by Clayton Wood
Then the shard's light went out.
Ampir took another step forward, bringing his hands to the sides of his head, his gauntleted fingers resting on the sides of his visor. The visor was held in place by a black metal band encircling the back of Ampir's head; when his fingers touched the band, it flashed bright blue, then vanished.
“Don't bother,” Ampir said, stopping some twenty feet from the Dead Man. The Dead Man reached up to touch the gem in his forehead with one hand, his eyes widening.
“How are you doing this?” he asked, his voice filled with awe. “Who are you?”
Ampir didn't answer, instead grasping his visor with both hands, then slowly pulling it away from his face. Kyle stepped forward to get a better look, then stopped in his tracks. Ampir removed his visor, turning his head to face Kyle.
Kyle froze.
A pair of blue eyes stared into his, so startlingly blue that they seemed almost to be glowing. They were framed by well-tanned skin, a face both handsome and ageless.
And unmistakably familiar.
“Darius!” Kyle gasped, his legs giving out underneath him. He slumped to the ground, landing on his butt on the hard rock below. He didn't even feel the pain of the impact, his whole body numb with shock. It was Darius, back from the dead...but why was he wearing Ampir's armor?
“You!” the Dead Man exclaimed, staring in shock at Darius. “I thought I killed you!”
“Ditto,” Darius shot back. “Nice talk, by the way. Very touching.” He put one arm under Kyle's armpit, pulling Kyle up from the ground. “Almost made me think twice about killing you,” Darius added. He smirked then. “Almost.”
The Dead Man stared at Darius, then glanced back at the crimson stain on the ground, left by the Behemoth's massive foot. Darius followed his gaze.
“One of your Dead Weavers,” Darius explained. The Dead Man turned back to face Darius, his jawline rippling.
“I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish by releasing so much magic from your armor,” he stated, his tone ice-cold. “But I assure you it pales in comparison to the power of Xanos's creations.” Kyle heard the Behemoth stir behind them, and spun around, watching as its green eye moved to focus on them. The eye began to glow brightly, nearly blinding in its intensity. Kyle cried out, ducking down low and covering his face with one arm, feeling the air around him heat up, his skin beginning to burn.
Then the air around the Behemoth's head rippled.
A perfect line split the Behemoth's head, running diagonally from one end to the other, bisecting its diamond-shaped eye. Then the upper dome pulled away, vanishing into thin air. Half of its head remained, green crystal glinting in the cross-section that was revealed.
The Behemoth's head tipped backward, bringing its body with it, sending it into a slow fall. It struck the ground with a deafening boom, sending a plume of dust into the air. Its upper body smashed into the trees at the edge of the forest, snapping the thick trunks like so many twigs under its incredible weight.
Darius, his eyes having never moved from the Dead Man's, shook his head.
“If you want to kill someone without scaring the crap out of them, try not telling them first,” he offered. Kyle heard a low whistling sound coming from above, almost imperceptible at first, then getting louder and louder. Darius smirked. “Like this.”
A shockwave struck Kyle, a cloud of dust slamming into him, thrusting him backward. If it hadn't been for Darius's arm about his shoulders, he would have been knocked clear off of his feet. The dust cloud shot upward in front of Kyle and Darius, rising dozens of feet into the sky. Small pebbles fell toward them from above, clattering on the ground around them. Kyle shielded his eyes with one forearm, protecting them from the flying dust. Then he realized that none of it was reaching him, a gravity shield having appeared around him. He lowered his arm, watching as the dust cleared slowly, until he realized that he was looking at something huge and black embedded into the ground. He stepped backward, feeling Darius's arm slip from his shoulders as he did so. A breeze blew the remainder of the dust cloud away, and Kyle realized what he was looking at...the top half of the Behemoth's head, having fallen through the sky, slamming into the rocky terrain.
Right where the Dead Man had been standing.
Kyle turned to the fallen body of the Behemoth, having decimated a huge swath of trees in the distance. Then he turned back to stare at Darius.
The bodyguard stood there silently, calmly regarding Kyle. The air around the bodyguard's face wavered, the mirrored visor reappearing suddenly, hiding his eyes once again. He walked up to the fallen half of the Behemoth's head, grabbing the rim of the house-sized half-dome with one gauntleted hand and pulling it upward with frightening ease, peering at the crystalline innards.
“Interesting,” Darius stated, staring for a long moment, then letting go of the rim. The half-dome crashed downward, the ground it lay on sinking slightly under its countless tons of weight. Kyle stared at Darius, then back at the Behemoth's head, his jaw slack. Darius ignored Kyle, turning to glance at the Behemoth's fallen body a few dozen feet away. Kyle followed the bodyguard's gaze, then turned back to Darius, finally finding his voice.
“How?” he asked, flabbergasted. Darius turned to regard Kyle.
“How what?”
“How are you still alive?” Kyle pressed. “And why are you wearing that armor? And how did...” he turned to the Behemoth's fallen body, gesturing limply. “How did you do that?”
“Magic,” Darius answered.
“I know that,” he replied impatiently. “I mean, how did you do it?”
“I dropped a head on him,” Darius replied, pointing to the Behemoth's severed skull. Kyle rolled his eyes.
“How did you do that?” he pressed.
“Magic,” Darius repeated.
“But how?” Kyle pleaded, now exasperated with the bodyguard. Then he paused, realizing that he'd somehow gone from missing the bodyguard terribly to almost wishing the man had been mashed into goo by the Behemoth...all in a few minutes. Kyle had to give the man credit; Darius certainly had a gift for making others wish he didn't exist.
“I'm Ampir,” Darius replied.
Kyle started to respond, then felt the breath stop in his throat. His mind blanked, and he stared at Darius in confusion.
“What?”
“I'm Ampir,” Darius repeated.
Kyle stared at Darius for a long moment. The bodyguard tolerated this for a short time, then turned away, walking toward the body of the fallen Behemoth. Kyle hesitated, then ran to catch up with Darius, following him as he circled around one of the monstrosity's massive feet.
“You're what?” Kyle pressed. Darius didn't slow down, striding past the fifty-foot-tall foot, forcing Kyle to jog to keep up. “No, seriously,” Kyle added. Darius stopped, turning to face Kyle. Kyle stared at his own face reflected in that visor.
You've shown me who you are.
The voice reverberated in Kyle's skull, instantly familiar, identical to what he'd heard only a few weeks prior, after jumping from the Tower to save Ariana.
Now I've shown you who I am.
Kyle stared at Ampir's visor, his mouth agape. He found himself speechless again, unable to process what he was hearing. How could Darius be Ampir? The bodyguard didn't make any magic! And he was just a bodyguard, after all...a good one, but nothing more.
Wait, he was a bodyguard...
Kyle felt a chill pass through him.
What if Darius was never Kalibar's bodyguard, but Kyle's?
Kyle stared at Darius, his mind working furiously. Darius had been with Kyle every step of his adventure, after all. And every time Kyle had been threatened, Darius had been the one to protect him. From the soldiers and the Death Weaver at Crescent Lake, from the Dire Lurker in the caves, even from the Dead Man...Darius had ultimately been the one to kill them all.
Even Xanos.
Kyle stared at Darius mutely, taking a step backward.
When that man attacked Kyle
during the carriage ride to Stridon...Darius had been there to protect Kyle, not Kalibar. It had been Darius, after all, that had killed the leader of the Death Weavers during that attack, beheading him and displaying that gruesome trophy to the survivors, causing one of them to betray Orik. Kyle could picture that disembodied head – the first dead body he'd ever seen – with its vacant eyes, that disturbing hole in the center of its forehead...
A single hole in the forehead, just large enough to fit a green crystal in...
Kyle took another step backward, feeling his legs wobble underneath him. He fell backward, landing on his bottom on the hard rock below.
How could he have missed that? How could Kalibar have missed that?
The answer, of course, was that Darius had been behind Kalibar when he'd displayed the head...Kalibar had never seen it. But Kyle had.
He licked his lips, clearing his throat noisily.
“Why?” was all he could muster.
Darius said nothing, stepping forward instead and offering one gauntleted hand. Kyle paused, then reached out slowly, grabbing onto the cool metal. Darius hauled Kyle to his feet in one smooth motion, then turned away, facing the Behemoth. He resumed his quick stride past the Behemoth's long leg, to the torso, and then past the arm and shoulder. Kyle followed along, walking until they'd turned the bend around that massive shoulder, walking toward the ruined head. When they reached the top of the head, they saw a gaping hole, big enough to fit a small house in, filled with green crystal. Kyle peered inside, absentmindedly creating a small light hovering in the air above, to better illuminate the innards. Darius stepped right up to the machinery, running a hand over the crystal.
“Interesting,” the bodyguard murmured. Then he stepped away from the head suddenly, striding back toward the half-dome that had buried the Dead Man. Kyle followed right behind the man, his mind racing. Darius had worked for Kalibar's mentor, and only switched to working for Kalibar after his former employer had died. But Darius – Ampir – must have planned to work with Kalibar all along, so that he could protect Kyle once Kyle was brought to this world. Did that mean Darius had arranged for his previous employer to die? Or had that been a coincidence?
Kyle picked up his pace, jogging behind Darius again as they made the long trip back to the Behemoth's severed head – and the Dead Man's final resting place.
Of course, Ampir had been the one to bring Kyle here in the first place, protecting him from the rip-vines, the killerpillar, and the Ulfar. Kyle felt an ache in his back where the Ulfar had attacked him, the wound still not completely healed. Kalibar had been confused by the fact that the sap of a balm-tree had been placed in Kyle's wound...that must have been Darius's doing as well.
They slowed down as they reached the Behemoth's severed cranium, Darius's visor vanishing into thin air, revealing his blue eyes, which inspected the large half-dome for a long moment. Then the bodyguard's eyes unfocused for a moment.
The head vanished.
A rush of wind struck Kyle from behind, so powerful that it thrust him forward into the vacuum created by the head's absence. Darius's black-clad arm shot in front of Kyle, preventing him from flying forward; the vacuum filled quickly, the violent wind reduced to a strong breeze within seconds. Kyle stared at Darius.
“What happened?” he asked. “Where did it go?”
“Storage,” Darius replied, lowering his arm. Kyle frowned, clearly quite confused. “All in good time,” Darius promised. Kyle paused, then turned to the Behemoth's massive body.
“What about...” he began, and then the massive body vanished.
Kyle felt himself lurch forward again, sucked into the vacuum left by the Behemoth's absence, but this time a shimmering blue half-sphere surrounded him – and Darius – instantly protecting them. The trees that had been near the Behemoth's fallen body flew forward violently, fifty-foot trunks ripping from the ground and flying past the tree line. A whirlwind of dust and rocks were sucked from where the Behemoth's body had laid on the open pit mine, mixing with the flying trees. The whirlwind dissipated rapidly, scattering rocks and trees across the landscape.
“Right,” Kyle mumbled. “Storage.” He stared at the huge impression the Behemoth had left in the rocky ground and the forest beyond, then turned back to Darius. “Where exactly is storage?” he asked. Then he turned about, realizing that Darius had vanished...the bodyguard was nowhere in sight! Kyle panicked, frantically searching the landscape for his friend. “Darius?” he called out.
“Same place we're going,” a voice replied from behind. Kyle jumped, spinning around and seeing Darius behind him. He stared at the bodyguard, taking an involuntary step backward.
“Wait, how...?” he asked, but Darius cut him off with a gesture.
“We're going home,” Darius declared. His visor reappeared, the open pit mine reflecting off of that mirrored surface. Kyle's eyes brightened.
“Back to Stridon?” he asked. Then he felt a surge of hope. “...or Earth?” Darius shook his head.
“Nope,” he replied. “My home.”
Chapter 16
Ariana walked to the center of Kalibar's retirement suite, Master Owens at her side. The main room of the suite had been emptied of most of its couches and tables, leaving a large expanse of granite flooring. The numerous bedrooms – including Kyle's and Ariana's – had been left untouched, but the main room had been converted into a sparring chamber. Ariana had not been allowed to leave the suite after Kyle's disappearance; the necessity of her continued training had prompted the suite's conversion. It was an ideal location for sparring, actually. The room was quite large, with high ceiling tall ceilings, and the walls and windows were protected by powerful runic wards.
Master Owens stopped Ariana, turning to her and taking a step backward. He was dressed, as per his usual, in a simple black robe. Ariana had spent the better part of the day practicing her gravity spheres and punk generation, in anticipation for her next sparring match. She'd never considered herself a very competitive person...that is, until she'd had her first sparring match. She'd never gotten to an advanced enough level to spar while in the Arena, but after her first sparring match here – which she'd won handily – she'd found her competitive juices flowing with surprising abundance. She'd won a string of victories against subsequent opponents, and was determined to win any future matches against her fellow students.
“Now,” Master Owens stated, putting a hand on Ariana's shoulder. “This next sparring match will be a bit different than the others. First, its confined to this room, limiting our mobility compared to the campus lawn.”
Ariana nodded, feeling familiar butterflies flit around in her stomach. She always got them before a match, and hated the feeling every time. She found herself bouncing on her tiptoes, and forced herself to stand still.
“Second, we're only to use four patterns,” Owens continued. “Water, gravity, fire, and punk. No other patterns are acceptable.”
“Got it,” Ariana replied. That left out the light pattern...no blinding her opponent, then. That certainly didn't bother her; as long as she got to use gravity fields, she would be okay.
“Lastly,” Master Owens stated, “...victory is determined by subduing an opponent long enough for a mortal blow to be issued...but as usual, please don't kill your opponent.” Then Master Owens gave a slight smile. “Not that I'm concerned about that in this case,” he added.
“I'm ready,” Ariana stated, finding herself bouncing on her toes again. This time, she didn't bother holding herself back. “Where's my opponent?” she added, glancing about the room.
“Your opponent,” Master Owens replied, “...is me.”
Ariana stopped cold, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
“What?” she blurted out. Master Owens was a teacher now, having retired years ago. But in his prime, he'd been a master-level Battle-Weaver, fighting in the same wars that had made Kalibar a hero. And while Owens would not be able to stand toe-to-toe with Kalibar and have any hope
of winning, he was still one of the finest Weavers alive.
And, Ariana knew, Master Owens taught the most advanced Battle-Weaver classes the Secula Magna offered, personally sparring – and almost always soundly beating – the best Battle-Weavers every day. He'd taught almost all of the active Battle-Weavers in the Empire, and knew every one of them by name. It was a gift that Owens had agreed to teach Ariana and Kyle at all...a favor for Kalibar, no doubt. That was why Ariana – a future Battle-Weaver student, if she did well – was so keen on impressing the man.
“Don't worry,” Owens reassured her, his voice gentle. “I'm certainly not going to hurt you, as long as you agree to do the same.”
“Of course,” Ariana stammered. “Sorry, I just didn't expect...”
“No pressure, Ariana,” Master Owens interjected gently. “This is a learning exercise, not a test.”
“Okay,” Ariana replied, only slightly relieved. Master Owens took a few steps backward, gesturing for Ariana to do the same. After they'd put about twenty feet between them, Master Owens gestured for her to stop.
“Remember, we'll both be using only the four patterns,” he stated. “The match will be decided on how well we can use those patterns.” Ariana nodded, feeling almost sick to her stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in to center herself. Then she let it go slowly, opening her eyes.
“Ready?” Owens asked.
“Ready.”
Almost instantaneously, a ball of punk appeared in front of Master Owens, bursting into flames, then shooting outward with unnerving speed...right toward her! Ariana reacted instinctively, activating her gravity shield – which promptly vanished. She leaped to the side frantically, the projectile missing her shoulder by mere inches. She stumbled, catching her balance after a few seconds. Master Owens had attacked so quickly...and had abolished her gravity shield with a reverse-polarity field of his own. Ariana was immediately grateful that she'd kept on her toes before the match; if she'd been caught flat-footed, that would have been the end of it.