by Clayton Wood
“He's quite powerful,” Banar agreed. “Here, why don't you hold on to this for a second,” he added, tossing the Finder stone to Kyle. It turned clear almost immediately after it left Banar's hands, then shifted to gray after Kyle caught it, cycling rapidly through red, yellow, green, and then a dark blue, slowing as it went. Kyle looked up at Banar, a grin on his face.
“Hey, it's blue now!” he exclaimed.
“People make more magic as they go through puberty,” Banar explained. “And by using lots of magic – and forcing your body to make more to replace it – you can drastically increase the rate at which you produce magic,” he added. Then he gave Kyle a strange smile. “Look down,” he ordered. Kyle did so, glancing at the Finder stone cradled in his palms.
It was black.
Kyle blinked, staring at it. The crystal was utterly black, and no longer translucent. It may as well have been a cannon ball. He glanced up at Master Banar questioningly.
“That's what I thought,” Banar murmured, staring at the Finder stone for a moment, then taking it from Kyle's hands. It gradually reverted back to a pale yellow hue.
“What?” Kyle asked.
“I've never seen that before,” Banar admitted, “...but I've read about the possibility.”
“What?”
“The designers of the Finder stone included another color after violet, even though they never believed that anyone would be able to produce that much magic,” Banar explained. “But you just did.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means that you make more magic than Grand Weaver Kalibar,” Banar explained.
“What?”
“You are good at something, Kyle,” Banar stated, placing the crystal ball back in his pocket. “In fact, you might just be the best in the world at it...at producing magic.”
* * *
Kyle stared at Master Banar, his mouth agape. Master Banar chuckled at Kyle's shocked expression, patting him on the shoulder.
“You alright?” he asked with a grin.
“How?” Kyle blurted out at last.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, how can I make so much magic?” Kyle clarified. “Just a few weeks ago, I could only turn it blue,” he added. Banar shrugged.
“You're growing, Kyle,” he replied. “People gain magic the quickest during puberty,” he added. “You're maturing in more ways than one.” Kyle nodded, but he hardly felt comforted by his new-found ability.
“So what?” he muttered. “What's the point of being able to make a lot of magic if I can't use it?”
“But you can,” Banar insisted. “Magic powers everything in the Empire,” he added. “We need producers like you to keep everything running.”
“Great,” Kyle muttered. “So I'm gonna be a glorified generator.”
“Well, no,” Banar replied. “But you'll be very helpful in keeping the city's storage crystals filled with magic.”
“What crystals?”
“Stridon has massive crystals stored below ground,” Banar explained. “Giant cables conduct magic from the storage crystals to everything in the city...the street lights, the Tower, and the Gate Shield, for example.”
“So Ariana will be flying around fighting wars and saving lives while I stay home filling crystals with magic?” Kyle sighed. “Great.”
“Don't give up hope just yet,” Banar counseled. “You have a great gift, but it doesn't mean you're doomed to a fate you don't want.” He put a hand on Kyle's shoulder. “And you know, you don't have to be a warrior to be a hero...or a hero to be important.”
“I guess,” Kyle muttered.
“Come on,” Banar said, “...let's get back to your lessons.” He took his hand off of Kyle's shoulder. “Now, remember how Weavers can sense when another Weaver is weaving a particular pattern?”
“Yeah,” Kyle replied. Kalibar had said as much at Crescent Lake. “Like Kalibar's glasses,” he added. Kalibar had worn a pair of glasses that had symbols flash on the inside whenever a particular pattern was being cast by a nearby enemy. Master Banar nodded.
“Yes, but even without the glasses, Grand Weaver Kalibar could still sense these patterns, if not as easily,” Banar said. “To Runics, that meant that the brain could somehow sense when a pattern was being thrown outward. Ancient Runics discovered that runes made of a certain mineral generated a magical current when exposed to a pattern woven in the same shape. So if a rune made of this mineral was in the shape of the light pattern, and a Weaver wove the light pattern, magic – an admittedly small amount – would flow through the rune.”
“Sensory runes,” Kyle stated, suddenly understanding. Kalibar had taught Kyle about effector and sensory runes at Crescent Lake. Sensory runes sensed magic, while effector runes generated a magical pattern in response to a sensed pattern. Kalibar's staff could sense an enemy using the fire pattern, and automatically create a blast of wind to counteract it, for example.
“Exactly!” Master Banar exclaimed, clearly pleased. “Now, if you attach a sensory rune to another rune – a rune that weaves the light pattern, for example – activating the sensory rune will send magic into the light rune, and it'll glow. That's how Grand Weaver Kalibar's glasses work.”
“Got it,” Kyle replied.
“We call that rune-linking,” Banar explained. “That's when you attach a sensory rune to an effector rune...a rune that does something.”
“So if I weave a pattern, the sensory rune makes a little magic, and that flows across a crystal wire to the effector rune, which weaves another pattern,” Kyle deduced.
“Correct,” Banar confirmed. He finished his bread, taking Kyle's half-finished loaf and placing it back within the sack it came from. Then he placed the sack back in his pack. “I need a change of scenery,” he proclaimed suddenly. “How about we get back to flying?”
Banar activated his gravity boots, levitating a few inches above the ground. Kyle did the same, eager to finish learning how to fly. He couldn't help but grin like a fool...it was pretty cool, being able to levitate with a whim. Runic items were awesome, that was for sure. The idea that he would be able to build his own inventions – limited only by the power of his imagination – was starting to sound even better than being a Weaver. Imagine going back to Earth, and building magical boots for his parents! Or watching as Big Joe, the infamous bully at school, had his big meaty fists bounce off of Kyle's magical shields? Kyle could even sell his inventions, and become a millionaire! Heck, he could become a billionaire...and then he could have a massive mansion just like Kalibar, with plenty of rooms for his family and friends. He would never be able to do that as a Weaver, but as a Runic, his inventions could make him rich...and benefit mankind, of course.
“Let's go,” Banar urged, rising upward and forward. Kyle followed suit, finding it easier to match his teacher's trajectory now that he'd had some practice. It wasn't long before they were both levitating slowly forward a dozen feet above the campus. Kyle marveled at how quickly he'd gotten used to being so high up; not even an hour ago, he'd been nervous about floating a foot or two above the ground.
“One more bit of theory,” Master Banar stated as they flew side-by-side. “Pure crystals can hold more magic than plain old rocks, probably because of their perfect geometry. Rocks can still hold magic, but not nearly as much as a diamond, for example. That's why crystals are so valuable – and expensive. That and the girls think they look pretty,” he added with a grin. Kyle smiled back; crystals did look pretty, as long as they were attached to a girl.
“Now,” Master Banar continued, “...if you take any old rock or crystal from the ground, you'll find that the ones nearest the surface are almost completely filled with magic. Can you think of why?”
Kyle frowned, mulling it over. If rocks on the surface had more magic, that had to mean that they were exposed to magic from another source...something that leaked magic from nearby.
“From people?” he asked.
“You're on the right track,
” Banar replied. “It's actually magic-radiating plants that feed the minerals,” he added. “Animals do too, but plants make up the vast majority of magical life. Just look around you...what do you see?” Kyle did so, glancing around himself. Other than the road, and a few mountains far in the distance, the landscape was covered in nothing but grass, shrubs, and trees.
“Makes sense,” Kyle remarked.
“So in nature,” Master Banar continued, “...most minerals are filled to the brim with magic. Now, there are some plants that extract magic from crystals, just like humans can. The Ancients believed that these plants – and human brains – had tiny crystals within their flesh, crystals that had a higher magic vacuity than anything around them.”
“Magic what?” Kyle asked with a frown. Master Banar smiled.
“Magic vacuity,” he repeated. “Think of it as how much a crystal 'wants' magic. Crystals that store lots of magic – like diamonds – have high magic vacuity...they suck magic into themselves very strongly.”
“Okay.”
“So what would happen if you took a rock that was filled with magic, and put it next to a diamond that had no magic?”
Kyle frowned again, knitting his eyebrows together.
“You'd find magic streaming from the rock to the diamond...until the diamond had sucked almost all of the magic out of the rock.”
“Oh.”
“A mineral without much magic in it creates a vacuum of sorts, pulling any magic available into it. We call that magic vacuum 'magic vacuity.'”
“I think I get it,” Kyle stated.
“So what would happen if you did the opposite?” Banar pressed. “What if you put a magic-filled diamond next to a depleted rock?”
“Well,” Kyle replied, “...wouldn't the empty rock pull magic out of the full diamond?”
“A little bit, sure,” Master Banar admitted. “But the diamond has a much higher magic vacuity than the rock,” he explained. “The diamond wants magic more. If their vacuities were identical, like if you had two diamonds, the empty diamond would suck magic into it until they both were filled half-and-half. The reality is, magic streams to-and-fro from crystals all the time, in both directions. But crystals with extraordinarily high magic vacuities essentially stream magic away from everything else. When you begin to fill a gem, however, the vacuum lessens, until it stops completely when you've saturated it.”
“So empty crystals act like magic-suckers,” Kyle deduced.
“Exactly!” Banar exclaimed. “You're a natural, aren't you? In fact, the Ancients believed that the only reason people could suck magic out of any known crystal was because they must have crystals with extraordinarily high magic vacuity in their own minds. In fact, one of the most famous Runics of all time was the foremost researcher on that very subject.”
“Ampir?” Kyle asked. The Ancient Battle-Runic had been the best of his generation, and had been widely considered to be the most powerful Runic who'd ever lived. But Master Banar shook his head.
“No,” he replied. “It was actually a contemporary of Ampir's, a Runic named Sabin.” Kyle frowned.
“Wasn't Sabin the guy who created the Behemoths and destroyed the Ancient Empire?” he pressed. Master Banar nodded.
“Unfortunately so,” he confirmed. “But the man was a genius in his own right, and his work on finding what he called the 'void mineral'...the crystal with the highest magic acuity, one that could drain any other substance of its magic...was extraordinary.”
“Did he ever find it?”
“No,” Master Banar admitted. “Perhaps if he hadn't been so ambitious with his other pursuits, he would have had enough time to finish his work. Unfortunately, the vast majority of written works from that time were destroyed. We only have bits and pieces of what remain.” He sighed then, much as Kalibar had done when he'd contemplated the tragedy of the Ancients. Then he glanced at Kyle, giving him a rueful smile. “Is your brain full yet?”
“Kind of,” Kyle admitted.
“Well then, enough talking,” Banar decided. He sped up suddenly, shooting ahead of Kyle. He spun around as he did so, facing Kyle as he went. “Come on, I'll race you to that hill!”
Chapter 8
Kalibar paced back and forth down the length of his enormous suite, his bare feet making little noise on the magically warmed granite. He looked up, seeing Jenkins, his loyal butler, trying not to stare back at him. Kalibar was wearing the special eyepatches Erasmus had crafted for him; no doubt Jenkins was clearly unnerved by the “illusion” of his Grand Weaver staring right at him. The man had arrived moments ago to bring Kalibar his lunch, which sat steaming upon a silver tray that Jenkins held before him.
“Not now, Jenkins,” Kalibar stated, waving the tray away. Jenkins bowed.
“Would you like me to leave the tray, sire?” he inquired.
“Yes,” Kalibar answered. “...and thank you, Jenkins,” he added. His tone had been abrupt earlier; Jenkins was not the source of his frustration, and he hardly wanted to sour his relationship with the man over a misconception. Jenkins was, after all, the finest butler he'd ever had. The man had been instrumental in smoothing out the wrinkles in Kalibar's minute-to-minute existence, ensuring that Kalibar had whatever he needed...often before he realized he needed it. Such devotion to one's work was a rare quality indeed, in any walk of life. Kalibar knew that his position gave him an extraordinary power over Jenkins. He was responsible not only for his butler's employment, but for his very self-worth. A Grand Weaver's praise was as valuable to Jenkins' disposition as was his salary, and by recognizing his accomplishments, he could vastly improve Jenkins' satisfaction with his work. It was a responsibility Kalibar had seen far too many men in positions of power ignore, or worse, abuse.
Kalibar watched as the devoted butler set the tray down on a nearby table, along with a tall glass of water.
“Jenkins, what's your salary?” Kalibar inquired. The butler froze, then glanced up at Kalibar.
“Twenty-six thousand per year, your excellency,” Jenkins answered, stepping back from the table. Kalibar frowned, taken aback. He'd thought that Jenkins would have been granted a more robust salary after his recent promotion; twenty thousand was barely three times the poverty level...enough to live a moderately comfortable middle-class lifestyle, as long as the man had no children.
“Do you have children?” he pressed. Jenkins smiled, his eyes lighting up.
“Yes sire, two girls and a boy,” he answered proudly. Kalibar shook his head.
“Jenkins, you're far too good at what you do to make that little,” he replied firmly. “Money should not worry a man of your excellent qualities. I'm doubling your salary effective immediately.”
“I appreciate your generosity, your excellency, but I can't...” Jenkins protested. Kalibar raised one hand.
“No buts,” he interjected. “You must be paid in proportion to your worth. I don't know what I'd do without you,” he added with a smile. Jenkins smiled back, bowing once more.
“Thank you, sire,” he replied. “And thank you again for my promotion,” he added gratefully. Then he blinked, realizing that he was still carrying Kalibar's tray. He set it down on an end-table, then bowed to Kalibar once again. “Is there anything else you require?”
“No, thank you, Jenkins,” Kalibar replied. Jenkins nodded, then turned about, leaving the room as quickly as he'd come. Kalibar watched the butler go, then sighed. He resumed his pacing, leaving the steaming tray on the end-table. The meal was almost certainly delicious – Jenkins and his assistant Greg had grilled Kalibar extensively on his food preferences, and had never failed to deliver a culinary masterpiece with every meal – but Kalibar was too distracted to enjoy even the tastiest of delicacies. No one had yet been implicated in the prison break earlier that morning. Even so, he had a good idea of who was ultimately responsible.
He stopped his pacing, closing his eyes.
The children from the Arena had been there, of course. And Kalibar's guards had ju
st informed him that they too had vanished from the prison. While the children might not have had any useful information about Xanos or the Chosen, now the Empire would never know. And worse yet, the Council would be outraged at the loss. Even with a narrow advantage over Goran in the Council, their meetings had become increasingly difficult. If Kalibar and Erasmus lost just one of the Councilmen's support, they would lose their majority, and be rendered effectively powerless.
And that, he knew, would force them to invoke the Right of Dictatorship.
He sighed in frustration, resuming his pacing. The nerve of the enemy, to walk right into Stridon and completely nullify any benefit his raid of the Arena had conferred! It was a show of strength as much as anything else, he knew. Xanos was sending them a message, telling them that even their victories were ultimately futile.
Kalibar stopped pacing, walking toward one end of the spacious room. The walls and ceiling were made of huge sheets of magically-reinforced glass – glass that acted as a one-way mirror, allowing Kalibar to see out, but no one to see in. To people on the outside, his room was a giant crystalline pyramid, sparkling like a gem in the sunlight. He had, as a result, a breathtaking view of the southern half of the city. He walked to the transparent wall, placing both palms on the smooth, cool glass, staring down at the city below. From here, he could see the commercial district, hundreds of squat, rectangular buildings flanking the winding city streets. Innumerable blue and red squares littered the streets and flat roofs of the buildings, landing zones for citizens wearing jumpsuits, allowing anyone to leap from rooftop to rooftop, or rooftop to street. It was possible for a man to traverse the entire city without touching the ground, and the fact that rooftops were usable space for pedestrians had made Stridon different than any other city in the Empire. Rooftops had gardens, pools, and sometimes even storefronts for various peddlers. Every inch of the city was usable space, all because of recent advances in runic technology. Kalibar could only imagine what the city must have looked like in Ancient times, over two thousand years ago. Their runic technology had been far more advanced, with flying vehicles, weapons that shot deadly beams of energy, and even entire buildings that levitated high above the ground.