by Clayton Wood
“You'll fail,” Ibicus countered. “Just like every other civilization since the Ancients failed. Man requires a hand to guide them, to steer them from self-destruction. To save them from themselves.”
“Let her go,” Owens growled, taking a step toward Ibicus. Suddenly, Owens' gravity shields vanished, and he was thrust backward against the wall...hard. The Weaver's head struck the wall with a sickening thump, and he fell immediately to the floor, his head bouncing off of the granite tile. Ariana tried to bolt from where she was pinned to the wall, scrambling with her arms and legs to free herself, but it was no use. She could only watch as Owens lay unmoving on the floor.
Ibicus turned back to her, and sighed.
“What a waste to kill you all,” he lamented. Then he thrust his arm leftward, the dagger slicing across the front of Ariana's neck.
* * *
Ariana cried out as Ibicus attacked, feeling the cool, sharp edge of his dagger sink into her flesh. Pain lanced through her neck, the right side of her body going suddenly numb.
And then there was an explosion.
Millions of gray particles shot upward toward the ceiling over her head, arcing against the white marble of the ceiling, then falling like snowflakes all around her. The world tilted crazily, and she felt herself falling to the right, her shoulder slamming into the floor, then her head. She lay there, her temple on the cold floor, staring at the gray particles as they rained down in front of her, forming a thin layer on the glossy granite.
And then there was a flash of gold.
Ariana blinked, seeing a golden boot step into her field of view. A gauntleted hand reached down, wrapping around her shoulders. She felt another arm scoop under her knees. And then she was rising upward off of the ground.
Eyes stared down at her, brilliant blue against golden skin.
Darius, she tried to whisper, but only a faint hissing sound came out. He stared at her silently.
She felt a sudden burning in her right leg, felt it come alive again, muscles twitching uncontrollably under her skin. The burning spread to her arm, her fingers feeling as though they were on fire. Her hand clenched into a fist, spasms running through her forearm, and then the feeling passed. She felt a slight tingling sensation in her neck, and panicked, reaching her fingers up to it, feeling only smooth skin there.
“Darius,” she whispered again, but this time she heard her own voice calling out, saw the bodyguard's lips smile, though his eyes did not. There was something in his expression, something she had never seen there before.
“Hey kiddo,” he murmured. His voice was soft, almost tender. It didn't seem right coming from the gruff bodyguard. Ariana stared at him for a long moment, then glanced down at where Ibicus had been standing seconds ago. Only a pile of gray dust remained, the tip of a long green crystal embedded in the center of it.
“What happened?” she asked, turning back to Darius.
“You're safe now,” Darius murmured, wrapping his arms around her in gentle embrace. “I won't let them hurt you anymore.”
Chapter 23
Kyle ran down the last flight of stairs, Kalibar right behind him. They were both huffing and puffing from the exertion, having descended forty stories, stopping only to retrieve Kalibar's weapon from the archives. Darius had taken the thing, a modified crossbow of sorts, and had been leading them down the stairs when he'd inexplicably sped up, leaving Kyle and Kalibar far behind. They'd both called after the bodyguard, who had, as usual, ignored them. Kyle nearly collapsed when they finally reached the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the wall with one hand and gasping to catch his breath before Kalibar passed him, yanking the door open.
“Go,” Kalibar urged, striding out into the hallway beyond. Kyle groaned, irritated that the old Weaver, a stickler for exercise, could have outrun him. He stumbled after the man, struggling to keep up. The stairway had taken them to a hallway leading to the main lobby of the Tower; directly across from them, Kyle saw two bodies lying on the floor. Kalibar ran to them, and Kyle realized immediately that they were Battle-Weavers...and that they were most certainly dead. He heard shouting from further down the hallway, and saw a group of guards and Battle-Weavers rushing away from them, toward the lobby. They were carrying someone, a man in white robes by the looks of it; drops of his blood marked their path.
“Erasmus!” Kalibar shouted, sprinting madly after the men. Kyle followed behind the old man. They reached the lobby, following the group of guards to the center of it. The guards lowered the white-robed man to the ground gently, and Kyle caught a glimpse of the man's face; it was indeed Erasmus, but he was clearly unconscious, and extraordinarily pale. His clothes were soaked in wet redness; Kyle could only assume it was blood.
The guards parted before Kalibar, allowing the Grand Weaver to reach Erasmus's side. Kalibar dropped to his knees beside his old friend, panic in his eyes.
“Erasmus!” he cried. Then he glanced up at one of the guards. “What's happened?” he demanded. “Is he alive?”
“Barely,” one of the guards answered. Indeed, the Grand Runic was breathing, his chest rising and falling rapidly but shallowly. Kyle felt fear grip his innards; Erasmus was alive, but he wouldn't be for long.
“Get a doctor here, now!” Kalibar ordered, pointing directly at one of the guards. The man nodded, dashing off to complete his task. Then Kalibar turned to Kyle. “Give me your magic,” he demanded, his voice stern. “All of you,” he added, turning toward the Battle-Weavers scattered among the guards. Kyle complied, watching as lines of blue magic shot toward Kalibar from all directions. Kalibar himself turned to face Erasmus; the Grand Runic's robes split in the middle, the fabric tearing under Kalibar's power, exposing the flesh underneath. Kyle immediately spotted Erasmus's injuries; three stab wounds on the side of his chest, just below the right armpit.
Kalibar bent over Erasmus so that his ear was near his chest, then tapped Erasmus's right chest with two fingers. Then he moved to squat by Erasmus's feet, staring at Erasmus's chest as it rose and fell. He glanced upward at one of the guards nearby, pointing directly at the man.
“Get me a table long enough to hold a man,” he ordered. Kalibar turned to another guard. “You, get me a small tube,” he commanded. He turned to a third guard, asking for balm-tree sap. All three ran off, and less than a minute later, a table was brought in. Kalibar ordered Erasmus lifted onto the table, then asked one of the guards for a blade, and was handed a small knife. To Kyle's utter astonishment, Kalibar placed the blade on the side of Erasmus's chest over one of the puncture wounds, cutting into the flesh there to elongate the wound. Then he spread the skin edges apart with the fingers of his left hand, exposing the fat and muscle. Kalibar cut into the muscle between Erasmus's ribs, then reached into the incision with one finger, twisting his wrist and pressing hard. Kyle heard a sudden pop, followed by a hissing sound as air escaped from Erasmus's chest. The Grand Runic's color improved almost immediately, his flesh turning from dusky to pink, and he groaned, thrashing about on the table. Kalibar ordered the guards to hold Erasmus's arms and legs, while another pressed the man's pelvis to the table.
A guard handed Kalibar a small, long metallic tube, no greater in diameter than a man's thumb, and Kalibar slipped this into the incision he'd made. Kyle saw a blue, disc-shaped gravity field appear at the end of the tube, and air began whooshing out of the tube, followed by clumps of maroon clots. After a few moments, nothing more came out, and Kalibar took a jar of balm-tree sap, slathering it on the incision on either side of the tube. The skin began pulling together almost immediately, and Kalibar slathered the sap onto the base of the tube, holding it in place.
A man in a red uniform and black pants – the uniform of a field surgeon, Kyle knew – appeared, the crowd of guards parting for him. The man glanced at Kalibar, then at Erasmus, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Kalibar turned to the surgeon, his expression grave.
“He's been stabbed three times in the chest,” he stated, pointing to the wounds. �
�The lung was collapsed; I released the pressure from air trapped around his lung and placed this chest tube.”
“I see,” the surgeon replied, regarding Kalibar's handiwork. “Well done, Grand Weaver,” he added. Then he hesitated. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“I saw a few such surgeries performed in battle,” Kalibar answered. “Though I never had the opportunity to perform one myself until now.” The surgeon and the guards all stared at Kalibar – as did Kyle – amazed at the Grand Weaver's courage...and skill.
“We'll get him to the operating suite,” the surgeon promised. Within moments, Erasmus was lifted from the table onto a levitating gurney, and whisked away.
Kalibar asked for a pot, creating a stream of water to splash on his hands, rinsing the blood from them. Kyle saw the crowd part suddenly, and Ariana strode in, walking beside Master Owens. Kyle whooped with delight, running up to Ariana and wrapping his arms around her. He picked her up, twirling her about, and then put her down.
“You're alive!” he blurted out, his spirit soaring. Ariana gave him a subdued smile, and Kyle winced, realizing his poor choice of words. But Ariana put a cold hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“I'm okay,” she corrected. Then Kalibar embraced her, holding her tightly for a moment and whispering something into her ear. He pushed her gently away then, turning to Master Owens. The man looked dazed, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood.
“What happened?” Kalibar asked. Owens gestured to Ariana, who brought one hand forward, opening her fingers to reveal a long, tapered green crystal.
“They turned Ibicus with this,” she explained. “He tried to kill Erasmus and Owens.”
“And Ariana,” Owens interjected, rubbing the back of his head gingerly.
“Ibicus is dead?” Kalibar pressed. Ariana nodded. “Damn,” Kalibar swore. “If he'd killed Erasmus, he'd have been next in line for Grand Runic...and no one would have been the wiser.” He shook his head then, turning to stare down the hallway that Erasmus had been carried off to. “Hang in there, old friend,” he murmured.
“Luckily your bodyguard reached us in time,” Owens stated. “Ariana tells me he used this to kill Ibicus,” he added, holding up a crossbow. It was Kalibar's weapon; a standard crossbow, except there was a metallic, rune-inscribed rod welded in where the bolts would have gone. Owens handed it to Kalibar.
“It killed a Chosen?” Kalibar asked. Owens nodded. Kalibar gave a weary smile. “That's the best news I've heard all day.” He frowned then. “Where is Darius?”
“He left,” Ariana answered, rubbing the side of her neck absently. When Kalibar lifted an eyebrow, she shrugged. “He said he needed to take care of something.”
“Something more important than doing his job?” Kalibar retorted. “We've got a war out there,” he added, gesturing toward the double doors of the lobby. He turned to one of the Battle-Weavers surrounding them. “You...I need High Weaver Urson here now. Stridon is under attack; the Southwest Quarter is in flames. We need to identify the threat and issue a counterattack.” The Battle-Weaver bowed, then vanished into the crowd.
“To be fair, Darius did save us,” Owens stated gently. “And Erasmus, by extension. Your bodyguard has more than his fair share of faults,” he added, “But bad judgment isn't one of them.”
“Communication is,” Kalibar countered. But he sighed, visibly deflating. “We'll do without him. In the meantime, we need a secure base of operations, and we need to establish lines of communication with our militia.” He glanced down at the crossbow in his hands. “And we need to produce as many of these as possible.”
“I'll get Erasmus's Runics on it,” Owens promised.
“Thank you,” Kalibar replied. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath in, then letting it out slowly. He looked older suddenly, almost haggard. “With Erasmus critically injured and the Council scattered, I am the government.” He glanced about the lobby, at the dozens of men milling about. “If I fail,” he stated, his voice almost too quiet to hear, “...the Empire will fall.”
* * *
Kyle sighed, sitting down on one of the many chairs that had been brought to the lobby from other rooms in the Tower. The lobby had been rapidly converted into Kalibar's base of operations, and it hadn't taken long for High Weaver Urson to arrive with a few dozen more Battle-Weavers. Kyle had never seen Urson before, and had previously imagined him to be an old, grizzled man, but he was far from it. Young, perhaps in his late thirties, with long blond hair and green eyes, he was a striking figure in his black and silver suit of armor, a long black cloak spilling down from his shoulders. He walked and spoke with an almost cocky confidence, no doubt borne of his repeated successes on the battlefield. Urson and Kalibar had spoken for quite some time, but what they'd discussed was still a mystery to Kyle. Kyle was utterly exhausted, which was no surprise; he'd woken up yesterday morning in one of the Dead Man's carriages, and now it was after midnight. Not to mention that he'd spent a few hours on Antara, when only a third of that time had passed here on Doma. He'd had a heck of a day!
Kyle glanced to his right, where Ariana was sitting beside him. Despite everything that had happened to her, she didn't look tired in the least. She'd spent most of the last half-hour staring off into space, likely still processing everything that had happened to her. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like to be in her position. He wanted to talk to her about it, to understand what she was going through, but he was too scared that bringing it up would hurt her. Still, the silence between them was becoming increasingly unbearable, and eventually he had to break it.
“Hey,” he said, tapping Ariana on the shoulder. She snapped out of her reverie, turning to look at him questioningly. Her big brown eyes were startlingly beautiful against her stark white skin; he suddenly felt bashful to look at her.
“Hi,” she mumbled back, managing a weak smile.
“You okay?”
“No,” Ariana admitted. “You?”
“I'm okay,” he replied. “I'm just worried about you.”
“I'll be okay,” she said, staring down at her lap. “I just need time to think, that's all.” She paused for a moment, then shook her head. “It's like this isn't real,” she added. “Like this is just a dream, and any moment now I'm going to wake up.”
“Yeah,” Kyle agreed. He'd often felt the same way about his entire journey on Doma...that it had to be a dream. That any moment, he'd wake up on Earth, in his room, right where he'd been the night he'd been taken by Ampir. “I'm sorry,” he added, giving her a sidelong glance.
“For what?”
“I don't know,” Kyle answered. “For what happened to you, I guess.”
“It's not your fault,” she countered, putting a cold hand on his thigh. “It's not anyone's fault.”
“Yeah,” Kyle mumbled. He thought of Darius then, of how he'd spent so much time with the man on Antara, leisurely talking while Ariana had been attacked...and killed. If Darius had never taken Kyle to Antara, if he had been in the Tower when Ariana had been attacked, she might never have died. Darius had been wrong about his runes being able to beat Xanos, and Ariana had paid dearly for that mistake.
Her death was someone's fault.
“Don't worry,” Ariana stated, patting Kyle on the thigh. He glanced at her, seeing her staring back at him. Her gaze was almost hypnotic, and it quelled his sudden anger at Darius. “I'll be okay, I think.”
“I can't believe you're okay after that fall,” Kyle said. And it was true; despite her amazing strength, her fall down forty stories of riser shaft should have killed her. Or – seeing as she was already dead – at least maimed her. Ariana shrugged.
“I'm not sure what happened,” she admitted. Then she hesitated for a moment. “The man who...killed me, he said I had runes on my bones,” she added. “After I fell down the riser shaft, I broke my leg, but it healed itself somehow. I think it was the runes.”
“Huh?” Kyle asked. Then he spotted Kalibar
stepping away from High Weaver Urson and walking toward them. The Grand Weaver looked utterly exhausted.
“I'll tell you about it later,” Ariana promised, standing up as Kalibar walked up to them. Kyle stood as well. Kalibar stopped before them, gazing at Kyle with a critical eye. Kyle noticed that the Grand Weaver had strapped his modified crossbow – the weapon that had killed Ibicus – to his back.
“You need to get some sleep,” Kalibar observed. He flagged down a guard, gesturing at Kyle. “Please escort Kyle to the temporary sleeping chambers,” he stated. The many conference rooms and banquet halls on the first floor of the Tower had been converted into sleeping quarters and mess halls. The guard saluted Kalibar briskly, then gestured for Kyle to follow him. Kalibar turned to Ariana.
“You too,” he stated. But Ariana shook her head.
“I'm not tired.”
“Then at least watch over Kyle,” Kalibar insisted, putting a hand on Ariana's slender shoulder. “I'll feel better with you there beside him.” Ariana nodded, following Kyle and their chaperone out of the lobby and into one of the hallways. After a few turns, they arrived in a small room with two guards posted outside. Inside of the room, there were rows of cots lying on the floor, two rows of six. None of the cots were in use, so Kyle chose one farthest from the door. Ariana chose a cot beside him, and they both sat down, pulling off their shoes, then lying down.
“I wonder what's going on,” Kyle murmured. He heard Ariana stir, saw her turn over in her cot to face him.
“The Southwest Quarter is under attack,” she replied. “They think it's the rest of the escaped prisoners. They're setting buildings on fire.” Kyle frowned.
“How do you know that?” he asked. She'd been sitting right next to him the whole time, after all.
“I heard them,” she answered. He stared incredulously at her; they'd been a good fifty feet away from Kalibar and Urson when the two men had been talking, and the lobby had been extremely noisy. He hadn't been able to hear a thing. She frowned. “You couldn't hear them?”