elected as the next Grand Weaver of the Secula Magna. The Council has...and this stays between us...they've already reached a majority vote.”
“I guessed as much,” Kalibar admitted. “This makes it all the more critical that we stop him now, before he wins the office.”
“What proof do you have?” Bartholos pressed. “It's not that I don't believe you,” he added hastily. “It's just that we can't prosecute him without sufficient evidence.” Kalibar sighed heavily.
“Nothing but hearsay, I'm afraid.”
“We must have evidence to convict him,” the Grand Runic reasoned. “Remember what happened the last time you accused him?”
Kalibar stood there, his jaw clenched, saying nothing. Bartholos put a hand on Kalibar's shoulder.
“I'm sorry,” he apologized. “What do you suggest we do?”
“We must have a formal investigation, of course,” Kalibar replied. “We need time to gather evidence. We'll have to postpone the elections until Orik's innocence or guilt is proven; if he is confirmed as an agent of the Death Weavers, he'll be executed.”
“You do understand that Orik will claim this to be a politically motivated move,” Bartholos replied. “He'll accuse you of starting a smear campaign against him...and you know how persuasive he can be. If you end up not being able to find any hard evidence of his guilt, he'll ruin you...and end up winning anyway.”
“I know,” Kalibar replied with a sigh. “And that's why I didn't want to confront him at first.” He shook his head then. “But now I'm willing to sacrifice my reputation to nail him, if that's what it takes.”
“You've suffered enough,” Rivin countered.
“There's a small army of Death Weavers near Crescent Lake,” Bartholos reasoned. “Rivin, if you sent a contingent of Battle-Weavers there, you could round them up. If Orik grew up with them, they'll be able to confirm Kalibar's story.”
“They're cultists,” Kalibar retorted. “They're unlikely to betray their own.”
“Well we have to do something,” Bartholos complained. “We can't have a damned cult take over the Empire!”
“Agreed,” Rivin stated. “The sanctity of the Secula Magna takes precedence over the political machine. It is our duty to protect the Empire from all enemies, foreign or domestic...or in Orik's case, both.”
“What are you suggesting?” Kalibar asked.
“A traitor has subverted the democracy,” Rivin stated. “If we go by the usual legal channels, Orik will almost certainly triumph.”
“Are you suggesting we act outside of the law?” Bartholos asked. Rivin shrugged.
“What else can we do?” he replied. “I suggest we use our considerable influence to arrest Orik and...build evidence against him.”
“Ah,” Bartholos murmured. “I see.”
“Whatever you do, you'll have to do it discreetly,” Kalibar warned. “Spectacle will only hurt the Secula Magna. If the public finds out a traitor nearly achieved the highest office in the land, the government will lose credibility.”
“One of us should call Orik to our office tomorrow,” Grand Weaver Rivin stated. “For some unrelated purpose, of course. Perhaps under the pretense of congratulating him on his inevitable victory...”
“Yes,” Bartholos replied. “And we can both confront him there, with a few trusted guards present, of course.” He leaned back in the couch, patting his impressive belly with one hand. “After he is neutralized, we'll have his properties searched...and ensure that incriminating evidence is found. We should also send scouts to this 'Crescent Lake' to gather intelligence for a strike against these Death Weavers,” he added. “We'll collect witnesses, and...convince them to testify against Orik.”
“I can't say that I'm comfortable with subverting the law,” Kalibar admitted. “But it may be our only way to stop Orik.” He smiled then. “Thank you both,” he added. “I can't tell you how relieved I am. A few days ago, I was alone in a cell, my eyes torn out, with no hope of ever escaping. I never would have dreamed that I'd be home today, surrounded by my good friends.”
Grand Weaver Rivin smiled, putting a hand on Kalibar's shoulder.
“Kalibar, I've spent my life and career hoping to be like you one day,” he confessed. “We both have,” he added. Bartholos nodded in agreement. “We trust you completely...and we'll do everything we can to counter any threat to our Empire.”
“But first,” Bartholos interjected, “...so you don't pose any further threat to our noses, take a bath!”
Everyone burst out into laughter, and even Kyle found himself joining in. He felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Despite impossible odds, they'd made it back home, and alerted the authorities. Orik would be defeated, and Kalibar would finally be safe!
“Rivin, do you have any clean clothes for our esteemed colleague?” Bartholos asked. “I doubt he'll fit into mine,” he added, patting his generous belly.
“Of course,” Rivin replied. With that, the Grand Weaver led Kalibar through the door on the marble wall to their right. Kalibar disappeared beyond this, and the door closed. Soon Kyle heard the muffled sound of running water. Kyle couldn't help but be jealous of Kalibar; he'd been wearing the same clothes for days now, and they were getting awfully funky. A nice, warm bath would be heavenly about now. He glanced at Ariana, who was also staring at the door to the bathroom. By the longing expression on her face, she must have felt the same way.
Rivin came back to the couch, sitting next to Bartholos. He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.
“Now, what was your name again, son?” Bartholos asked, turning his eyes on Kyle.
“Kyle, sir,” he replied. “Uh, I mean, Grand Runic Bartholos.” His cheeks turned their customary red color, but Bartholos only chuckled.
“And you're...Ariana?” he pressed, turning to Ariana. She nodded.
“Yes Grand Runic Bartholos.”
Bartholos leaned forward, peering at Kyle. Then his eyes widened.
“My goodness, boy!” he exclaimed. “You're a literal fountain of magic, aren't you? I didn't notice with Kalibar sitting next to you.” He regarded Kyle hopefully. “Kalibar hasn't convinced you to waste your considerable talents as a Weaver, has he?”
“Uh...” Kyle started to answer, then stopped. How exactly to proceed? But Bartholos just laughed.
“He has, hasn't he? Ah, well...”
Kyle's obvious discomfort earned a good-natured laugh from Bartholos, whose ample belly shook with each guffaw. Kyle smiled in spite of himself; the Grand Runic's laughter was infectious, and pretty soon Kyle was chuckling too. Then a marble bust sitting on a pedestal behind Rivin flew forward, slamming into the back of the Grand Weaver's head, throwing the man bodily onto the floor. His arms and legs spasmed twice, and then he lay still.
A pool of blood appeared around his head, expanding rapidly.
“Rivin!” Bartholos cried, leaping up from the couch. He ran to Rivin's side, scanning the room with his eyes. A gravity shield appeared around him. “Guards! Help!” he bellowed.
Terror gripped Kyle, and he shot up from the couch, backing away from Rivin's motionless body. Ariana did the same. The one guard Kyle had seen earlier ran up to them, halting in his tracks when he spotted Grand Weaver Rivin lying on the floor. He stared at the body mutely, his eyes wide with shock.
“Activate the alarm!” Bartholos ordered. The guard just
stood there, staring at Rivin. Bartholos swore under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment. A high-pitched, wailing alarm sounded throughout the room, forcing Kyle to cover his ears with his hands. Bartholos's gaze shifted to Rivin, and a shimmering globe sprang to life around the two men. Bartholos knelt before Rivin, picking the man's head up off of the floor. Blood streamed from a large dent in the back of his skull. Bloody gray-yellow goop oozed from the wound, dribbling over Bartholos's hand. Bartholos jerked his hand away, his face turning deathly pale.
The door to the bathroom burst open, and out rushed Kalibar, a black robe tied about his waist. His hair was still wet from the shower, water dripping onto the granite floor.
“What's happening?” he demanded.
“We're under attack!” Bartholos cried. “Rivin is dead. Protect yourself!”
Kalibar froze, a few layers of gravity shields appearing around him.
“Kyle, Ariana,” he shouted, “...activate your armor!”
Kyle complied, streaming magic to the crystal on his breastplate. Ariana did the same, vanishing as her armor activated. Bartholos stood up, turning to the guard, who was still standing a dozen feet from them. He pointed right at the man.
“You, open the door for the rest of the guards!” The Grand Runic yelled. “Be careful, the assassin must be around here somewhere!” The guard stood there, unmoving, a blank expression on his face. “I said go!” Bartholos barked.
Still, the guard didn't move.
“I am your Grand Runic!” Bartholos shouted. The guard's eyes rose to meet Bartholos's.
“True,” the guard replied. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk. “But not for long.” He lifted one hand, and Rivin's body rose up from the floor, levitating in the air. Without warning, Bartholos's shield vanished, and Rivin's body flew into the portly Grand Runic, knocking him backward. Bartholos fell to the floor, Rivin's body splayed on top of him.
“Kalibar!” Kyle cried. “It's the guard...he's hurting Bartholos!” He ran toward Kalibar, vaulting over one of the white couches and skidding to a halt beside the former Grand Weaver. Kalibar stepped forward, drawing himself to his full height. Even with his empty eye sockets and his bathrobe, he looked imposing.