by Clayton Wood
Eventually, Kalibar and Erasmus managed to escape their evening of meetings to join Kyle and Ariana for dinner. Everyone met in Kalibar's old retirement suite, joined by Darius, all of them starving after a long day's work. When a rather ruddy-cheeked Jenkins arrived to take their orders, he got a boisterous welcome indeed.
“Jenkins!” Kalibar cried as the butler arrived. “You look well,” he added. And that he did; whereas previously his color had been pale and his eyes sunken, Jenkins now appeared his usual vigorous self.
“A bout of pneumonia,” the butler explained, bowing at his charges. Kalibar smiled.
“Glad you're feeling better,” he stated. “We'll all be having the roast duck,” he added, “...for old time's sake.”
“And some wine,” Erasmus piped in. “Lots of it,” he added with a grin. Kyle still couldn't believe how well the Grand Runic looked; he suspected the portly man's miraculous recovery was more than a matter of luck...not that Darius would ever admit to it.
“Of course, sires,” Jenkins replied, turning about at once and leaving the suite. He soon arrived with plate after plate of steaming duck, the smell so delectable that Kyle's mouth watered almost painfully with the smell of it. This was followed almost immediately by glasses of red wine for each of them, along with several extra bottles for good measure. Kyle took a tiny sip from his, then made a face, passing his glass to Darius, who took a much larger gulp. Erasmus frowned at his glass, shooting Jenkins a suspicious look.
“Are you sure you didn't poison this?” he asked the butler, raising one eyebrow. Ariana glared at the Grand Runic.
“It was an honest mistake,” she complained, giving Jenkins an apologetic look. They'd interrogated the poor man rather vigorously after Ariana had implicated him in her assassination attempt. They'd exonerated Jenkins only after they'd identified Greg's body in Kalibar's suite.
“Still, I'd better have someone expendable test it first,” Erasmus stated, turning to Darius. “Here, take a sip, would you?” When Darius refused to be baited, Erasmus chuckled. “Shirking your responsibilities again, eh?” he needled. “Where were you all that time...you know, when Kalibar actually needed his bodyguard?”
“Can't imagine why anyone would want to kill you,” Darius replied, biting into a steaming piece of duck. Kyle bit into his own, practically drooling over its deliciousness. Ariana nibbled on hers, then pushed her plate toward Darius, who was more than happy to take it off of her hands. Erasmus snorted.
“At least the Council back-stabbed me literally for once,” he countered. “But seriously, where were you?”
“You want to know?” Darius asked. Erasmus nodded, as did everyone else. Indeed, Kyle himself was curious as to what the bodyguard had been doing while they'd been running for their lives, nearly dying on more than one occasion. “I had to take care of something,” Darius answered.
“Something more important than your job?” Erasmus retorted. Darius nodded serenely, finishing his own duck and starting in on Ariana's. Erasmus frowned. “Like what?”
“I had to go to the bathroom,” Darius explained.
Erasmus stared at him.
“A bowel movement,” Darius added, “...if you must know.” When Erasmus continued to stare at him in disbelief, Darius stopped eating for a moment, looking up at the man. “You ever try to take a dump in full plate mail?” he asked.
“A bowel movement?” Kalibar piped in incredulously. Erasmus rolled his eyes.
“I'm eating here,” he complained, gesturing at his steaming plate of delicious goodies. Darius shrugged, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
“It was diarrhea,” he explained.
“Come on now!” Erasmus exclaimed, throwing his fork onto his plate with a clatter.
“There was blood,” Darius added.
“Oh for cripe's sake,” Erasmus spat, pushing his plate away. It slid to the center of the table, nearly upending Ariana's glass of wine. Darius snatched the glass before it tipped over, then generously offered to take it off of her hands. Moments later, it was empty.
“Don't drink the water from the lake around the Arena,” Darius counseled. Kalibar chuckled, and then they all laughed, even Darius. They all finished their duck, and within moments Jenkins had removed all evidence of their gluttony, replacing their plates with bowls of what appeared to be ice cream. It was, Kyle soon discovered, the creamiest, most delicious ice cream he'd ever tasted. And it left him with a profound contented feeling that he'd never quite experienced before, as if all the stress of the last few days had simply melted away. He turned to Kalibar to ask him what it was made of.
“Sweetroot,” Kalibar replied with a wink. “Among other things. Highly concentrated,” he added. And Kyle supposed it must be true; he couldn't imagine being possessed of any desire for violence or even anger under its decidedly delightful effect. The others soon finished their ice cream, except Ariana, who apparently had no need or desire for eating. They all sat back in their chairs contentedly while Jenkins cleared the table, except for Erasmus, who asked – with uncharacteristic politeness, no doubt on account of the ice cream – for more wine. Eventually, even his prodigious appetites were sated, and they all sat about the table, trading war stories and jokes, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Under the influence of wine and sweetroot, Erasmus even gave Darius a hug (much to the bodyguard's discomfort), thanking him tearfully for saving his life – and then promptly asked for more wine, in hopes of erasing the memory of ever having done so.
Eventually midnight came and went, and full bellies making for sleepy heads, they all turned in. Kyle said goodnight to them all, even managing to sneak a quick smooch from Ariana, and then made his way happily to his bed. With his mind free from worry and his belly delightfully full, his eyelids soon became heavy, and he fell fast asleep.
Chapter 29
The following day, everyone in the Tower got ready for the dedication ceremony in the newly repaired Tower lobby. Kalibar and Erasmus had ordered the Empire's finest sculptors to create two painted statues, one of a Battle-Weaver standing tall against an unseen enemy, his staff held valiantly before him. The other was of Runic, clad in his traditional white robes, holding a killerpillar weapon. The statue of the Battle-Weaver was placed on a majestic solid-gold pedestal in the center of the lobby, while that of the Runic was placed on a similar pedestal high above, in the center of the reverse-gravity lobby. All of the Battle-Weavers had been invited to the lobby, while the Runics stood on the ceiling high above.
“We are here today,” Kalibar declared, standing behind a podium erected in front of the Battle-Weaver statue, facing the crowd, “...to preserve the memory of those who gave their lives for the Empire, and for its people.” He gestured at the statues. “I owe my life to them,” he added, “...and to you that stand before me today, as does every citizen of Stridon.”
There was hearty applause at that, which slowly died away when Kalibar raised his hand up for silence.
“Two thousand years ago, our ancestors, who had created an Empire based on the ideals of freedom, the advancement of knowledge, and equality among men, had that Empire taken from them. Cities were destroyed, the Tower fell. All seemed lost.” He paused for a moment, staring out at the crowd, his jaw set firm.
“But their enemies,” he stated, “...and ours, failed to understand that the Empire is not made of buildings. It is not a thing of stone and mortar. Freedom does not lie in any city. It exists in the hearts and minds of the people. And, so long as we endure, so long as the idea of a people united by a common dream, of a better future for our children, and of the freedom of every man to choose his own destiny, for better or for worse, survives...this Empire will not fall.”
“I dedicate these statues in memory of those who died to preserve these freedoms. Their sacrifice is not in vain. Our enemy is strong, and is possessed of the ability to subvert our fellow man, to create puppets of good and just men, like the late Councilman Ibicus. Our enemy seeks to take what is most pre
cious to us: our free will. Do not be fooled by their claim to create a better world in this way, that they might create an Empire more advanced than that of the Ancients. For we all know that the Empire is not about magic, nor the technology it provides. It is made of the very ideals that our enemy wishes to take from us, a sacrifice of our self-determination for an empty promise of security.”
Kalibar's eyes hardened, and he scanned the crowd, gripping his podium with one hand.
“Is there any man here who would give up their freedom?”
The crowd roared, a resounding “No!” echoing through the lobby.
“I will give up my life,” Kalibar declared, slamming his fist into the podium, “...to defend your right to be the captains of your own lives. I will die, as did those we commemorate, before I allow this Empire, this great nation and all it stands for, to perish.” His voice softened then.
“I will give my life,” he stated, “...for you, who have taken an oath to do the same. For those who have lost their lives saving mine. Every breath I take is a testament to their bravery. I will remember them. We will remember them. And we will endure.”
* * *
After the dedication ceremony, Kalibar and Erasmus returned to their respective duties, leaving Kyle and Ariana to themselves. They chose, as they had yesterday, to spend the time with each other, going on another walk through the campus. The great engine of the Secula Magna had been restored, crowds of white and black-clad students rushing to and fro to their various classes, the terror of two days ago having already been replaced by the comforting routines of everyday life. Ariana was to resume her studies with Master Owens tomorrow, and a Runic instructor for Kyle had apparently been selected. Rather alarmingly, Erasmus had pulled Kyle aside to inform him that he was to present his idea on sensory rune arrays to the top Runic scholars in the Secula Magna, including a demonstration of Erasmus and Kalibar's functioning prototype. Kyle had enough trouble presenting a book report in front of fifteen classmates; the idea of speaking before the some of the finest minds in the Empire was the stuff nightmares were made of. But Erasmus had left no other option available.
Kyle sighed, dreading every passing minute as he walked with Ariana. She smiled, squeezing his hand gently. She already knew what was on his mind, and despite her insistence that he would do fine, he hardly believed her. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to the side, seeing a very familiar man walking beside him.
“Darius!” he exclaimed. The bodyguard, decked out as always in his shimmering golden armor, smirked at Kyle and Ariana.
“Can I tear you from your girlfriend for a minute?” he asked. Kyle blushed, and he glanced at Ariana, who would've blushed if she could have. He was, for a moment, jealous of her lack of blood. But she nodded, letting go of Kyle's hand and turning about while Kyle and Darius continued forward. She waved to him, and he waved back, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and infatuation. He turned to Darius, who was in mid eye-roll.
“Hey,” Kyle mumbled. Darius said nothing until Ariana had disappeared far in the distance, no doubt in consideration of her remarkable hearing.
“You want to go home?” he asked.
“To Antara?”
“Your home,” Darius corrected, staring at Kyle with his intense blue eyes. Kyle felt his jaw drop open, and snapped it shut with a click.
“You mean...” he began, then stopped. Darius nodded. Kyle turned his head away from the bodyguard, coming to a stop on the cobblestone path. He suddenly had the urge to sit down. “When?” he asked.
“Tomorrow.”
Kyle said nothing, feeling a strange numbness come over him. The thought of going home – of seeing his mom and dad, and his best friend Ben – should have filled him with joy, but instead he felt a sort of dread come over him. He thought of Ariana, of her kissing him, and suddenly had no desire to leave.
“It'll only be for a day or two,” Darius added, undoubtedly sensing Kyle's trepidation.
“So you'll bring me here again?” he pressed. Darius nodded. Kyle frowned. “Wait a second...how many days will go by here if I go back to Earth?”
“Forty or so days here for every day on Earth,” Darius answered. Kyle's eyes widened.
“Forty?” he exclaimed. “So if I go home for a week...”
“Close to a year,” Darius replied.
“Oh, man...” Kyle breathed, feeling despair come over him. “I don't want to be gone for a year,” he added miserably. There was no telling what could happen if he were gone that long. Ariana would miss him terribly, not to mention Kalibar.
“We'll make it half a day then,” Darius proposed, putting a heavy hand on Kyle's shoulder. “Twenty days on Doma.” Kyle smiled with relief.
“A half-day at most,” he agreed. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Darius resumed walking forward, and Kyle joined him, feeling a remarkable weight lift off of his shoulders. He realized that he'd been worried sick about whether or not he'd ever get to see his parents again. He turned to Darius, staring at the taciturn bodyguard for a long moment, a smile on his lips.
“Thanks,” he said, leaning to the side and resting his head on Darius's gold-plated shoulder. To his surprise, Darius did not pull away.
“You're welcome.”
“You know,” Kyle continued, “...you're a terrible grandfather.”
“Oh really?”
“Well, first of all, you're supposed to give me presents all the time, and candy, and let me do whatever I want.” Darius raised one eyebrow.
“Your other grandparents do that?”
“Yup,” Kyle confirmed. Darius shook his head.
“That explains a lot,” he grumbled. Kyle frowned, lifting his head off of Darius's shoulder.
“Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind,” Darius replied. “Now, about your parents...”
“Yeah?”
“Tell them nothing.”
“Okay,” Kyle agreed.
“Come on,” Darius said, stopping and turning about on the path, back toward the Tower far in the distance. Kyle turned with him, and they resumed walking. “Finish your presentation.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Kyle sighed. He'd almost forgotten about his upcoming presentation. Butterflies flitted about in his belly.
“It's a good idea,” Darius opined.
“I'm sure you already came up with it a long time ago,” Kyle countered.
“Nope,” Darius replied. “Never needed it. I can see patterns.”
“Oh, right,” Kyle mumbled.
“Ideas,” Darius stated, gazing at the Great Tower in the distance, its pyramidal peak shimmering in the sunlight like a giant diamond, “...change the world.” He turned back to Kyle. “But only if you act on them.”
“Why didn't you just destroy the Void Behemoth?” Kyle asked. The question had been bothering him ever since they'd won the battle against the massive machine. “Heck, why don't you just rule the Empire yourself?”
“I tried something like that once,” Darius admitted. “Somewhere far away from here. It didn't turn out well.”
“What happened?”
“People are all too eager to be led,” Darius replied. “I was a god to them, and they grew to rely on me instead of on themselves.” He shook his head then. “The best god for Man is a god that forces them to do without him.”
“But you helped save the Southwest Quarter,” Kyle countered.
“From another god.”
“Right,” Kyle mumbled. “But what about all the Battle-Weavers and Runics that died? Why didn't you save them?” he pressed. “You could've killed the Void Behemoth without even blinking!”
“True,” Darius agreed. Kyle waited for him to say something more, but he didn't.
“So why didn't you?”
Darius remained silent, and Kyle sighed, knowing what that meant...the dour bodyguard wasn't going to answer. He kicked a stone on the pathway, watching it roll into t
he grass.
“You’re a jerk sometimes, you know that?” he said. Darius smirked.
“Sometimes?”
“Ninety-nine percent of the time,” Kyle corrected. He kicked another stone, then sighed again. “I wonder who Xanos is,” he mumbled. He frowned then, recalling what Ariana had told him back at the makeshift bedroom in the Tower a few nights ago. “Ariana said something about the Chosen being controlled by someone other than Xanos,” he recalled.
“Who?”
Kyle scratched his head, struggling to remember their conversation. Then he snapped his fingers.
“She said it was an old man,” he recalled. “I think it was the same guy we met in the Arena, and after the Void Behemoth died,” he added tentatively. “She said his name was Sabin.”
Darius stopped suddenly, staring off into space. Kyle stopped as well.
“What?” Kyle asked.
“Go back to the Tower,” Darius ordered, stepping away from Kyle suddenly.
“Why?” Kyle asked. “What is it?”
“I'll tell you later,” Darius replied tersely. “Go on, prepare your presentation.”
“Where are you going?” Kyle pressed.
“Back to Antara,” Darius replied. Then he put a hand on Kyle's shoulder. “Say goodbye to Ariana and Kalibar tonight. Let them know you're going home, and nothing more.”
“Okay...”
And then Darius was gone.