by Clayton Wood
“Let me talk to her,” Kalibar stated, rubbing his chin with one hand. “And Kyle,” he added. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
Kyle nodded.
“Is there anything else you want to say?” Kalibar asked. Kyle paused, knowing that he had one secret left. A secret he no longer had any reason to keep. About who Darius really was. But he shook his head, unable to fathom telling Kalibar. Ampir was dead, but in Kalibar's mind, Darius was still alive. It almost felt like, in telling Kalibar Darius's true identity, he would be killing him.
“No,” he replied. And despite the lie, for the first time in weeks, he felt at peace. True, Sabin was still out there, but at least Kyle didn't feel so alone anymore. He had Kalibar on his side now. And whatever happened, good or bad...they would face it together.
“Where is Ariana?” Kalibar asked. Kyle paused, realizing that telling Kalibar the truth would betray Ariana yet again...revealing her ability to get through the Gate shield, and her violation of Kalibar's curfew. But he couldn't lie to Kalibar now.
“She's checking the boat schedule,” he admitted. “She can get through the Gate shield with her shard,” he added. Kalibar's eyebrows rose in surprise. Then he shook his head, chuckling quietly.
“Clever girl,” he murmured. He smiled then, patting Kyle on the shoulder. “You're in deep trouble, you know.”
“She's going to kill me,” Kyle agreed. Kalibar laughed, but Kyle shook his head. “It's not funny,” he complained. “She nearly broke my arm this morning!”
“I’ll protect you,” Kalibar promised. “Come on,” he added, gesturing for Kyle to stand up. “I suspect Ariana will be back shortly.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. “We have a lot to discuss.”
Chapter 10
Sabin withdrew from his memories, letting his consciousness swim aimlessly through the innumerable minds of his Chosen, sampling their senses and memories as he went. A flash of sunlight peeking from behind a cloud, the faces of a thousand Death Weavers staring back at him...the crushing silence of one Chosen trapped in its Void crystal, staring endlessly, unblinkingly at the same patch of metal grating for the last five hundred years. Another Chosen's body, placed behind the giant crystalline eye of a Void Behemoth, staring silently at row after row of other Behemoths.
All waiting patiently to be mobilized.
Sabin felt something tug on his mind, and he withdrew from the stream, searching for the source of the psychic pull. He found it, throwing a portion of his mind to it...a Chosen nearly a thousand miles away. He pushed its mind to the side, taking over its brain. Almost immediately, he felt his own body fading away.
He opened his eyes.
He was standing in a grassy field next to a lone tree, the wind blowing through his hair. He looked down, seeing the Chosen's hands there...his hands now. He flexed the fingers, or tried to...a few seconds later, his hands obeyed him. At this distance from Xanos, there was a slight lag between intent and action. He'd gotten used to the delay long ago, but it made his Chosen somewhat vulnerable while he was controlling them. This had not been an issue until Ampir – under the guise of Darius – had managed to kill so many of his Chosen while he was controlling them.
If it hadn't been for those seconds of lag, Ampir would not have found killing them so easy.
Sabin focused on his surroundings, spotting a man in golden armor standing next to a boy a few hundred feet away. No ordinary man could have heard them from this distance, but Sabin's Chosen were possessed of incredibly acute senses.
“I'm going after Sabin,” the man in golden armor said. “If I'm not back in 24 hours, assume I'm dead.”
Sabin felt the faint thrum of woven magic in his mind, and knew that the man – obviously Darius – had created a sound-dampening field around himself. The man continued to face Kyle – his back turned to Sabin – and he saw the boy nod once, then again. Darius handed the boy something.
And vanished.
Sabin paused for a moment, then withdrew his mind from the Chosen's, returning that portion of his consciousness to his own brain. He felt the immediate return of the endless agony of his tortured body, that horrible burning pain. He ignored this.
Ampir was coming, as expected. Everything was going according to plan.
He idly wondered what would happen if Ampir were to attack him, if the ancient Battle-Runic fought him here, in this very chamber. He hardly felt any fear at the prospect of battling his old acquaintance. Attacking his Chosen thousands of miles away was one thing, but facing him at the very center of his power, in a chamber he'd spent millennia perfecting, was tantamount to suicide. Here, he held the ultimate power – over magic itself. Here, there was no magic unless he allowed it. And the sheer enormity of his power – of a mind able to do a thousand things at once, in a chamber designed to thwart any would-be attacker – was unbeatable.
No one – not even the great Ampir – stood a chance.
He turned his mind back to the Chosen in this massive chamber, browsing the thousands of minds for a memory he'd avoided for a long, long, time. He hesitated briefly, wondering why he needed to do this now, to relive this particular memory.
He hesitated for a moment longer, then threw his consciousness into the mind of the Chosen, feeling his own body fade away.
* * *
Sabin feels the warm breeze dancing around him, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of nearby flowers. The laughter of children playing in the distance is followed by a surprised squeal, and more laughter. The kind of laughter that is the sole province of children; unreserved, joyful beyond measure.
Sabin opens his eyes, watching the children – two boys and a girl – chasing each other across the verdant grass of the park he'd decided to take a stroll through. His left foot had gone numb again, forcing him to sit on one of the many park benches available. It has been doing that on and off for months now, the numbness appearing in different areas, then vanishing. He smiles, vaguely remembering what it feels like to be so young. He wonders – for the umpteenth time – where all the time went. He turns his gaze to the children's parents, a young man and woman sitting on a bench across from him. Holding hands, still obviously in love.
He sighs, knowing full well where the time went. Right past him.
He shifts his weight, taking off his shoe and rubbing his foot. He feels a familiar bitterness rising within him. Despite the months that had passed since Vera had...moved on, he hadn't been able to shake the thought that he'd let her get away. He had let her get away. He'd listened to his sister, and to his own doubts, and let his pride and reputation get in the way of his happiness.
He sighs again, the tingling sensation in his foot intensifying, pricking the bottom and side of his foot like dozens of tiny needles. He rubs his foot harder, cursing under his breath. His pride is all he has now, he knows. A lonely companion, that.
He leans back on the bench then, trying to ignore his foot. He spots another couple walking through the park, weaving deftly around the frolicking children. As they draw closer, his heart leaps in his throat.
It's her.
Sabin feels fear grip him, and he bolts upright to leave before she spots him. But his left leg collapses under him, and he falls back onto the bench with a thud. He grimaces, clutching at his left calf, drawing a hissing breath through clenched teeth. The prickly sensation has spread nearly to his knee, and it's profoundly uncomfortable. He tries to rise again...but it's too late.
“Professor?” he hears that melodic voice ask.
He raises his eyes to meet hers, feeling his heart skip a beat. She is achingly beautiful, her gray eyes big and expressive, her lips full. Her hair flows in auburn waves down past her shoulders, all the way down to her buttocks. She is dressed in a simple white dress that hugs her curves tenderly. So perfect in that moment that his pain fades away. So perfect that he wants to weep.
Instead, he forces himself to smile, to feign surprise.
“Vera?” he asks, as if unsure. Another one of the co
nstant stream of lies that makes polite conversation possible. She nods, extending a hand. He tries to rise to shake it, but his leg refuses to move, and he is unable to hide a grimace.
“Professor!” she exclaims, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?” He nods.
“My knee is acting up,” he lies. She steps back, wrapping her hand around the waist of the man standing beside her. The man Sabin has desperately been trying to ignore.
“Professor, this is Ampir,” she introduces. Sabin forces himself to turn to the man, his heart sinking. Tall, young, and handsome, he is every bit the match for Vera. Short brown hair perfectly cropped, with the bluest eyes he has ever seen. Square, strong jaw, muscular shoulders and chest, tanned skin...everything that Sabin is not.
“Professor,” Ampir greets, nodding slightly. Suitably polite, but efficient. The man had a reputation for not wasting words. Though Sabin had never met Ampir, everyone knew his reputation. A prodigy, teaching himself magic at the age of four. By six, weaving patterns no one had ever seen before. Graduating as a full Runic at ten years old, by far the youngest ever to do so. A Battle-Runic before he’d finished puberty. Unbeatable on the battlefield. Unbeatable in the classroom. A man of few words, but not because he was afraid to speak; because he rarely needed to.
And now...
“A shame I only know you by reputation,” Sabin states, knowing that he will never win Vera's heart from this man.
“I enjoyed your research,” Ampir replies. And Sabin can tell that he is telling the truth; he has no need of lies. Lies were for the weak, for losers. A way to save face, or to get something one was incapable of obtaining honestly. Ampir had a reputation for telling people exactly what he thought...and it usually wasn't flattering.
“I'm flattered,” Sabin replies, and despite himself, he means it.
“How close are you to finding the 'void crystal?'” Ampir asks. Sabin sighs, hating that he feels intimidated by this man – still practically a boy, after all – and shrugs.
“The Secula Magna forbids vivisection, even of animals,” he answers. “Until they allow me an exemption, I'm afraid I won't get any closer to finding it.” Ampir considers this for a moment.
“Other governments are more lax,” he replies at last.
“Yes, well,” Sabin counters, a little too icily, “...my tenure is with the Secula Magna.” But Ampir is unfazed.
“Your tenure is wherever you want it to be.”
And that, Sabin knows, is true, though it irks him to admit it. He could get tenure instantaneously at any school in any country in the Empire, and even beyond it. His research is known far and wide, his reputation formidable...if not as awe-inspiring as Ampir's. He could easily continue his research unimpeded elsewhere.
But Stridon is his home.
Sabin says nothing for a long moment, finding himself staring at the ring on his right middle finger. The one he'd earned while the upstart young man in front of him hadn't even reached puberty yet. What right did Ampir have to question him, when he'd already earned the highest honor a Runic could be awarded?
“Oh come on Ampir,” Vera scolds. “You're making the Professor uncomfortable.” Ampir pauses, then nods at her. Turns back to Sabin.
“It was not my intention,” he states. Sabin forces another smile.
“Of course not,” he replies. He turns to Vera then, his expression stony. “What reason would I have to be uncomfortable?”
She stares at him silently, then lowers her gaze to her feet. Pulls on Ampir's arm.
“We should go,” she urges, her eyes flicking back to Sabin's. He sees the hurt there, and immediately regrets his last comment. Now why had he gone and said that? But it was too late to take it back. His heart sinks, and he waves goodbye silently, knowing that she will not go out of her way to see him again.
It was over.
He closes his eyes, refusing to allow himself to watch her leave. He's tortured himself enough. It's time to move on.
He opens his eyes, leaning forward and pushing himself up from the bench. He half-expects his leg to fail him again, but the tingling has subsided somewhat. He stands with the help of his cane, and walks in the opposite direction of Vera and Ampir. Toward the riser at the edge of the floating island in the sky, the one he'd decided to visit today for the first time.
A marvel, this invention of Renval's.
He limps forward slowly, his cane clicking sharply on the cobblestones at his feet. He thinks of Ampir, of a man so powerful that he fears nothing. A man who says what he wants, does what he wants, and doesn't beg for permission. A man who sees what he wants and takes it without hesitation.
If only Sabin could have been that kind of man. If only he had trusted his feelings, and taken what Vera had offered when he'd had the chance. But he'd been weak. Unsure. Hobbled by an insecure mind and a slowly failing body. For all his riches and his reputation, he is still incapable of getting what he truly wants...incapable of conducting his research into the void crystal, and too hesitant in courting Vera. And now they are both dead ends.
He closes his eyes, feeling despair threaten to overcome him. He loathes the feeling, realizing how pathetic he has become. He thinks of Ampir, so young and unblemished by time, his future full of promise. Too young to understand how cruel life can be. How it will eventually wear him down, stealing his strength and his looks, ravaging his body and mind until there is nothing left but distant memories of better days.
Sabin shoves the thought aside, knowing full well it is the self-defeating product of a depressed mind. Thinking like that will only lead to a life filled with regrets. He'd had his fill of those already.
He clenches his jaw, his teeth threatening to crack with the pressure. His knuckles turn white where they grip his cane, and he stops in the middle of the cobblestone pathway, ignoring the people that are forced to walk around him.
No more regrets!
He starts walking again, faster now. He ignores the pain in his knee and the numbness in his foot, walking even faster just to spite them, refusing to let his body stop him this time. He stares straight ahead, ignoring the fragrance in the air, ignoring the sounds of laughter around him. He feels a sudden, exhilarating sense of power, of a momentary mastery over his body and mind, and he revels in it.
Ampir was right, as much as Sabin hates to admit it. His tenure was wherever he wanted it to be. He could have what he wanted, if he was willing. It's too late to win Vera's heart, but it isn't too late to learn from his mistake. In fact, losing Vera might end up being the best thing that ever happened to him.
From now on, he vows, I will get what I want.
Even if he has to take it.
* * *
Kyle sat on the edge of his bed, picking at his fingernails anxiously. It'd been over an hour since Kalibar had left the suite, canceling his next meeting to track Ariana down so that he could talk to her. Kyle wondered if Kalibar had found her, and for the umpteenth time, he imagined how Kalibar's conversation with her had gone. She would instantly know of Kyle's betrayal if Kalibar found her outside the Gate shield. And she would be furious.
He'd never betrayed Ariana before. Their relationship had always been one of complete trust. How would Ariana feel about him now that he'd done this to her?
Kyle pushed himself off of the edge of the bed, pacing back and forth across his bedroom floor. His gravity boots clicked sharply on the marble below, squeaking with each pivot he made. He cursed himself, wishing that he hadn't told Kalibar anything. Or that Kalibar hadn't come in for lunch right after Ariana had left. If Ariana had been there with him, he never would have broken down. But then he would have ended up betraying Kalibar.
There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Kalibar stepped through, motioning for Kyle to follow him out of the bedroom. Kyle did so, stepping into the main suite. Kyle stopped dead in his tracks; Ariana was sitting on one of the couches, and she looked furious. It was all he could do to continue forward, silently obeying Kalib
ar's gesture for him to sit opposite Ariana. Kyle kept his eyes downcast, staring at his knees, but feeling Ariana's eyes boring into him. Kalibar sat down next to Ariana, facing Kyle.
“I told Ariana about our discussion,” Kalibar stated. “And Ariana was kind enough to tell me her perspective,” he added. “While I know it hasn't been easy for either of you, I do appreciate your honesty.”
He paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully.
“I understand that what you did – what you planned to do – was with the best of intentions. As your father, I am – as I have always been – proud of the depth of your character, and your willingness to do right by the ones you love. I want you both to know that you can always be honest and open with me. That as a family, we have to be open and honest with each other.”
“I also want you to trust that, no matter my particular weakness – my desire to protect you above all else – that I am capable of rising above this, of doing what is right.” He sighed then. “I suppose it is every fathers' fear that his children will leave him, to go out into the world with all of its dangers, and that he will no longer be able to protect them.”
Kalibar stopped then, turning to face Ariana, and Kyle looked up at the old man, unable to help a glance at her in the process. Her eyes were downcast, to his relief. Dark, brooding, and angry...but they were no longer on him.
“My duty to you – and to the Empire – is to protect you,” Kalibar continued firmly. “But I recognize that this is no longer possible.” He patted Ariana's knee gently, turning back to Kyle. “Ampir is dead. Sabin is too powerful for us to resist.”
Kyle cleared his throat, but Kalibar stopped him from speaking with one outstretched palm.
“I have two options now,” Kalibar stated. “Diplomacy is all that I can offer the Empire, personally. I will invite Sabin to discuss the terms of a truce.”
“What!” Kyle blurted out. Ariana's eyes jerked up from the floor, and she stared at Kalibar incredulously.