by Clayton Wood
Yet he was so inexplicably human...indistinguishable from any other boy, save for the enormous amount of magic he generated. And Kyle had somehow recognized horses, which were also apparently on his planet...Urth, he'd called it. None of it made much sense.
Kalibar shook his head; he was woolgathering again. But why not? He laid down on his bed, still fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling. The real question was how Kyle had gotten here. Of course, the fact that Kyle's ring was a powerful transmitter was an obvious clue. If the signal were capable of traveling far enough, it could conceivably reach from one planet to another. The ring, then, might allow someone to determine its precise location from an enormous distance.
Kalibar closed his eyes, thinking back to what Kyle had said about his dreams. He'd only been half-listening at the time, what with his numerous head injuries, his blindness, and the threat of Orik's plot to overthrow the Empire hanging over him. Now he wished he'd been paying closer attention. The dreams had all been of Ampir, his wife, and his son. Of them experiencing the final hours of the Ancient war that had destroyed the Empire. Ampir had taken his family to a chamber, and had supposedly created a portal to another world, teleporting his son to safety, right before a giant magic death-machine had stomped the life out of him.
But before that, he'd given the child a ring...
According to Kyle, it had been Ampir's ring. And Erasmus had confirmed that Kyle's ring was indeed of Ancient origin. Which meant that Ampir's son had traveled to Urth, and somehow, over the next two thousand years, it had gotten into Kyle's hands. It was extraordinarily unlikely that Kyle had any blood relation to Ampir's son...after all, a lot could happen in two thousand years. The ring must have changed ownership countless times through the hundred or so generations that had passed. So why would anyone want to bring Kyle – a complete stranger – to this world? And why the dreams?
Kalibar frowned, stiffening suddenly.
The dreams! He sat up suddenly, slamming his fist into one palm. Then he got up from the bed and began to pace. The dreams...how could he have overlooked that? They were, without a doubt, Ampir's memories. Kalibar had assumed they'd been stored in the ring, and somehow Kyle had triggered their release. But if the ring was just a transmitter, then where had the memories come from?
Kalibar stopped, running a hand through his short, white hair. Then he looked down, staring at the tips of his boots. They were black, with numerous crystals embedded in the surface. Blue wisps of magic glowed faintly from each crystal. What an incredibly simple but powerful gift, to see so precisely what others could only feel vaguely. Sensing magic the traditional way – feeling the patterns with one's mind – was difficult and slow, requiring years of practice. If he'd had the ability to visualize the patterns as a child, to see magic streaming to these patterns in real time, he would have become a prodigy. Magic would have been so easy and intuitive, he would have become the most gifted Weaver in history...perhaps the greatest wielder of magic who'd ever lived. Like...
He felt goosebumps raised up on his arms, and a chill run down his spine. He closed his eyes, remembering the voice that had reverberated in his mind mere hours ago.
You wanted to meet me.
Kalibar felt his heart pound in his chest, and he stared off into the distance, at nothing at all.
And now you have.
“Dear god,” he whispered.
It came to him then. He'd been at Crescent Lake with Kyle, talking about Kyle's dreams. He remembered staring at the waterfall in the distance, watching the countless droplets glitter in the morning sunlight. They'd been talking about Kyle's dreams.
What I wouldn't give to meet the man, he'd said.
Kalibar brought his trembling fingers to his eyelids, closing his eyes and passing his fingertips over them. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest.
Of course!
“Dear god,” he repeated, another chill running through him. He sat down on his bed, resting his palms on his knees. It was so obvious now! How hadn't he figured it out earlier? But no, it was impossible...the man had died over two thousand years ago. Or had he? If he'd somehow managed to survive all these years...
Kalibar stared at the communication half-orb sitting on the end-table, the one he'd used to summon the guard previously. Runes shone on its surface, dozens of glowing blue patterns that only he could see.
Someone had been able to see magic like this, long ago. And they'd become the most powerful wielder of magic of all time. The most powerful Battle-Runic of all time.
It had to be Ampir!
Kalibar put a hand to his face again, running his fingers over his eyelids, feeling the swell of his eyeballs underneath. He lowered his hand, opening his eyes.
Of course Ampir wouldn't know any other way of seeing. It was all he knew, this amazing sight...and now he'd given Kalibar the gift of his perspective. Which meant, of course, that the man he'd met...that unthinkable wellspring of power...
But he died, Kalibar told himself, shaking his head slowly. Even in Kyle's last dream, Ampir had died...
But he knew it wasn't true. It could be no one else. And only a man as brilliant as Ampir could have found a way to fend off the greatest enemy of mankind...death.
You wanted to meet me.
Kalibar laughed suddenly. He'd wanted to meet Ampir, that much was true. And for some unknown reason, through some impossible stroke of luck, the most powerful Runic ever known had come to him, giving him back his sight.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Kalibar flinched, then got up from his bed, striding into the main suite and peering to see who was behind the door. To his surprise, it was Master Owens, followed by a shaken-appearing Erasmus. Master Owens – usually preternaturally calm – looked uncharacteristically distraught, his face pale and drawn. Kalibar grabbed his eyepatches from his breast pocket, putting them on. Then he rushed to let the two men in.
“What's wrong, gentlemen?” he asked. Neither Erasmus or Master Owens said anything, but Owens shook his head, his lower lip quivering slightly.
He looked terrified.
Kalibar felt his guts twist, knowing that the fact that Owens himself had come to bring him news meant that it had to be about one of two people. And judging by the look on Owens' face...
“What is it?” he demanded, grabbing the man by the shoulders, struggling to stay calm.
“It's Master Banar,” Master Owens replied, his voice quivering. “Kyle went to train with him this morning.”
“And?” Kalibar pressed, his toner harsher than he'd planned. Owens paled, and Erasmus stepped in, putting a hand on Kalibar's shoulder.
“Master Owens found Master Banar a half-mile from the Tower,” Erasmus interjected. Then he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Banar is dead.”
“What?” Kalibar exclaimed. “How?”
“Murdered,” Master Owens replied. “Impaled through the back of the head by the looks of it.”
“And Kyle?” Kalibar pressed, dread coming over him. Master Owens shook his head mutely. Kalibar swallowed in a dry throat. “Is he...?”
“Missing,” Owens replied.
“Damn it!” Kalibar swore. He turned from Erasmus and Master Owens, clenching and unclenching his fists.
They've taken my son!
He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly numb. The cold, calculating part of him examined the possibilities, and came up with only two. They've taken him, or killed him, he deduced. A vision of Kyle lying on the ground, eyes staring lifelessly upward, appeared in his mind's eye. He shook his head to clear it of that horrid image, opening his eyes. Master Owens and Erasmus were both staring at him. He turned away, unable to face them.
I was supposed to protect him, he thought, a familiar shame creeping over him. I was supposed to protect my son, and I failed.
Again.
Kalibar felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, and he turned to see Erasmus standing there. His old friend was one of the only people who knew about Kalibar's long-dead son. One of the few who u
nderstood what Kyle had really meant to him.
“We'll get him back,” Erasmus promised. “I've already mobilized the guards. Say the word, and a dozen Battle-Weavers will fly out to find him.”
Kalibar nodded mutely, knowing that if he spoke now, his voice would crack. He had the sudden, desperate urge to fly out of the Tower, to scour the Empire for Kyle himself. But he knew that he could not. He was Grand Weaver now...the entire Empire was his to protect. He could not endanger the lives of millions to save one, no matter how precious that one life might be.
But that was exactly what Ampir had done.
Kalibar turned back to Master Owens; the Weaver was still staring at the floor, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. Kalibar sighed, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.
“Send Battle Weavers to find him,” he ordered. Master Owens nodded silently. Then Kalibar paused, a chill running down his spine. “Where's Ariana?”
“I sent her to her room in your retirement suite,” Owens answered. “Erasmus took the liberty of asking a few Battle-Weavers to guard her until more formal arrangements could be made.”
“Thank you,” Kalibar replied, relieved. “Thank you both. If you could double the wards in her room,” he added, glancing at Erasmus.
“Consider it done,” Erasmus replied. Kalibar gave his old friend a weak smile, then walked over to the communication orb and activated it. At the same time, he turned back to Master Owens.
“No more outdoor lessons,” he stated firmly. “Teach Ariana in her room.” Master Owens nodded silently. He stared at Kalibar for a long moment, fidgeting restlessly. Kalibar frowned. “What is it?” he asked.
“We...” Master Owens answered, “...Ariana and I were only a mile away...we'd talked with them minutes before it happened.” He lowered his gaze to the floor, shaking his head slowly. “I'm sorry, Kalibar.” Kalibar put a hand on Owen's shoulder.
“It's not your fault,” he replied. Master Owens nodded, but he did not look convinced. Kalibar sighed. “I can only hope Kyle's Aegis will protect him.”
Owens swallowed visibly.
“He wasn't wearing the Aegis,” the Weaver murmured, refusing to look up from the floor. Kalibar paused, a chill running through him. He felt suddenly as if the world were crumbling around him, and struggled to maintain his composure.
“I see,” was all he could manage. He felt a sudden anger building within him, and tried to suppress it, without success.
Not wearing his armor!
He turned away from Master Owens, feeling the anger growing, turning into a cold fury. He grit his teeth, wondering how Kyle could possibly have forgotten to wear his armor, the Aegis of Athanasia, a breastplate so powerful that it would have made him nearly invincible. Perhaps not to Xanos, but still...
Not wearing his armor!
He closed his eyes, then turned back to Master Owens, using every ounce of self-control he had to stop himself from screaming.
“Explain how this happened,” he ordered, his voice icy calm. He saw the blood drain from Master Owens' face, saw the man's hands trembling slightly at his sides. Owens opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Kalibar stared at the man for a long moment, watching him struggle. “Name the guard who woke Kyle this morning,” he commanded.
“Kalibar,” Erasmus replied, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. “One of Jenkins' butlers woke Kyle this morning, and got him ready.”
“What? Who?” Kalibar asked. Then he waved the question away. “I specifically stated that an elite guard was to accompany Kyle to and from the Tower,” he growled, pulling backward so that Erasmus's hand fell from his shoulder. He clenched his fists, turning back to Master Owens. “Is a butler an elite guard?” he asked, his tone ice cold. Master Owens shook his head mutely.
“No sire,” he mumbled.
“Damn it!” Kalibar shouted. A burst of magical patterns shot forth unbidden from his mind, and the glass table to his left exploded, shards of glass and metal flying across the room in all directions. He stared at Owens, spotting the gravity shield springing up around the Weaver, and felt a sudden desire to lash out at the man. Owens was a master-level Battle-Weaver, considered among the finest alive. But Kalibar was better – far better – and he had the sudden, mad desire to hurt Owens. To unleash his power, to show people what happened when they invited his rage.
Not wearing his armor!
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and turned, seeing Erasmus still there at his side. The Runic's blue eyes were gentle, his expression sad.
“Don't,” he mouthed.
Kalibar paused, staring into his best friend's eyes, the rage draining from him. A part of him regretted its leaving, wanted to hold on to that anger, to sate its blood-lust. To feel the pleasure of giving in to it. But he nodded, knowing that Erasmus was right. He took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly, turning to Owens. He felt a sudden shame, knowing that Owens hadn't been responsible for Kyle not having his armor, and that he'd lashed out at the poor man – already wracked with grief over Banar's death and Kyle's absence – without provocation. Kalibar had not lost his temper in years; being possessed of enormous and deadly power had a way of instilling patience, out of necessity. At least in the just.
“I'm sorry,” Kalibar apologized, putting a hand on Owens' shoulder. “You didn't deserve that. I hope you can forgive my temper.” Master Owens glanced up at Kalibar, a weak smile on his lips.
“I'd forgotten you had one,” he replied. Kalibar had to smile at that; Owens had served in the military with Kalibar, and had witnessed Kalibar losing his temper – to sobering effect – on the battlefield more than once.
“Yes, well, I'll save it for my enemies,” Kalibar countered. “Not for you, old friend.”
“You love your son,” Owens stated with a shrug. And that, Kalibar knew, was true. Despite only having known Kyle for a few weeks, he'd grown terribly fond of the boy, a testament to the strange power that love could wield.
“Speaking of Kyle,” Erasmus interjected, “Master Owens was just telling me that Kyle had told them of an idea he'd come up with, something that Master Banar had gotten very excited about.” Kalibar frowned, only half-listening. Despite having regained his composure, his anger had not completely left him. He would have to have a conversation with that butler – and the elite guard who'd been scheduled to escort Kyle – to get to the bottom of their failure to protect his son.
“What was it?” he asked absently.
“Kyle had come up with an idea for finding new magical patterns,” Owens answered. “He asked why we didn't just put random sensory runes into a crystal, then place magical plants or animals nearby, and see which runes lit up.”
“What?” Kalibar asked. Owens repeated what he'd said, and this time Kalibar paid attention, frowning slightly. “Interesting idea,” he murmured, turning to Erasmus. “What do you think?”
The Grand Runic frowned, running a hand through his thick white beard. Then he shook his head. “Not very practical,” he opined. “Don't get me wrong...it would probably work, but it'd be a damn slow process,” he added. “Probably take years just to stumble upon one pattern.”
“That's what Banar and I said,” Owens agreed. “But then Kyle said something...something about using parts of runes instead.”
“Yes, well,” Kalibar muttered. “...I don't have time for this right now. We need to find Kyle.”
Erasmus put a hand on Kalibar's shoulder.
“I'll get my Runics involved,” he promised. Then he turned to Owens, nodding at the man. They both left Kalibar then, closing the door behind them. Kalibar watched them go, then stood there in the empty room, the most powerful man in the most powerful Empire in the world, feeling anything but.
Kyle isn't wearing his ring, he brooded. He dismissed the thought almost immediately. It didn't matter, of course...the ring was useless. Unless of course...
Kalibar frowned. Unless of course Ampir – or whoever it was that was protecti
ng the boy – needed the ring's transmitter to find him.
He walked across the massive suite, to the thick glass wall at one end of the room. He gazed out over the city, past the expanse of lawn, past the countless buildings in the distance, past the massive bridge crossing the Great River.
Then a thought occurred to him; Darius had gone looking for Kyle earlier that morning! Kalibar spun around, sprinting up to the communication globe, signaling the head of the elite guards. He resuming pacing, intermittently glancing at the front door to his suite, waiting impatiently. If Darius had gotten to Kyle in time...
A man appeared in front of the door – one of the elite guards. Kalibar made his door translucent for the guard, watching as the man's eyes focusing on him.
“Your Excellency,” the guard greeted.
“I want Darius found,” Kalibar ordered. “He left to find my son a few hours ago, when he was with Master Banar.” The guard's eyes widened at that. News traveled quickly in the Tower; no doubt everyone knew of the Runic's fate. The guard bowed crisply.
“Yes Grand Weaver.”
“And...” Kalibar added, willing his voice to remain calm. “...get me the guard that was supposed to wake Kyle this morning.”
“Yes, sire.”
Kalibar dismissed the man with a wave of his hand, and the guard went immediately to his task. Kalibar turned away from the door, running a hand through his hair. He began pacing yet again, considering the possibilities. If Darius had gotten to Kyle before Master Banar was attacked, then there was hope for Kyle. Then again, despite the bodyguard's skill, he wouldn't stand a chance against a group of Weavers. But if Darius hadn't gotten there in time, he would have found Master Banar's corpse himself, and one would hope that the bodyguard – unpredictable as he was – would have returned to notify Kalibar before running off to find Kyle.
Kalibar sighed, feeling the weight of his son's fate on his shoulders. It felt every bit as heavy as that of the Empire he'd sworn to protect.
Not wearing his armor!
Kalibar grit his teeth, feeling the enormity of his failure. He'd vowed to protect Kyle at any cost, to do for the boy what he'd failed to do for his own son, so many decades ago. Now the boy was gone, kidnapped or worse, and he had no idea where Kyle was...or if he was even still alive.