by Clayton Wood
“Thanks,” the bodyguard grumbled.
Kalibar nodded, staring at the wall he'd created. Even now, pieces of it were breaking off, the air screaming through the holes they left. More and more of the wall crumbled before them, and Kalibar knew it wouldn't be long before it collapsed altogether. He turned to Kyle.
“I need magic!” he shouted. Kyle nodded, closing his eyes. A faint beam of blue light shot outward from his forehead toward Kalibar. The Grand Weaver felt the power fill his mind, then dissipate as it redistributed into the bones of his skull. The beam coming from Kyle stopped, and Kyle shook his head.
“No more,” he shouted back. Kalibar nodded, his heart sinking. He didn't have nearly enough power left to create another stone wall, and despite his legendary ability to generate magic, most of the magic he created would distribute itself into his depleted bones, leaving little to work with until he'd replenished them. He needed to find more magic.
The center of the makeshift wall collapsed suddenly, huge chunks of stone flying into the rapidly spinning gravity fields beyond, torn to smaller and smaller chunks that orbited frantically around the small white sphere. A blast of air struck Kalibar from behind, and he stumbled forward toward the hole in the wall. He felt Darius grip his arm, thrusting him backward, and then everything stopped.
The gusts of air slowed to a breeze, countless stone fragments orbiting the Void sphere falling to the floor with a dreadful clatter. Kalibar turned to Darius, who was already sprinting toward the giant hole in the wall.
“Now!” Kalibar cried.
Darius dove through the hole, tucking into a tight ball in mid-air, then flipping to land on his feet on the remains of the floor beyond. Cords of blue light streamed inward toward the Void sphere from the walls and floor as the sphere began to feed, the light much fainter than it had been before. Darius ran up to the sphere, grabbing it in one gauntleted fist.
The gilded bodyguard landed on the polished granite beyond, sinking to one knee, his fist tightening over the deadly sphere. Pulses of intense blue shone through the gaps in his fingers. Then there was a loud crack, and a massive burst of intense blue light shot outward in all directions, slamming into Kalibar's mind. He felt his brain instantly fill with magic, felt it thrumming momentarily with overwhelming power. Then the feeling faded, the magic redistributing into his starving bones.
Darius turned his hand over and opened his fingers, white dust falling in a stream to the floor.
“Woo!” Kyle exclaimed, leaping at Darius and giving him a bear hug. The boy turned to Kalibar, embracing him in turn. Then his face paled, and he turned to look down the hallway, and the missing riser beyond.
“We have to find Ariana!” he exclaimed.
A muffled boom rocked the hallway, the floor beneath them shuddering. Kalibar heard the sound of glass breaking in the distance, heard another explosion rock the Tower.
“We've got a problem,” Darius warned. Kalibar followed the bodyguard's gaze, turning to see a doorway beside them, the door having been ripped from its hinges earlier. Beyond, Kalibar recognized his own retirement suite, the one they'd just come from. The huge glass windows on the far wall had shattered, the city of Stridon visible beyond. Kalibar's eyes widened, gooseflesh rising on his arms. He strode forward through the doorway and into his suite, ignoring the shards of glass crunching beneath his boots.
There, below the stars that twinkled serenely in the night sky, the city was on fire.
* * *
Kyle stared out of the huge, shattered window in Kalibar's suite, looking past the sharp, irregular pieces of broken glass. Beyond the tall fence surrounding the Secula Magna, the skyline of Stridon stood silhouetted against the night sky, the shadows of the buildings beyond limned with tongues of red light. A shroud of black smoke, even blacker than the sky above it, hovered above the rooftops miles away.
“No...” Kalibar whispered, his voice barely audible. The Grand Weaver stood at Kyle's side, shaking his head from side to side. Then he slammed his fist into the wall beside the window. “Damn it!” he swore. Kyle jumped, shocked at the rage in Kalibar's voice. The old man spun around, running a hand through his short white hair. He cursed again, this time under his breath, then turned to Darius. “Okay,” he muttered, taking a deep breath in, then releasing it. “We need to identify and quantify the threat.” He tapped his goatee with one finger, then strode toward one of the end tables next to the many couches in the suite. He placed one hand on the communication orb there.
“Who are you calling?” Kyle asked. Kalibar sighed.
“No one, apparently,” he answered. “The entire communication system is down...I can't mobilize my Battle-Weavers from here.” He turned to Darius. “We need to get back down to Erasmus,” he stated. “He has to have gathered some Battle-Weavers. We need to organize our defenses.”
Kyle nodded, then glanced at Darius. The bodyguard was staring off into space.
“What's wrong?” Kyle asked. Darius turned his gaze to Kyle.
“He's right,” he replied gruffly, turning back toward the front door. “Let's go.” He began walking, and Kyle and Kalibar followed behind.
“We need to be cautious,” Kalibar warned. “I don't have much magic left, and neither do you, Kyle,” he added. “I doubt I have enough to repeat my previous performance if we meet another one of those Void spheres...or even if we meet up with any more of those prisoners.”
“I can give you what I have,” Kyle offered. Kalibar nodded, following Darius as the bodyguard opened the front door and stepped out into the ruined hallway.
“Please do.”
Kyle obliged, streaming magic to Kalibar's forehead immediately. Despite having had no magic left to give just minutes ago, he'd already regenerated quite a bit. He also realized that he was streaming magic without even thinking about it; magic had become – in a matter of weeks – something automatic, a reflex. He marveled at the progress he'd made; he'd been spending so much time kicking himself for his failures that he'd ignored his accomplishments.
“Thank you,” Kalibar said, nodding at Kyle. Then he raised an eyebrow. “You had a lot more magic than I did,” he added. “How did you make so much so quickly?”
“I make more magic now,” Kyle replied.
“Impressive,” Kalibar murmured. The three stopped in the middle of the hallway then, and Kalibar turned to Darius.
“The nearest risers are out,” he observed. “And we need to conserve magic. We'll have to take one of the emergency stairwells...but I want to stop by the 32nd floor first.”
“Why?” Kyle asked. The 32nd floor was well known to him. It contained the Runic Archives, after all...the Secula Magna's vast collection of runic items and tomes regarding all things magic. It was where his ring had been kept each day for studying.
“Erasmus and I created something that might be of use,” Kalibar explained. He smiled at Kyle then. “In fact, we used your idea to create it...your brilliant idea, I might add.” Kyle frowned; he had no clue what Kalibar was talking about. “The sensory rune array,” Kalibar continued. “To reverse-engineer magic patterns from nature.”
“Oh, right.” He'd almost forgotten about that. “It worked?”
“Oh yes,” Kalibar replied. “And we used the concept to create a weapon...one that might just help us win this war.” They walked down the hallway until they'd reached the door to the stairwell. Darius opened the door, ushering Kyle and Kalibar through.
“What kind of weapon?” Kyle asked.
“We had our naturalists bring us a killerpillar,” Kalibar answered. Kyle's eyes widened. He remembered the little red insects from his trek to Crescent Lake; seemingly harmless, the little buggers would flash bright red if threatened, then kill anything near them. “They flung dreamweaver silk at the specimen to force it to sleep, then hauled it back for us. We set up the sensor array near it, then – using gravity fields from behind a protective wall – irritated it until it reacted.”
“And you reverse-e
ngineered its pattern?” Kyle pressed. Kalibar nodded, striding down the stairwell at a quick pace.
“We did...eventually. Erasmus did most of the work,” he admitted. “He designed and created a prototype for a weapon using the killerpillar's unique ability.”
“What's it do?” Kyle asked. Kalibar gave him a grim smile.
“Exactly what you might expect,” he answered. “And if it works as well in the battlefield as it did in the lab, our enemy is in for a nasty surprise.”
Chapter 22
Ariana groaned.
She was surrounded by blackness, and a silence so profound that it was overwhelming. She felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing. She could not move, because there was nothing for her to move. She had no limbs, no face, no eyes.
She groaned again, realizing that she was making no sound, that the sound was only in her mind. She tried to remember where she was, when she was, but all she could remember was her identity...everything else was gone. She had no past, no future. Even the present meant nothing.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Maybe days.
Then something appeared, not in her vision but in her mind. A subtle vibration. She latched on to the sensation, mostly because it was a sensation...something to distinguish itself from the eternity of nothingness. It grew, the vibration, becoming stronger. She felt it expand, felt her mind sharpen. Random sensations came to her, the smell of smoke, the sound of a bird chirping. Then bursts of color, a memory of her house in Mortown. Her parents' house.
The images came and went, replaced by countless of others, a rapid-fire chain of memories, random and senseless because of that randomness. She let the deluge assault her, having no other choice. She felt a burning sensation suddenly, far away from her. As it intensified, she realized that she could move the burning...that it was a part of her. She did so, bringing it closer to herself. The burning faded slowly, replaced by pins-and-needles, a sensation so powerful that it was agonizing. She cried out, and to her surprise, she heard the sound this time, echoing hollowly around her. It sounded strangely metallic and faraway, her voice, but it was her voice. She knew it now.
Slowly the pins and needles faded, replaced by the sensation of pressure. She realized that the burning sensation had become her left arm, and flexed it, feeling it rise upward. A sudden brightness – so unbelievably intense that it made her cry out again – seared through her mind, two bursts of light appearing before her. She raised her one arm to her face, the brightness fading slightly, and realized that she had eyes.
The brightness waned, became tolerable. Colors appeared in the distance, blurry at first, then sharpening. She blinked, feeling eyelids sliding over her eyes, marveling at the sensation. She'd felt it millions of times before, never paying attention to how strange and wonderful it was. She tried to move her eyes, but couldn't. She could only stare forward.
A long, wide tunnel extended above her, as far as she could see.
She felt more burning now, this time to her right, and knew that her right arm must be returning to her. She let it happen, having no other choice, feeling the sensation spread. The horrible pins-and-needles returned, pure torture that faded slowly, replaced by sharpness digging into her arms and legs.
She tried to move her eyes again, and found that she could.
Ariana lifted her head up slowly, the effort taking every bit of concentration that she had. She saw her body lying there, covered in chunks of stone of various sizes. A fine layer of gray dust coated her exposed skin. She lifted her head up further, spotted a deep gash in her left thigh.
Fear gripped her, panic rising in her breast.
She forced herself to look away, closing her eyes and resting her head back onto the ground. She felt an ache where the gash was, but it wasn't nearly as painful as she imagined it should be. She took a deep breath in, realizing with a start that it had been the first time she'd taken a breath since she'd awoken.
She held her breath, waiting.
Seconds passed, then minutes. No urge to breath came to her, no burning in her chest. No heartbeat pounding in her breast. She held her breath for what seemed like an eternity, yet nothing happened.
She exhaled, then opened her eyes again, lifting herself upward slowly until she was sitting on the hard stone below. She looked at the wound on her left thigh again, the sight of her exposed muscle and fat having less of an effect this time. She experimented, lifting her knee upward, and it moved easily, hunks of stone rolling off of it onto the ground. She tested her right leg, and lifted that knee as well.
Her right ankle was bent inward at a crazy angle, a sharp bone end jutting out of the side of it.
She jerked her head away from the sight, closing her eyes. A vision of an old man came to her, of her flesh parting under his fingertips. She shuddered, opening her eyes and ignoring her ruined ankle. It ached terribly, spasms of pain shooting up her leg.
Ariana leaned forward, twisting until she was laying on her stomach in the rubble, her legs behind her. She saw a hallway beyond the tunnel above her, and realized that she was in a riser shaft. How she'd gotten there, she had no idea...but it was clear that she'd fallen some distance. The pieces of stone around her were similar to the risers in the Tower, so she knew that she must be in the Great Tower.
She remembered Darius leaning over her, remembered herself screaming when they'd told her about...
Ariana reached up with one hand, pressing her fingertips against her forehead.
Then it came back to her...the realization of what Darius had done to her. Her guts twisted with dread, panic threatening to overwhelm her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. What had happened after that? She remembered walking out of Kalibar's suite...and then nothing afterward. She frowned, concentrating harder. Still nothing.
She sighed then, staring down the hallway ahead. She realized that she could hear voices beyond, could see people at the other end of the long hallway...men in black armor, the elite guards of the Great Tower. Ariana grit her teeth, reaching ahead with one hand and pulling herself forward over the rubble beneath her. Then she reached out with her other hand, crawling toward the raised lip of the hallway floor only a few feet away. She reached it, hauling herself up into the hallway. The vibration in the center of her forehead grow stronger, pulsing within her. The sensation was different than it had been in life, but it was obviously magic. Somehow, her magic had been taken from her, and even more inexplicably, it was returning.
She paused, lying flat on the floor, feeling the vibration turn into a rapid-fire pulsing, the pulsing growing into a roiling cauldron of power. She felt her limbs strengthen, her muscles nearly bursting with energy. She moved again, crawling down the hallway, the motions effortless now, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her power was returning, that horrifying strength that had crushed Darius's armor, and nearly broken Kyle's hand.
She felt a pang of guilt then, followed by an intense despair at what she'd become. Not quite human, not quite alive. A dead girl walking, the unwilling inheritor of the Dead Man's curse...the man she thought she'd finally freed herself from.
“Hey!” a voice shouted. Ariana looked up and saw one of the elite guards running down the hallway toward her, his gravity shields activated. He stopped before her, his eyes widening in recognition. “Ariana!” he cried, dropping to one knee beside her. “Are you alright?”
“My legs,” she replied, grimacing slightly. “I think I fell.” The guard looked down at her legs, then frowned.
“They don't look injured,” he countered. “Which leg hurts?” Ariana stared at the man for a moment, wondering if he was daft. Then she rolled onto her side, glancing down at her legs. The smooth curve of her calves met her ankles without interruption, her right foot no longer deformed. She glanced at her left thigh, seeing nothing but a large tear in her pants, the underlying skin pale and smooth. She stared at it, hardly believing her eyes.
“Uh, miss?”
Ariana blinked, then tur
ned to see the elite guard staring at her. She gave him the most convincing smile she could muster, then rose up from the ground in one fluid motion, forcing herself to move slowly. Still, the movement felt too quick. She could see the guard's surprise, and realized she would have to be more careful in the future if she wanted to keep her...condition...a secret.
“The right one,” Ariana replied, nearly forgetting the guard's initial question. She pretended to gingerly test it. “It's sore, but not as bad as I thought.”
“You can walk?”
“Yeah,” Ariana replied. The guard turned about, leading her down the hallway toward the lobby beyond. She followed behind, her eyes widening as she entered the huge room. The place was in shambles, the floor littered with fragments of stone and wood, her boots splashing in at least an inch of red-tinged water covering the floor. There were people everywhere...elite guards, Battle-Weavers, and even white-cloaked Runics standing about. Near the center of the lobby, to one side of a huge pile of something red and mushy – garbage, it looked like – stood Erasmus, surrounded by countless guards. The portly Grand Runic was speaking with one of the guards, but stopped when Ariana and her escort drew near.
“Ariana!” Erasmus exclaimed, excusing himself and walking up to her. “Thank goodness you're okay,” he added, looking her up and down. Then he frowned. “Wait, are you okay?” he asked. “You look terrible.”
“Gee thanks,” Ariana muttered. But she forced herself to smile – and found that she didn't have to try very hard. She was glad to see the foul-mouthed Grand Runic. “What's going on?”
“Ah, right,” Erasmus muttered, “...you wouldn't know.” Then he frowned. “Where's Kalibar and Kyle? They went to check up on you.”
“Uh, I don't remember,” Ariana admitted. “I fell on my way here and hit my head.” Erasmus raised one bushy eyebrow.
“Did you ever see them?” he asked. Ariana nodded.