by Clayton Wood
A second ball of punk appeared in front of Owens, bursting into flames and shooting toward Ariana. This time, she kept her wits about her, weaving the gravity pattern reflexively, creating a powerful pulling sphere in front of her and to the right. The projectile fell under the gravitational field's sway, arcing rightward mere feet from where Ariana stood. She poured as much magic into her magic stream as she could then, multiplying the gravitational pull of her sphere. The flaming punk tightened its arc around the sphere, swinging around and reversing direction rapidly. Ariana waited for the exact right time, then cut off the magic stream, abolishing the gravity sphere. The punk flew away from her with enormous speed – and right toward Master Owens.
It passed over his left shoulder harmlessly.
“Ambitious,” he noted approvingly. Ariana said nothing, conjuring up her own hovering ball of punk. She'd gotten faster at it since learning the sequence of patterns a few days ago. First the gravity sphere, then create the punk in the center of it. Then set it on fire. Lastly, create a second, much more powerful gravity sphere, but this time pushing outward instead of inward. The reverse-gravity field caused the punk to shoot outward. Aiming it depended on the proper placement and strength of the reverse-gravity field – and was extraordinarily difficult.
But she'd been practicing.
Ariana's punk shot forward, slower than Master Owen's had, but her aim was true. The burning projectile flew toward her instructor's head unerringly.
Suddenly, a ball of water appeared around the punk, snuffing the flames instantly. The doused projectile veered off to the left at the last minute, missing Owen's head by a few inches, then falling to the floor in a sticky wet mess.
He didn't so much as flinch.
Ariana didn't pause, creating a second ball of punk immediately after she'd sent out the first, setting this one on fire and sending it out again. This time, Master Owens stepped to the right as it approached, dodging out of the way. Ariana immediately created a gravity sphere to the right of the punk's path, sucking the fireball to the right...and right at Owens.
“Good!” Owens exclaimed, creating a gravity sphere of his own, pulling the projectile in a quick orbit and flinging it back at Ariana. His aim was perfect, the punk flying right at her. She dodged to the left, but not quickly enough. In a last-ditch effort, she created a gravity field a few feet to her left, so powerful that it sucked her violently into it...and out of the way of her own fireball.
Until the fireball arced right into the same gravity sphere...and into her.
Ariana cried out, throwing her arms in front of her face. The gravity sphere vanished, dropping her onto her left side on the unforgiving granite below. She grabbed at her own clothes, desperately trying to brush off the burning punk from her body. She screamed then, instantly transported back to that horrifying moment only days ago, when the Dead Man had tried to burn her alive. She felt the burning in her legs, smelling the smoke as her clothes burned, her flesh blackening, then cracking, fluid spilling out from the cracks and spitting and crackling in the fire...
“Ariana!”
She stopping flailing her arms, opening her eyes. Master Owens was rushing toward her, his face filled with concern. She blinked, then looked down at herself, realizing that the punk had never even hit her. There wasn't a single mark on her.
“Ariana, are you okay?” Owens asked, stopping at her side. Ariana felt the color rise in her cheeks, and turned away, mortified.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. Master Owens dropped to one knee before her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“What happened, Ariana?” he asked gently. “I've never seen you react that way,” he added. Ariana shook her head, fighting back sudden tears. She'd tried to forget that horrible moment – when she'd truly thought she was dying, burning alive at the hands of the man who'd burned her family – and her entire village – alive. She hadn't even thought about it until now, having buried the memory in the past with all of the other terrible things the Dead Man – and his Death Weavers – had done to her.
She hated that those memories could still make her cry...that the Dead Man could still have power over her, even after his demise.
It wasn't fair.
“Ariana?” Master Owens pressed. She sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, then looking up at the kindly instructor. She thought about deflecting the question, but something in Owen's eyes – his genuine concern – stopped her.
“I have a...problem with fire,” she admitted.
“I'm sorry,” Master Owens stated. “I didn't know...”
“It's okay,” she replied, standing up suddenly. Master Owens paused, then slowly got up to his own feet, his knees popping loudly. Ariana gave a weak smile. “I'll get over it,” she added.
And that much, she knew, was true. All she had to do was bury it deep enough, so that it couldn't hurt her anymore.
“Well,” Master Owens replied, returning Ariana's smile, “...you certainly did a good job today. You're ambitious, Ariana...that trick of yours, redirecting my own punk back at me...that's an advanced technique.”
“I missed,” Ariana countered. Still, she flushed with pride. She'd been practicing that ever since she'd thought of it, the day she'd been taught the gravity pattern.
“Not by much,” Owens said. “You've clearly been practicing on your own. And thinking – really thinking – about all of the possible uses of each pattern.” He smiled again, patting Ariana on the shoulder with one hand. “I'm proud of you.”
Ariana felt her cheeks burning, and she lowered her gaze. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
“Keep practicing,” Owens instructed. “And remember that gravity can work for you...and against you. Next time, keep your gravity shields up.”
“Yes sir.”
“I'd like to go another round,” Master Owens said. “...but I've got another class to teach.” He turned toward the entrance to the suite, walking to the front door and opening it. He turned around then, glancing back at Ariana. “And Ariana...”
“Yes?”
“If you ever want to talk,” he stated, “...about what happened...I'm here.”
* * *
Ariana threw herself onto her bed, pulling her sheet and blanket over her legs and up to her belly. She'd spent the better part of the evening after her sparring match taking a small coin and practicing the trick she'd tried on Master Owens earlier. She'd thrown the coin across the room with her left hand – her dominant hand – and then tried using a gravity sphere to sling it back toward her, catching it with her hand. She'd caught the coin with her face a few times as well; a poignant reminder to do as Owens had recommended, and keep her gravity shield up at all times.
She'd performed the exercise at least a hundred times, until she'd gotten so hungry that she'd summoned Jenkins. The butler had come almost immediately, bringing Ariana her favorite meal – roasted duck. She'd never even had the meal before coming to the Tower. The night after their battle with Xanos had been the first time she'd tasted it. It had been, for many reasons, the best meal she'd ever had. This time, however, it hadn't been the same. Then she'd had Kalibar, Darius, and Kyle with her, laughing and joking, enjoying each other’s company. Tonight, she'd eaten alone; Kalibar was off with Erasmus on some unknown errand, and Darius was still missing from yesterday.
And Kyle...
Ariana closed her eyes, feeling a sinking despair come over her. She'd filled the day with magic practice, so that she wouldn't have time to think about Kyle. She could still see Master Banar's lifeless body, face-down in the grass. She could only hope that Kyle hadn't suffered the same fate; the fact that Kyle's body hadn't been found with Banar's was encouraging.
Although Ariana knew all too well that death was not the worst thing that could happen to someone.
She rolled onto her side, fearing that tonight would be the same as last night...sleepless. She dreaded this, being alone with her thoughts. She couldn't help but imagine Kyle lost in some dark place, terr
ified and hopeless. Wondering if anyone would ever find him...if anyone was even looking. That was how she had felt, after all, after being torn from her family.
She sighed, rolling onto her other side, pulling her blankets up to her chin. She vividly remembered the first time she had met Kyle, in the classroom in the Arena. He'd been unlike any other boy she'd met there...shy, naïve, and sweet. And he'd rescued her from the Arena; even though Darius had been the mastermind, the bodyguard wouldn't have thought twice about leaving her there to rot. Kyle had vouched for her, refusing to leave if she wasn't freed as well. For that, she owed Kyle a debt she could never repay.
And if he was truly lost, or worse, then she would never even get the chance to try.
Ariana's vision blurred as tears welled up unbidden in her eyes. She blinked, the tears rolling down her cheeks. This was far worse than dying in the Arena would have been, this slow death. She'd been saved only to have her new home – her new friends – taken from her one by one. No matter where she was, Xanos could reach her. Until the god was destroyed, she would never feel truly safe.
Ariana closed her eyes, pulling her blankets over her face. She could only hope that her utter exhaustion would force her to finally fall asleep, so that she wouldn't have to feel this pain anymore.
* * *
Kalibar sighed, stretching his neck to either side, then back, to get the kinks out of it. Then he walked across his bedroom, turning to sit on the edge of his bed. He'd been with Erasmus for most of the day – and night – in the Testing Chamber, racing to complete a prototype of the sensory rune array. They'd nicknamed the prototype “the Rune Seeker,” which seemed appropriate enough. The Rune Seeker had seemed pretty straightforward in theory, but it was hardly straightforward in practice.
First, they'd needed to find the right rune fragments to put in their sensory array. That meant writing down every possible magical pattern known, then separating those patterns into common fragments. If the fragments were too short, they'd light up whenever any pattern was woven. But if they were too long, they'd be too specific to a particular pattern, and light up only when that one pattern was woven.
Then, after creating a list of the best pattern fragments, they'd tested them to make sure they worked. Erasmus was a remarkably quick rune-linker, and had generated the first sensory array within a few hours or so. Kalibar had then woven every pattern he knew near the array, and about half had lit up the correct sensory runes.
Then it was back to the drawing board.
Ten hours later, they'd finally done it, creating a sensory array that worked. Erasmus had immediately sent for Jenkins, who'd met them in the hallway with two glasses of red wine. One toast and two empty glasses later, they'd gone back to the Testing Chamber, ready for round two – bringing in the magical creature that held the pattern they wanted to learn.
That had been...difficult.
But despite the extraordinary risk they'd taken by having the creature brought in – the risk to the hunters who'd gone out to find it, not to mention the personal danger to Kalibar and Erasmus themselves – everything had gone smoothly. With the specimen secured, the first round of testing had gone remarkably well. A few dozen rune fragments had lit up, and Erasmus was busily combining the fragments to form complete runes.
During the majority of this, Kalibar had found himself to be mostly useless. Erasmus was far more creative and skilled in developing the sensory array, and Kalibar had left to attend to the running of the Empire. As expected, Councilman Ibicus had been sworn in as Elder, and the opposition had chosen a new Runic to replace Jax that was not particularly fond of either Kalibar or Erasmus. The power of the Council had shifted in Councilman Goran's favor 7-5, with Ibicus as a tiebreaker.
Not that a tie vote was very likely any longer.
Kalibar sighed again. He couldn't help but hold a grudging respect for Xanos, whoever or whatever the man was. Despite possessing extraordinary power, Xanos had effectively neutered the highest levels of the government in the Empire in a matter of days, without a single battle being fought. Kalibar had expected an epic battle with a massive army, a show of overwhelming force; instead, the self-proclaimed god had shown himself a superior tactician.
It was all exceedingly depressing.
He glanced at a timekeeper hanging on the wall by his bed; it was a few minutes before midnight. Erasmus had promised to meet Kalibar here at midnight, to give an update on his progress. Sure enough, there was a knock on the front door to his suite. Kalibar stood up quickly, walking to the door to answer it. But when he opened the door, it wasn't Erasmus standing on the other side...it was Councilman Ibicus.
“Grand Weaver,” Ibicus greeted, bowing slightly. Kalibar recovered quickly from his surprise, gesturing for the Councilman to come in.
“Councilman Ibicus,” he replied. “Come in.” He walked Ibicus to a pair of couches facing each other, sitting down opposite the Councilman. “And please, call me Kalibar in private,” he insisted.
“Thank you,” Ibicus replied. “I apologize for visiting so late, but I admit to having a hard time sleeping,” he added. “We both know that my appointment has changed the dynamic of the Council.”
“We're hamstrung,” Kalibar stated bluntly. Ibicus grimaced.
“Not quite the way I would have phrased it, but yes, I suppose so.”
“You know so,” Kalibar corrected. Ibicus frowned, but Kalibar smiled. “I don't enjoy the artifice of politics, Ibicus,” he stated gently. “We've never seen eye to eye, and we each have different views on how to take the Empire forward. I do believe, however, that we both want the same thing...what we feel is best for the Empire.”
Ibicus paused for a moment, then nodded. “Agreed,” he replied. “That's why I came tonight. And while we're being honest with each other,” he added, “...I've always felt that your decision to go to war with our neighbors, instead of attempting a more diplomatic solution, was immoral.”
“I still lose sleep over that decision,” Kalibar admitted. “I often wish I were a less introspective man.”
“So you didn't come by it easily?” Ibicus pressed. Kalibar shook his head.
“I've seen what war does,” Kalibar stated. “It's a tragedy for everyone involved. I knew that declaring war with the remaining tribes would create horrors that would echo through generations. But I did not declare war without provocation, and I weighed the consequences of war against my vision of a lasting peace for the Empire.”
“A lot of people disagreed with you,” Ibicus countered. “Populists and Elitists both. Goran, myself, even Jax fought you on that,” he added. “I don't know how or why Jax made peace with you, but he did.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose that's why I couldn't sleep tonight,” he added. “Jax started off like me – he was one of your bitterest opponents – and yet somehow he became a staunch ally. As his successor, I feel like I owe it to him to find out why.”
Kalibar frowned, lowering his gaze for a long moment, then looking back up at Ibicus.
“I respect your candor, and your temperance,” he stated. “But Jax never gave me a reason for his support. I can only guess as to his motives.” And that, Kalibar knew, was true; the late Councilman had been sparse with his words, telling more with his actions, much like Darius. Kalibar regretted not having more conversations with the Elder Councilman.
“And what would be your guess?” Ibicus pressed. Kalibar shrugged.
“I told Jax that in conquering our neighbors, I would be preventing countless future wars...by taking nations that had been warring with each other for centuries and making them one people. But I don't think that was what swayed him. I simply think Jax knew that I was genuine,” he continued. “That I was thoughtful, and considerate of the impact of my decisions. I do think he disagreed with me – and Erasmus – on many things, but he never took our disagreements personally. And when we disagreed, we talked through it until we understood each other.”
“Until you convinced h
im?” Ibicus asked. Kalibar snorted.
“Hardly. Just until we knew where each other stood. We never had to guess, or assume the worst about each other. We spoke our minds, kept it professional, and went from there.”
“I see,” Ibicus stated. He regarded Kalibar for a long, silent moment, then nodded slightly. “I hope that we can have a similar relationship, Grand Weaver.”
“Kalibar,” Kalibar corrected. Ibicus smiled.
“Kalibar.”
“I don't expect you to change your opinions – or your vote – to maintain our relationship,” Kalibar said.
“I had no intention of doing so,” Ibicus replied with a wry smile. Then he stood up, and Kalibar stood with him. Ibicus reached out with his right hand, and Kalibar clasped it in his own.
“Good night, Ibicus,” he said. Then he smiled. “I'm glad you came.”
“Good night, Kalibar.”
“I think,” Kalibar ventured, “...that Erasmus would appreciate a visit like this.” Ibicus winked.
“Already done,” he replied. Then he turned and left the room, leaving Kalibar standing by the couch, staring at his translucent door long after the man was gone. After everything that had happened between them, he'd never expected Ibicus to extend him an olive branch.
Kalibar couldn't help but think that if he had been a better Grand Weaver, he would have done it first.
Chapter 17
Kyle stood beside Darius on the yellowed stone of the open pit mine, a strong breeze whipping through his hair. All that remained of the Behemoth was the massive impression it had left in the ground after it had fallen, a pit nearly three feet deep in the shattered rock. Kyle stared at Darius, clad in Ampir's armor, his mirrored visor reflecting a panorama of the landscape before them.
“We're going to your home?” Kyle asked. Darius nodded, the runes on his armor no longer glowing their customary blue. Kyle thought the legendary armor looked strange without that constant, pulsing glow. “Where's that?” he pressed.