by Clayton Wood
And in his right hand was a long, bloodstained machete.
“Rasli cov,” the man growled, shoving Kyle's chest, then pointing to the base of the hill. He stared fiercely at Kyle, and Kyle lowered his gaze, feeling sweat trickle down his armpits to his flanks. He swallowed, staring at the ground.
I'm going to die, he realized. They're going to kill me.
The man in front of him stared at him for a moment longer, then turned about, striding up to the base of the hill, to a large bush there. He dropped to his hands and knees, crawling into the bush, and disappeared. Kyle felt something hit his back a third time, and he caught his balance this time, twisting around to find another man – dressed the same as the first, but with long black hair and a beard – glaring at him. The man gestured for Kyle to move forward, toward the bush.
“Rasli cov!” he yelled. “Rasli cov!”
Kyle glanced at Ariana's body, still lying on the plank, then turned around, taking a deep breath in, then stepping forward. He made his way toward the bush at the base of the hill, stopping before it. The man behind him kicked him in the back of the legs, dropping him onto his knees in the dirt. The man gestured toward the bush again, making crawling motions with his hands. Kyle nodded, lowering himself onto his belly. With his hands still bound, he had to bow his head down, pushing the prickly branches aside with his head. They scraped at his scalp and ears, and he ignored the discomfort, pushing forward. He'd crawled a few feet when his hands dipped into a hole in the dirt. He paused, lifting his bound wrists to feel around the perimeter of the hole. It was a few feet in diameter, at most.
“Rasli cov,” the man behind him urged.
Kyle continued forward into the hole, which was at a 45-degree angle down into the hillside. It soon became almost pitch-black, the edges of the hole barely visible. Still he continued, sneezing at the musty odor of the dirt kicked up by his elbows. Then his hands struck something cool and hard...it felt like metal. He heard a click, followed by a screeching sound from beyond. Then a sliver of light appeared before him, and he realized he was laying in front of a round metal door. The door swung outward away from him, letting more light in.
“Cov,” the man behind him ordered.
Kyle grabbed the edge of the door frame – also metal – and pulled himself forward, using his legs to push himself through. He grunted as his head and chest swung forward and down, and he fell onto his forearms on a dark wooden floor below. He felt hands grab him, pulling him all the way through the doorway and up onto his feet. It was the man he'd seen crawl into the bush first, the one with the machete.
“Cov,” the man said, pointing ahead. Kyle paused, getting his bearings. He was in a small room, the floor made of wide, dark brown wooden boards. The walls were constructed of larger beams of the same material, with gray stone columns at each corner. The ceiling was surprisingly tall, maybe eight feet, and made of large, crisscrossing wooden beams. The tribesman ahead of him slapped him on the shoulder, pointing again toward the far side of the room, toward an archway there. Kyle heard a scraping sound, and saw two dark legs dangle out of the tunnel. It was the second tribesman, the one who'd been behind him. He dropped to the floor, then reached his arms back into the tunnel, pulling two pale legs through. He gave one jerk, then another, and a limp body fell from the tunnel onto the floor with a loud thud. It was, Kyle realized, Ariana.
“Cov!” the first tribesman barked, slapping Kyle on the shoulder, harder this time. Kyle nodded, glancing one last time at Ariana before walking across the room to the archway on the other side. He stepped through, the other men following behind him, and found himself in a wide hallway. The walls and ceiling were constructed of the same material as the room before. There were three doorways on either side, each with a long piece of black cloth hanging from a rod near the ceiling. At the end of the hallway was a real door – made of black strips of wood – and it was to this that the tribesmen ushered Kyle. Machete – that's what Slim would have named him – pushed ahead of Kyle and strode up to the door, knocking on it with a rapid series of taps. It opened, and Kyle was led through.
He found himself in a small room, perhaps ten feet square. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of thin strips of the same black, woody material he'd seen on the door. In the center of the room was a woman sitting cross-legged on the bare floor, her eyes closed. She was wearing a black uniform that looked like it was made of the same stuff as the walls; it covered her from her feet all the way up to her neck. It was remarkably form-fitting, so much so that Kyle found himself looking away to one side, his cheeks flushing; the woman was quite beautiful, with the same dark skin as the tribesmen, black eyebrows arching over her closed eyes. She too had tattoos covering her, crawling up the sides of her neck and temples in intricate patterns. But she also had thin, raised scars that extended from the sides of her neck upward, splitting into multiple scars that crawled across her temples like the bones of a bat's wing. She had thick black hair pulled into a ponytail, a few loose strands falling across her face. Her skintight black uniform made it quite clear that she was rather astoundingly feminine, with proportions above and below that threatened to burst free of the fabric that confined them.
He heard a clicking sound, and turned to find Machete closing the door behind them. The tribesman motioned for Kyle to turn back around to face the woman, and he did so, trying unsuccessfully not to stare.
Then he felt cold steel on the back of his neck.
He flinched, and tried to turn around, but the other tribesman – the one with the long hair and beard – reached up and forcibly twisted his head back to face the woman sitting on the floor.
She opened her eyes, focusing on Kyle.
“Lee yog no?” she asked, her dark eyes never leaving him. Kyle shrugged helplessly.
“I can't understand you,” he said. He reached into his mind’s eye, finding a little magic there, and send some to his earring. The woman uncrossed her legs, then stood up in one graceful motion. She was surprisingly tall and slender, and once again Kyle found himself staring. She walked up to him, stopping a few feet away.
“You say he used magic in the forest?” she asked, putting a hand to the side of his face. Her uniform extended to her fingertips, the black material rough against his skin. Kyle swallowed in a dry throat, staring down at his bare feet. He realized that he wasn't wearing his boots. “He has magic even now.”
Kyle kept his gaze downward, considering his options. Ariana had to be just outside. Whoever this woman was, she was probably a better Weaver than him. He’d have no chance against her in a fair fight, but Ariana certainly would. If he could launch a surprise attack and get to Ariana, then stream magic to her...
“We found these,” the hairy tribesman said, handing the woman a large tan sack. She took it, pulling out his gravity boots. She stared at them for a long moment, turning away from Kyle and walking back into the center of the room. He saw a faint blue light appear at her forehead, saw it shoot toward the crystals in his boots.
“Simple,” the woman murmured. “But elegant.” She set the boots on the floor next to her, then reached into the sack again, pulling out Kyle's Aegis. This she stared at for a much longer time, silently turning it over and over in her hands. Then she placed in on the floor, turning to face Kyle.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, gesturing at the Aegis.
Kyle said nothing. If he spoke, she would understand him now, and she’d realize that he could understand her.
She repeated the question, in a different language – the earring’s interpretation was the same, but her lips moved differently – but still he said nothing.
“Either he doesn’t understand us,” Machete stated, “...or he won’t answer.”
The woman stared at Kyle for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then she nodded at Machete.
“Take him outside,” she stated. “Burn the girl’s body. I’ll finish this boy.”
Kyle felt hands grab him from behind, and he lunge
d forward out of their grasp, shaking his head.
“No, wait!” he cried. The woman arched an eyebrow.
“You can understand us,” she murmured. “Speak again.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked. The woman frowned.
“I can understand you,” she stated. “But your lips do not form the words I hear. How is this possible?” Kyle grimaced, realizing he’d been tricked.
“My earring,” he muttered. “It's a universal translator.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and he found it hard to look back at her. She was painfully attractive, in an exotic sort of way. She pointed back to the Aegis.
“This is yours?”
“It is,” he confirmed. She seemed taken aback by this.
“You made it?”
“Uh, no,” Kyle admitted. “It's two thousand years old, it was made by powerful Runics.”
“Who would give such a thing to a boy?” she demanded. Kyle shrugged.
“It was a gift.”
“This is common where you come from?” she pressed, again pointing to the Aegis. Kyle shook his head.
“No, it's very rare,” he admitted. “My boots are common there,” he added. She seemed relieved by this.
“Your boots are simple,” she agreed. Then she cocked her head at him. “Where do you come from?”
“The Empire.”
“Where is that?” she inquired.
“East, across the ocean.”
“Why are you here?”
Kyle blinked, taken aback by the sudden change of subject. He felt the cold edge of Machete's blade against the back of his neck, felt it press harder into his flesh. He swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. What could he say? If he told them a lie, they'd know it. He was terrible at lying, especially in the heat of the moment. But if he told them the truth, they might kill him anyway.
“We were looking for something,” he answered at last. The woman's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“My, uh, friend,” he stammered. “She wanted to meet someone in the Barrens.”
“Your friend?” she pressed. “The dead girl?”
“She's not dead,” Kyle corrected. “I mean, she's...well, she looks dead, but she's not. Not really.”
“She is dead,” the woman countered. “Tavek says she has no pulse,” she added, pointing to the bearded tribesman.
“She doesn't have a pulse,” Kyle agreed. “She lives on magic.” The woman frowned, then crossed her arms under her bosom.
“Show me,” she ordered, nodding at Tavek.
“Yes Petra,” Tavek replied. He turned and opened the door, walking out of the room and closing it immediately behind him. A few moments later, the door opened again, and Tavek walked in, Ariana draped over his shoulder. He dropped Ariana gently down onto the floor, then stepped back. The woman – Petra – knelt down over Ariana, putting her fingers to Ariana's throat. Then she stood.
“This girl is dead,” she declared. But Kyle barely heard her. For he saw faint tendrils of blue light leaking from the woman's scalp, pulling down toward Ariana's forehead.
She's still alive, he realized, his pulse quickening. Just a little more magic, and she would awaken...and then Petra wouldn’t stand a chance.
“How can you say she is alive?” Petra demanded. Then Ariana's eyes twitched, fluttering open.
Petra swore, backing away from Ariana, her eyes widening. Kyle paused, then slowly stepped toward Ariana, feeling Machete's blade still at his neck. He put his hands up, trying to look as innocent as possible. A few feet away, Ariana groaned, her left leg jerking once. Then her arms spasmed. Her eyes widened, and then she turned her head to the side, staring right at Kyle.
“Kyle!” she exclaimed.
“Ariana...” Kyle replied, dashing forward toward her. He heard Machete yell, felt strong hands grab onto his shoulders, yanking him backward. He froze. “Okay, okay! I won't move.”
“Kyle, what's going on?” Ariana asked, pushing herself up to sit on the floor. “What happened?” Tavek walked up to her, jabbing his spear toward her chest.
“Don’t move!” he exclaimed, glaring at her. Ariana glared at him, then grabbed the point of his spear in one hand, shoving it back. Tavek flew backward, slamming into the wall behind him, his spear falling to the floor with a clatter. He landed in a heap on the floor, groaning in pain.
“Stop!” Petra ordered. Ariana glared at Tavek, then turned to Machete, who was striding toward her. He stopped in his tracks, glancing at Petra. “Leave her be,” Petra stated. Ariana turned to Kyle.
“Where are we?” she asked. “Who are these people?”
“I think they're the Barren tribes,” Kyle answered. “We lost our magic somehow, and we fell into the forest. These people captured us and brought us here.”
“You trespassed on our land,” Petra countered coldly. “You’re lucky that I’ve let you live this long.” She glanced at Ariana. “I sense magic in her,” she observed. “Tell her I will examine her.”
“She wants to examine you,” Kyle told Ariana. “She's a Weaver,” he added.
“I know,” Ariana replied. “I can understand her.” Kyle blinked, taken aback. How could Ariana understand Petra? Ariana didn't have an earring like Kyle, after all. He was about to ask when Ariana stopped him with one outstretched hand, shaking her head. “Does she understand me?”
“What is she saying?” Petra asked.
“She's asking if you can understand her,” Kyle replied. He couldn't very well lie, after all...if Petra could understand Ariana, he'd be caught red-handed. Although it was clear from Petra's tone that she probably couldn't. Ariana's shard must have a universal translator of sorts in it, he realized. It only appeared to work one-way, however, allowing her to understand everyone, but not the other way around.
“I cannot,” Petra answered.
“Tell her that if anyone attacks us again, it’ll be the last thing they do,” Ariana stated, glaring at Petra. Kyle glanced at Petra, then back at Ariana. Escalating the situation hardly seemed like a good idea. They could always fight Petra if they had to...but so far they hadn’t really been harmed.
“She’s says it’s okay to examine her,” Kyle lied, nodding at Petra. Ariana’s eyes widened, and she glared at him, but Petra was already walking up to her. The tribeswoman stared at her intently, then reached out, pressing her fingers onto the side of Ariana's neck. Ariana stiffened, but didn’t resist.
“She has no pulse,” Petra observed with disbelief, dropping her hand to her side. She twisted her torso to look at Kyle, her profile so remarkable that Kyle couldn't help but gawk. He blushed, turning away; looking at this woman was like looking at the sun...impossible to do for long without dire consequences. “You told the truth.”
“I did,” Kyle agreed, hoping Ariana didn't notice the source of his embarrassment.
“She is between life and death?” Petra pressed. Kyle nodded, turning to Ariana. It was better that Petra didn’t know that Ariana could understand her without him translating. “She's asking if you're uh...between life and death.”
“I am,” Ariana confirmed. Kyle translated for her. Petra’s brows furrowed.
“How is she kept like this?” she asked. Kyle glanced at Ariana, who nodded slightly.
“She has a...crystal,” Kyle answered, pointing to his forehead. “In here, under the skin. It keeps her alive.”
Petra took a sharp breath in, backing away from Ariana quickly. Her eyes widened, her jaw going slack.
“She is an Immortal!” she exclaimed. Tavek – having struggled to his feet and reclaimed his spear – stared at Ariana in disbelief, as did Machete. “She is from below?” Petra pressed. “From the Void?”
“You know about the Void?” Kyle asked, taken aback. Petra nodded.
“The Immortals are born from it,” she stated. “Deep in the earth, in the cave of our ancestors below the mountain.”
“You know where these caves are?” Kyle pressed, his heart skipp
ing a beat. She had to mean Mount Grimore...and the caves, the Void, might lead them right to Sabin!
“Of course.”
“We came to take her there,” Kyle stated, feeling a sudden burst of hope. If these people knew where the entrance to Sabin's lair was, they could lead Kyle and Ariana right to it. “Can you help us?”
“If she is truly an Immortal,” Petra agreed. She frowned then. “The Barrens do not remove magic from the Immortals,” she added. “How is it that she was drained?”
“I don't know,” Kyle replied, his mind racing to come up with a reason, but finding none. “She was...uh...born just a few weeks ago, and lost her memory.”
“I see,” Petra murmured. To Kyle's dismay, she didn't seem convinced. She turned to face Kyle. “If she is an Immortal, of course I will help her return to her kind. But she must prove herself first.”
“Ask her how,” Ariana stated.
“How?” he asked.
“We will take her to the mouth of the cave, and she must walk into it and retrieve a Void crystal from within. Only an Immortal can do this.”
“What cave?” Ariana asked. Kyle translated for her.
“A cave distant from the one that leads to the Void,” Petra replied. “Those who walk into it share the same fate as those who attempt to enter the Void.”
“What happens, exactly?” Kyle pressed.
“Anyone who walks into the cave dies within minutes. Only an Immortal can survive. If you return, you will have proven your nature. If you don't, you will be dead.”
Kyle glanced at Ariana, who stared back at him. If anyone who ventured into the caves died except for the Immortals – or rather, the Chosen – then what would happen when he tried to go into them? He still had to detonate the bomb as close to Sabin as possible...and the only way to be sure was to detonate the bomb in the cave. There was no way to know how far from the cave entrance Sabin's lair was, after all. It couldn't possibly be more than five miles, though – half the diameter of the bomb's blast. Or could it?