by Clayton Wood
Far above, beyond the widening holes in the ceiling, Ampir sees a massive black metallic foot...and beyond that, a huge, green, diamond-shaped eye staring down at them.
The Behemoth!
He resists the urge to grab Junior and flee, knowing that Vera's only chance at surviving lay in teleporting to safety. With the Tower destroyed, the nearest trauma center is hours away...and her time is quickly running out. He draws the last of the magic from his armor, shoving it toward the crystal. Its runes flash a bright blue, and suddenly the air ten feet above the dais tears open, forming a black circular portal.
Yes!
Ampir stares at the portal, realizing that it's only a foot in diameter...far too small for Vera or himself to fit through. He struggles to stream more magic to the teleporter, but he barely has any left.
“What's wrong?” Vera asks. Ampir shakes his head.
“It's too small,” he replies, staring at the portal in disbelief. He'd put an enormous amount of magic into the teleporter...the portal shouldn't be that small!
“We'll go one at a time,” she offers weakly.
“It's too damn small,” he retorts angrily. “We can't fit through it.” He grits his teeth. “Shit!”
Vera stares up at the rift, then looks at Junior.
“He can,” she counters.
Ampir looks down at Junior. She's right, of course. As small as he is, the rift is just large enough for him to fit through.
The Behemoth's massive foot rises, then slams down on the fractured ceiling. The dome sinks inward, huge fragments of stone breaking away and falling toward them. The pieces strike the shield above their heads, barely deflected by the magical barrier. Ampir struggles to maintain the shield, the magic reserves in his mind all but exhausted. He feels Vera's hand on his cheek.
“Send him,” Vera urges. “Save him.”
“I need to save you,” he protests. But Vera shakes her head.
“Do it,” she orders, her tone harsh. He swallows in a dry throat, looking up at the rift. It's starting to shrink, he realizes. The magic powering the teleporter is running out. He turns to Junior.
“Get up on that,” he commands, gesturing at the dais. Junior hesitates, staring at his father, then his mother. “Do it!” Ampir shouts. Junior flinches, but obeys, climbing up onto the dais beside the huge red crystal. Ampir hesitates, then leans forward, kissing his son on the forehead.
I'll come for you, he vows silently.
He reaches for the ring hanging on the necklace around his own neck...the engagement ring Vera had proposed to him with. He tears it from the necklace, staring at it intently. The band is silver, the large yellow gemstone on top glittering in the faint light. Tiny words had been etched into the band.
To my husband, for eternity.
He closes his eyes, pulling cords of power into his mind's eye, twisting them around each other to form a throbbing knot in the center. He throws it outward, rapidly etching tiny runes into the ring's gemstone, almost too small for the eye to see. Dozens of interconnected runes, working together for a single purpose.
This way, I'll never lose you.
He gives the ring to Junior, holding Vera in his other arm. He strains to carry her now, his armor no longer giving him near-unlimited strength. He puts a hand on Junior's cheek, giving him a weak smile.
“I love you, son.”
He weaves magic in his mind's eye one last time, throwing it outward at Junior. The boy levitates upward in the air, flying toward the steadily shrinking portal above. Ampir thrusts as much magic as he can at his son, lifting him up through the rift. Junior's head passes through, followed by his shoulders. Then his waist passes through.
The portal closes more rapidly now, threatening to slice Junior in half.
Ampir grimaces, ripping magic from his mind's eye and shoving it at the boy. Junior bursts upward, his legs passing through...just as the portal snaps shut. Something small falls from where the rift had been, bouncing off of the dais and falling onto the floor. Ampir stares at it, taking a moment to realize what it is.
A toe.
He looks back up to the space where his son had just been, feeling a terrible emptiness come over him. Whatever destination Renval had set the teleporter to, it was far away...so far that he had the sinking feeling that he would never see Junior again. At least he knew that wherever Renval had set the teleporter to transport his son to, it would be safe. Renval would never leave the coordinates in a dangerous location. He feels eyes upon him, and looks down at Vera. She smiles, gazing back at him with her painfully beautiful eyes.
“See something you like?” she inquired.
He smiles back at her, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat.
“I do now,” he replies.
She closes her eyes then, resting her head against his armored shoulder. Her breaths come more slowly now, her skin terribly pale.
“Kiss me,” she murmurs.
He leans down, pressing his lips against hers. He can smell her perfume, the same intoxicating scent she'd worn the day they'd met. Tears spill down his cheeks, and he chokes back a sob, pulling his head away. He looks down at her, taking a deep, shuddering breath in, then letting it out.
It takes him a moment to realize she isn't breathing.
“Baby,” he calls out, shaking her a little. She doesn't move.
Oh god no. Please, no!
An ear-splitting boom echoes through the chamber. Ampir looks up seeing the ceiling above them disintegrating, the Behemoth's huge, metallic foot – nearly half the size of the massive chamber itself – falling toward them, bringing the shattered ceiling down with it in a deadly free-fall.
He looks down at his wife, her pale skin seeming to glow the faintest of blues. He runs his hand through her hair.
“I love you baby,” he whispers.
Then he looks upward, just before the massive metallic foot slams into them from above.
Chapter 1
Kyle yelled out, bolting upright, his heart pounding in his chest. He jerked his head upward, half-expecting to see a massive foot falling toward him, but found a dull white ceiling there instead. He relaxed, realizing he was in a modestly-sized bedroom. Sunlight shone through the large window beside his bed, casting brilliant rays of light across his bedsheets. Everything in the room – the bed, the sheets, the bureau, the gilded mirror atop the bureau – was tastefully ornate, unlike his bedroom back on Earth. It was the kind of room one would expect a very rich man to own – and indeed, the owner was possessed of enormous wealth and power. For he was Grand Weaver Kalibar, co-leader of the most powerful empire in the known world. And he just so happened to be Kyle's legal guardian, mentor, and – despite their vast difference in age – his best friend.
Kyle took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. He felt his pulse slowing, the nightmare losing its power over him. He hadn't had a nightmare like that for over a week now. He used to get them every night – extraordinarily vivid dreams, memories transmitted to him from a mysterious man who died – or rather, should have died – over two thousand years ago.
He happened to glance downward, and groaned. His sheets were completely soaked – and not just with sweat. A quick sniff test confirmed his worst fears...once again, he'd wet the bed. It'd been over a week since he'd done that, too...he'd rather hoped he'd finally outgrown the problem.
Suddenly he heard muffled voices coming from just beyond his bedroom door. He felt terror grip him, and he leaped off of the bed, making a mad dash for the door. Had he locked it? If anyone caught him like this...! But as he reached for the doorknob, he realized there wasn't one. It took him a moment to remember that most doors here opened and closed magically, not mechanically. They were also locked magically, and to his relief, a small blue light in the center of the door indicated that the locking mechanism had been engaged.
He fought down the wave of panic, rushing back to his bed and peeling off the wet bedsheets, trying to avoid touching the soaked parts. He threw these to t
he floor, then glanced at the bare mattress. Luckily it was waterproof. With only the sheets soaked, he still had a chance to get rid of the evidence before Jenkins, Kalibar's head butler, came in to tidy up his room. No one here knew about his little problem, and he had no intention of them ever finding out.
Kyle bent down to gather up the damp bedding into one enormous ball, picking it up and lugging it into the bathroom. Luckily, every guest room in Kalibar's suite had its own full bath; Kyle brought the sheets to the luxurious tub therein, dropped the bedding into it, then stepping back to consider his options. If he rinsed off the urine, then dried the sheets, Jenkins would never be the wiser. But the faucet for the tub was far too low to do the job...there wasn't a shower head. Luckily, he had magic on his side!
He closed his eyes, feeling a pulsing thread of power in the middle of his skull, and grabbed it with his will, weaving it into a tight knot. He thrust it outward toward the air right above the tub. Almost instantly, a strong, cold wind whipped through his hair, and at the same time, a veritable waterfall appeared above the tub. Water splashed over the soiled bedding until it was completely soaked, the urine seeping from the fabric and spilling down the drain. In less than a minute, no pee-smell remained, and he stopped the magical stream. He shivered then; the air in the bathroom was suddenly much colder than it had been seconds ago. Water creation magic required a great deal of heat, and it stole that heat from everything around it, cooling the surroundings significantly.
Kyle put his hands on his hips, surveying his work. Now what? He couldn't just leave the bedding in the tub...someone was bound to find it and start asking questions. He needed to get the sheets dry, so no one would be the wiser. What if he used the fire pattern? With a thought, he could create a flame that would hover in the air wherever he wanted. If he used the tiniest bit of magic, he might be able to warm up the sheets a bit, evaporating the water. Yes, it had to work! He stood back, weaving the tiniest bit of magic into the fire pattern, then throwing it out at the bedding.
The fabric hissed and sputtered, then burst promptly into flames.
He recoiled in horror, instantly severing the stream of magic. But the bedding continued to burn, the flames growing taller by the second. Black smoke rose from the tub, making Kyle cough, his eyes stinging sharply. He stifled the urge to bolt from the room screaming for help, and instead wove magic rapidly, creating another waterfall atop the burning bedding. The cool water doused the flames with an angry hiss, steam billowing up to the ceiling.
Kyle stood there, gawking at the blackened mountain of fabric, suddenly wishing that Xanos had killed him when he'd had the chance. What the heck was he going to do now? Kalibar was going to have him hanged!
Just then, he heard a knock on his bedroom door.
Kyle nearly leaped out of his skin, sprinting out of the bathroom. Then he skid to a halt, turning around and slamming the bathroom door shut to hide the evidence. He turned about again, peering through the smoky haze that had filled his bedroom, holding back another coughing fit. He needed to get rid of this smoke...and fast!
“One minute!” he yelled.
He rushed to the window by his bed, pulling it open. A slight breeze wafted in...not good enough. What he needed was a fan to blow the smoke out...but fans didn't exist here. He stared out of the window, then he had a sudden burst of inspiration. He wove some more magic, throwing it a few feet beyond his window, and a stream of water appeared there. Air was sucked toward the stream – a consequence of a gas being fused together to make a liquid – pulling the smoky air in the bedroom outside. Within moments, the entire room had been cleared. Kyle crossed his arms in front of him, rather pleased at his handiwork.
Then he heard some shouting from down below, and stuck his head out of the window, looking down. Forty stories below, a group of men in black robes were looking upward at him, gesticulating furiously, their hair and fine clothing completely soaked. Kyle recoiled in horror, slamming the window shut and backpedaling quickly. Had the men seen his face? No, they couldn't have...his room was over eight hundred feet up...
He heard more knocking at the door.
Kyle spun around, running to answer the door. He felt something wet on his belly as he ran, and stopped right before the door, glancing down at himself. The entire front of his pajamas was soaked with urine! He turned to his bureau, on top of which a neatly folded stack of black clothing lay. Jenkins must have left the new set for him, bless the butler's heart! Kyle scrambled out of his clothes, throwing them in the tub with the burnt bedding. Then he changed rapidly, having just managed to pull on his pants when the blue light in the center of the door went dark, signaling that it had been unlocked from the outside. The door opened, a man's head peering in from behind it.
“You okay in there?” the man asked. It was one of Kalibar's elite guards, powerful armored Battle-Weavers that acted as the personal bodyguards of the Empire's rulers – and by extension, Kyle. Kyle nodded sheepishly, hoping he didn't look as guilty as he felt. The guard frowned. “I smelled smoke coming from your room,” he added suspiciously.
“Smoke, sir?” Kyle asked, trying his best to look innocent. The guard sniffed the air.
“Guess not,” he muttered. Then he opened the door all the way. He was clad in black metal armor, but wore no helmet. Helmets had lost their appeal in Stridon of late. “Come with me,” he ordered. “Master Owens is expecting you.”
Kyle nodded, walking out of his room and following the guard into the main living room of Kalibar's magnificent suite. The guard stopped suddenly, turning about and facing Kyle.
“The Aegis,” he reminded. Kyle nearly slapped his own forehead; he'd forgotten to wear his protective chest-piece. He ran back into his room, grabbing it from his dresser and putting it on. The magical armor had been given to him by Kalibar as a gift during his coronation ceremony a few days ago; it was over two thousand years old, and extraordinarily powerful, able to protect Kyle from just about any attack. Kalibar had insisted that Kyle wear the armor every day, only taking it off before he went to bed. Kalibar's enemies would stop at nothing to defeat him, even if that meant attacking his new family. Kyle always felt safer with it on.
That done, Kyle and his chaperone walked back into the main room of the suite. The Grand Weaver had two suites in the Great Tower; this one, which he had acquired after his first term as Grand Weaver six years ago, and an even larger suite one floor above. Kyle trailed behind the guard, exiting Kalibar's suite and taking the magical elevator – a riser, they called it – all the way down to the first floor. The two made their way down the long hallway from the riser to the main lobby, which was already bustling with students rushing to get to their classes. The crowd gave Kyle and his elite guard wide berth, parting before them. Kyle ignored the stares of the students; as the newly adopted son of the most powerful Weaver in the land, Kyle had become a bit of a celebrity. He'd enjoyed the attention for the first day or two, but now he wished people would just get over it already.
He followed his guard through the lobby past the gawking students, stepping through massive double doors to go outside. The Great Tower was surrounded on all sides by a large campus, with dormitories and other buildings scattered across miles of verdant fields. The campus in turn was encircled by a huge circular fence three stories tall, a fence that created a massive domed gravity shield protecting the entire campus. It was called the Gate Shield, and it had protected the Tower for over two hundred years. Together, the Tower and the campus were known as the Secula Magna, the school of magic. The Great Tower was also the political center of the Empire, home to its highest-ranking government officials.
Kyle and his guard stepped out into the morning sunlight, pushing past the steady stream of students pouring into the Tower. The Gate Shield shimmered hundreds of feet above their heads, barely visible against the cloudless blue sky beyond.
Master Owens was the Weaver Kalibar had chosen to teach Kyle magic. Kyle had only learned three magic patterns during his harrow
ing imprisonment at the hands of the Dead Man – how to make light, fire, and water – and there were dozens more he needed to commit to memory before he could ever call himself a true Weaver. Master Owens had apparently been quite the Battle-Weaver in his day. The old man had been teaching Kyle in one of the courtyards just outside of the Tower for almost a week now. He was kind and patient, but not quite the teacher the Dead Man had proven to be. As manipulative and sadistic as the Dead Man had been, he'd also had the benefit of over a century and a half of experience, something Master Owens had no hope of ever obtaining.
The guard escorted Kyle about a half-mile from the Tower, veering from one of the countless cobblestone pathways and striding across the lawn toward a short man clad in long black robes. Kyle immediately recognized him as Master Owens. Master Owens smiled as Kyle approached.
“Good morning Kyle,” he greeted amiably, his brown eyes darting to the elite guardsman at Kyle's side. The guard bowed, then turned and left the way he'd come. Master Owens cleared his throat, returning his gaze to Kyle. “Had a bit of trouble getting up this morning?” he inquired. Kyle blushed.
“Yes sir,” he replied. “Sorry sir,” he added sheepishly. Master Owens smiled. He must have been sixty or so, but he had a cherub face that hid his years, with short gray hair springing messily from his head. He was clean-shaven, and almost always smiling. It was, consequently, impossible to dislike the man.
“Quite all right,” Master Owens replied good-naturedly. “Of course, I expect you to be as early tomorrow as you were late today,” he added. Kyle sighed, nodding obediently. That was Master Owens' way...if you made him wait, he'd make you wait. Despite his affable nature, the man was a strict disciplinarian.
“Now,” Mr. Owens stated, “...do you remember yesterday's lesson?” Kyle nodded again. Master Owens had taught him two new patterns in the last few days: one that allowed him to manipulate gravity, the other creating a gooey, sticky substance out of thin air. Kyle wasn't quite sure what the substance was for, but he'd found the gravity pattern to be enormously useful. With it, he could easily create a sphere of gravitational energy in mid-air, one that would suck objects into itself until they floated in its center. Of course, he'd fallen into his own sphere the first time he'd woven it. Apparently everyone did; the gravity field sucked in quite a bit of air when first created, making a vacuum that was all too easy for the uninitiated to get pulled into. The other type of gravity field – the opposite of the pulling-in kind – was the reverse-gravity field. It pushed everything outward. Gravity fields could be created in all sorts of shapes and sizes, and had an enormous number of applications.