by Clayton Wood
“Decapitated, probably an hour ago,” he stated at last. “Wound was cauterized, no bleeding. Uniform stolen from one of ours...we found another body downstairs.”
“So it wasn't a rogue elite guard,” Kalibar deduced.
“Not likely,” Darius agreed. Kalibar's shoulders visibly relaxed at that. Much of his and Erasmus's time had been spent pouring through the ranks of their guards, ensuring that none were secretly agents of Xanos. Not a single impostor had been found, much to their frustration. Except of course for the man who'd killed Rivin and Bartholos; he'd been an elite guard for over a decade, biding his time until the order had come to strike. Xanos apparently planned for the long-term.
“Any clue as to how he got past my wards?” Kalibar asked.
“Nope,” Darius answered. Erasmus frowned, no doubt having expected the bodyguard to insult him again, and having come up with a particularly clever retort that he couldn't use. Darius ignored the Grand Runic, but Kyle noticed the corner of the bodyguard's mouth twitch. The two really were insufferable; much to Erasmus's ire, Darius had consistently proven the more skillful opponent. The man was a master at combat, whether with words or weapons.
“Ass,” Erasmus grumbled.
“Without knowing how he got in, it'll be impossible to prevent it again,” Kalibar observed, ignoring the two men. “And we still don't know who – or what – killed the assassin before he managed to kill me.”
“Agreed,” Erasmus stated, his expression sour. “None of this makes any sense. We're missing something, Kalibar.”
At that moment, a man in a white cloak strode into the bedroom, flanked by a few of Kalibar's guards. He was quite old, at least seventy by Kyle's estimation, with gaunt, smooth-shaven cheeks contrasting with his quick and calculating brown eyes. He was Jax, the eldest Council member, appointed leader of the twelve-member group that wielded power second only to Erasmus and Kalibar. He ignored the body on the ground, nodding curtly at Kalibar and Erasmus.
“Good morning, Excellencies,” he greeted, putting a wrinkled hand on Kalibar's shoulder.
“Good morning, Jax,” Kalibar replied.
“We've locked down the Tower,” Jax stated crisply. “The top ten floors have been evacuated. As of now, no risers will go past the thirtieth floor,” he added. “Not until we figure out how this happened.”
“Yes, well,” Erasmus replied, rubbing his bald head sheepishly. Jax was one of the few Runics alive more skilled than Erasmus. If anyone would know how the assassin had gotten past Erasmus's wards, it would be Jax. “Any ideas?” Erasmus asked.
“Your wards were excellent,” Jax replied authoritatively. “I myself would not have been able to breach them.”
“Which can only mean one thing,” Kalibar said with a sigh.
“Xanos,” Jax agreed. Kyle felt a chill run down his spine. It could have been no other. The self-proclaimed god had power far beyond their understanding.
“I can't defend Kalibar against a god!” Erasmus protested, clearly frustrated. “If Xanos can get an assassin within a foot of his bed, what's to stop him from killing us all in our sleep?”
“Nothing,” Jax replied darkly. Kalibar frowned.
“Except I'm not dead,” he countered. Jax and Erasmus turned to look at him. “Erasmus, your wards failed, but the fact remains...the assassin is dead, and I'm not. Which means something was protecting me.”
“Good point,” Erasmus admitted. They all turned to stare at Kyle. Or more precisely, the ring on Kyle's left thumb. Kyle felt his face flush, and he lowered his gaze to the floor.
“We need to redouble our efforts to decode that ring,” Jax stated. “And duplicate it. It may be the only real defense we'll have against our enemy.”
“Agreed,” Erasmus said. “Everything else – the guards, the wards...hell, even our armies – is pointless against Xanos. He could walk one of his Chosen straight through ten legions of infantry and destroy them all!”
“Don't remind me,” Kalibar grumbled. He'd been spending most of his days planning the mobilization of the Empire's vast military, preparing for any assault against Stridon and the Empire's other key cities. Doing so had put him at odds with the Council; each Councilman owned four legions – each containing 10,000 men – of the Empire's military. Any use of military force required authorization by the Council by a majority vote. Getting them to agree to Kalibar's strategies had taken a monumental effort...and as Erasmus had so bluntly stated, that effort had likely been for naught.
“That reminds me,” Jax stated. “The Council is requesting a debriefing regarding this assassination attempt...and they're eager to hear how the attack on the Death Weaver base on Crescent Isle went.”
“Of course,” Kalibar replied. “I assume they'd rather not meet here,” he added wryly. Jax smirked.
“Corpses don't bother me,” the elder Councilman replied, “...but I doubt such a symbol of our failure would work to our advantage with the rest of the Council.” Kyle noticed Erasmus's eyes falling to stare at the floor. The Grand Runic was taking the matter of his wards harder than Kyle had thought. “We could use the War room,” Jax offered. Kalibar nodded in agreement.
“Convene them in the War room then,” Kalibar replied. “Lead the way,” he added. Jax placed one hand on Kalibar's back, walking side-by-side with the Grand Weaver out of the bedroom. Erasmus followed close behind. Kalibar paused at the doorway, turning back toward Kyle.
“You'd better come too, Kyle,” he said. “You too, Darius.” Then he resumed walking.
“Can I come?” Ariana asked. Kalibar nodded.
“Of course.”
With that, they left the room, leaving the headless corpse of the assassin laying on the ground. Kyle glanced back, and noticed the man's severed head laying on its side a few feet from the body. He stifled a shudder.
The dead man's eyes were staring right back at him.
Chapter 3
The twelve members of the Council sat around the huge, circular table in the center of the War room. Kalibar and Erasmus sat side-by-side at one end of the table, Jax at the other, the eleven other Councilmen positioned in-between. They were all older men and women, seasoned politicians that had risen through the ranks to become the most powerful people in the Empire, save for Kalibar and Erasmus. As in the United States, they were split into two parties, the Populists and the Elitists. The Populists championed policies that supposedly favored the lower classes, making them popular amongst much of the populace. The Elitists tended to favor the rich and powerful. Each believed themselves to be possessed of the Truth, and saw the other party as being obviously wrongheaded in their views. From what Kyle could tell, Kalibar tended toward Populist ideals, while Erasmus was an Elitist. Somehow, the two managed to respect each other’s differences, unlike the rest of the Council.
The meeting had begun with Kalibar recounting his tale of what happened earlier that morning. When he'd finished, an older Councilman wearing black robes sitting next to Jax leaned his elbows on the table, frowning at Kalibar. He was, Kyle knew, Councilman Goran, the most senior Elitist on the Council. With jet-black hair slicked back over his head, and a full, trimmed beard, he was a handsome and imposing figure. He also seemed to hate Kalibar – and by extension, Erasmus.
“I don't understand,” Goran said, his deep voice booming across the table. “How did the assassin get into your bedroom?” He glanced at Erasmus, then turned his gaze back to Kalibar. “Weren't your rooms warded, Grand Weaver?” Erasmus glared at Goran, and leaned forward to respond, but Kalibar stopped him with a hand on Erasmus's arm.
“They were, Councilman Goran,” Kalibar answered calmly. “None of the wards had been set off by the assassin,” he added. Goran sat back in his chair, clearly unconvinced.
“That's hard to believe,” he stated. “Unless of course the wards were deactivated somehow,” he added. Even Kyle knew that runic wards could only be deactivated by the person who made them, at least if they were going to be deactivated quickly.
It was a dig at Erasmus.
“They weren't deactivated,” Kalibar replied. “The wards were still active when I woke.”
“So unless our assassin deactivated them, then reactivated them before getting decapitated, so that he'd have to deactivate them again in order to escape before being caught...” Erasmus shot back, “...then your theory doesn't add up.” Goran frowned at Erasmus.
“No need to get defensive, your Excellency,” he stated. “I understand your point, but if you're right, and the runes weren't deactivated first, then how did the assassin get to Kalibar in the first place?” A few of the other Councilmen nodded in agreement. It was an excellent point – and one that Erasmus couldn't refute. With his wards active, a gnat couldn't have gotten into the room without being instantly destroyed.
“We still don't know,” Kalibar admitted.
“Is it possible that someone deactivated the wards for the assassin?” Goran asked. “And then reactivated them after the assassin died, but before Kalibar woke?”
“It's possible,” Jax piped in, nodding at Goran. “In fact, it's the only plausible scenario.”
“But that would require someone with intimate knowledge of those wards, to deactivate them so quickly,” Goran continued, glancing at Erasmus again.
“Why don't you just say it?” Erasmus shot back, glaring at Goran. But Goran's eyebrows rose, and he looked genuinely surprised.
“Say what?” he asked. “I'm merely suggesting that there may have been two assassins, one with knowledge of your wards. A man on the inside...a traitor.”
“A disturbing possibility,” one of the other Councilmen agreed.
“But why would this traitor reactivate the wards to hide his tracks, only to leave the body of the assassin?” Kalibar asked.
“Perhaps to send us a message,” Jax replied grimly.
“That our defenses are useless?” Goran asked. Jax nodded. Goran shook his head. “Then why not finish the job? That would have sent an even more powerful message.”
“Agreed,” Jax replied. “No offense, Grand Weaver.”
“None taken,” Kalibar stated. “I agree with you, Goran,” he added. The statement made Erasmus's face change colors; the fiery Grand Runic hated Goran with a passion, and for good reason. While Goran always managed to appear reasonable, and never outright insulted Erasmus or Kalibar – or the other Populists – he was a consummate politician, able to insinuate, manipulate, and aggravate while remaining maddeningly blameless. Erasmus fell for Goran's tricks all the time, constantly trying to catch Goran in the act, and Goran took full advantage of that. Their interactions inevitably left the Grand Runic appearing impulsive, hotheaded, and paranoid...when only the first two were accurate.
“Well the assassin didn't just up and kill himself,” Erasmus grumbled. “So either this imaginary accomplice killed him, or someone else did.”
“Or something else,” Kalibar interjected.
“Well it certainly wasn't the wards,” Goran observed, crossing his arms over his chest. Again, Erasmus held his tongue, stopped by Kalibar's hand on his arm. Jax frowned at Goran disapprovingly.
“Those wards,” the Elder Runic retorted sternly, “...were flawless. I reviewed them myself after they were placed. No Runic in the Empire...and certainly no Weaver,” he added, giving Goran – a Weaver himself – a particularly withering look, “...could have gotten past them.”
“I would hardly characterize them as flawless,” Goran shot back, his tone deceptively mild. Then he gestured at the rest of the Council. “How many of you here would trust your lives to those wards?” The other Councilmen stirred uncomfortably in their seats, clearly disturbed by the question. The fact was, all of their rooms were protected by wards that Erasmus had devised. And by the looks of it, not a single member of the Council appeared eager to raise their hand. Another master stroke by Goran, insulting Erasmus without anyone being able to fault him for it. Still, Jax glared at the man.
“Be careful, Councilman,” Jax warned, clearly losing patience with Goran's antics. Goran uncrossed his arms, nodding almost imperceptibly at the Elder Runic. He, like the other members of the Council, deferred to Jax...at least when it came to maintaining decorum. Kyle couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction at watching Goran be censured. Despite having been present at several Council meetings in the two days since Kalibar had won the election, he was still shocked by the undercurrent of hostility between the Populists and the Elitists. It was a polite war, for sure, and often terribly boring to watch, but it was far from the way Kyle would have imagined an Empire would be run. It was more like a sporting event, with two teams bent on beating the other instead of doing what was best for the Empire. Luckily, while Erasmus fought back in kind, Kalibar treated each member of the Council with unflappable politeness...a quality that defused tensions more effectively than the most clever of counterattacks.
“Do keep in mind that I'm not dead,” Kalibar piped in, a bemused smile on his face. “I was protected, and I have every reason to believe that any of you would have been, too.”
“Explain yourself, Grand Weaver,” an elderly Councilman requested. Kyle recognized the man as Ibicus, the second-eldest Runic on the Council, after Jax. Ibicus had long salt-and-pepper hair, with silver eyes and a smooth-shaven face that appeared much younger than his 70-odd years. While Ibicus was an Elitist, and typically sided with Goran, he did not engage in Goran's style of politicking. Indeed, Ibicus hardly said anything at all during Council meetings; when he did speak, everyone listened.
Kalibar turned his head toward Ibicus; the act gave the disturbing illusion that the Grand Weaver could still see.
“Xanos was almost certainly involved in this assassination attempt,” he replied. “...and this isn't the first time we've been protected from his magic.”
The Councilmen murmured to each other, nodding in agreement. Kyle knew that they were all thinking back to when Xanos had nearly killed them all, cutting them down with a whirlwind of razor-sharp pieces of glass. Yet no one had suffered more than minor injuries from the ordeal, and Xanos had been defeated...if only temporarily. Everyone believed that Kyle's ring was responsible for protecting them. Kyle knew better, but he'd been forbidden from telling anyone the truth.
“An interesting theory,” Goran conceded, “...but forgive me if I have reservations about trusting my life...and the lives of my fellow Councilmen...to Kyle's ring.” Then he turned to Kyle. “Please understand that I'm grateful to you,” he stated rather hurriedly. Everyone had treated Kyle remarkably well since the attack a week ago. No one understood how Kyle's ring worked, but everyone knew about the tests on the prisoners who'd worn the ring. The powerful artifact only seemed to work when Kyle was wearing it...and only protected those that were on Kyle's side. It was ironic that Goran, so ready to dismiss Kyle's ring, was as yet unwilling to cross it.
“We must deal in realities,” Kalibar declared. “We would already be dead if it weren't for Kyle, so we must accept that his ring has protected us. I for one am grateful...no more so than today,” he added. “In any case, we can review proposed security measures after this meeting. Unless anyone has anything else to add, I suggest that we move on to the debriefing regarding Crescent Lake.”
“Agreed,” Jax said. “Councilman Goran?” Goran nodded grudgingly. Jax turned to Kalibar. “You have the floor, Grand Weaver.” Kalibar stood then, facing the Council with his double-eyepatches. Once again, Kyle nearly fell for the illusion that Kalibar could still see.
“My Battle-Weavers returned from the Arena last night,” he stated. “They suffered no casualties,” he added. “But not on account of their skill. When they arrived at the foot of the cave entrance to the enemy base, it was unguarded. They found dead bodies everywhere, soldiers and Death Weavers.” Kalibar paused, taking a sip from a glass of water on the table, then continued.
“The Battle-Weavers made their way down the tunnels into the Arena itself. They found more bodies...hundreds of them. The Arena itself wa
s deserted.”
“So everyone had been killed?” Councilwoman Hess asked.
“Not quite,” Kalibar replied grimly. “When my Battle-Weavers searched the dormitories in the Arena, they found dozens of children hiding in the classrooms. They were terrified...they didn't even put up a fight, even though many were Weavers. They were relieved to see us.”
“Where are these children now?” Goran asked.
“We've detained them,” Kalibar answered. “They're being kept in the maximum-security wing of Stridon Penitentiary. We're treating them well, of course. They're being questioned at this very moment.”
“Excellent,” Goran stated. “The information they provide may be critical in winning this war.”
“I will keep the Council informed, of course,” Kalibar promised.
“So what happened to all of the Death Weavers?” another Councilman inquired.
“When we asked the children,” Kalibar answered, “...they said that someone – or something – came for them in the middle of the night. All of the lights in the Arena went out at once...and anyone who tried to weave the light pattern found that it wouldn't work. They were thrust into complete darkness. Panicking, the children made their way blindly into the dormitories. One by one, they heard the screams of the Death Weavers. The students were led into a few classrooms by their teachers, and huddled there in the absolute darkness. Then they heard their teachers scream, and fall to the floor. Every child sat there, terrified, thinking that they would be next.”
“What happened?” Jax pressed.
“Nothing,” Kalibar replied. “Eventually, one of the children tried to weave the light pattern...but this time it worked. When their classroom lit up, they found their teachers lying on the floor, dead.”
“Dear god,” Jax exclaimed.
“They'd all been killed,” Kalibar explained. “Every last Death Weaver. The children had been spared, for what reason I can only guess at.”