by Clayton Wood
“Erasmus!” Kyle exclaimed. The old man nodded grimly, stepping away from the guard he'd been talking to and walking up to Kyle and Ariana. “Is Kalibar...?”
“He's fine, thank goodness,” Erasmus replied, his voice clearly shaken. “He's in the bedroom with Darius, examining the body,” he added. Kyle frowned.
“Wait, what body?” he asked.
“The assassin's body,” Erasmus answered. “Somehow the fool managed to get past my wards, although how, I have no idea. We found his body a few feet from Kalibar's bed.”
“Is Kalibar hurt?” Kyle pressed. Erasmus shook his head, putting an arm around Kyle's shoulders.
“Not a scratch on him,” Erasmus answered. “Can't say the same for the bastard on the floor, though. Seems he lost his head.”
Suddenly the door to Kalibar's bedroom opened, a tall, fit-looking man in a plain black shirt and pants striding through. With his characteristic white military-short hair and neatly trimmed goatee, it was no mistaking who stood before them – even with the golden double-eyepatches covering his empty eye sockets.
“Kalibar!” Kyle cried, rushing forward. Kalibar hesitated, then smiled broadly, extending his arms to the sides. Kyle leaped into the old man's arms, burying his head into Kalibar's shoulder. A normal man – especially a blind one – would have been knocked clean off his feet, but Kalibar didn't even budge. The man was a master-level Weaver, perhaps the most skilled practitioner of magic in the Empire. Kalibar held Kyle for a moment, then gently pushed him away.
“Where is Ariana?” he asked. Ariana stepped forward, and before she could say anything, Kalibar inclined his head toward her, no doubt sensing the magic inside of her. Ever since Kalibar had lost his vision, his sense of magic had become more powerful; he had admitted to Kyle that he could feel the unique magical “signature” that each person radiated, allowing him to know exactly who was nearby...if they were close enough.
“I'm here,” Ariana replied, stepping in to give Kalibar a hug. “What happened?” she asked. Kalibar sighed.
“We're still trying to figure that out,” he admitted. “We know that an assassin – dressed in a guard's uniform – managed to get into my room. I nearly killed myself falling over his body when I got up this morning,” he added with a wry grin. Erasmus snorted.
“That would've been a trip,” the portly Grand Runic quipped, his blue eyes twinkling. “Killed by a decapitated assassin...imagine the obituary!”
“That's another mystery,” Kalibar stated. “First he managed to get inside my room without triggering any of my wards, and then he was killed before he ever reached me...but again, not by any of my wards. It doesn't make any sense.”
“Damn right it doesn't,” Erasmus grumbled. “Nothing could've gotten past those wards without tripping them. Hell, a gnat couldn't have made it into your room,” he added, clearly frustrated. And for good reason; most of the wards protecting Kalibar had been designed by Erasmus himself, a Runic of formidable talent. The Grand Runic was obviously unsettled by the idea that his handiwork had proven inadequate to the task.
“It's not your fault, old friend,” Kalibar stated, putting a hand out toward Erasmus. Kalibar's enhanced magical senses weren't perfect – Erasmus was too far away to touch – but Erasmus stepped forward so that Kalibar's hand landed on his shoulder.
“Bullshit,” Erasmus retorted. “It's all my fault, and you know it!” Kalibar smirked at that.
“Fine, it's all your fault, you old hack,” the Grand Weaver replied. “I was just trying to make you feel better. You're fired, by the way,” he added. Erasmus snorted.
“Oh, go walk out a window,” he shot back, swatting Kalibar's hand from his shoulder. “This from a guy who nearly broke a hip tripping over a dead man!” But he couldn't help chuckling, and soon the two were laughing merrily – to the supreme discomfort of the guards around them. After all, the two were the most powerful and respected men in the Empire; hearing them gleefully insult each other had to be quite jarring for those that weren't used to it. Kyle grinned; he'd grown to love the two men dearly, though he'd known both for less than a month.
“Hey, where's Darius?” Kyle asked. He'd assumed that Kalibar's personal bodyguard would've been here by now. Erasmus nodded toward Kalibar's bedroom door.
“He's inside, inspecting the body,” the Grand Runic replied jovially. “Cheery bastard, isn't he?” he added with a wink. Kyle smirked; Darius was many things, but cheery wasn't one of them. Rude, callous, abrupt, and insulting, sure, but never cheery. Erasmus had grown quite fond of needling the bodyguard every chance he got...and Darius, never being one to respect rank or privilege, gave as good as he got, much to the horror of the other guards.
“Can we see?” Ariana pressed. Even though they were still technically children, Kyle and Ariana had already seen their fair share of corpses, and unlike on Earth, exposure to the unfortunate realities of life at a young age was heartily encouraged here.
“Of course,” Kalibar replied. He led the way, turning about and walking unerringly back to his bedroom door. Erasmus had spent the better part of a day setting various runes about Kalibar's room, marking the location of obstacles and important destinations. Kalibar could quite literally feel the entire suite, navigating through his domain as quickly and safely as any other man. At Kalibar's touch, his bedroom door opened, and they all stepped inside.
Kalibar's bedroom was large by any standard, with a comparatively modest-sized four-post bed set back against the wall. The floor was made of polished granite, two-story tall windows allowing the sun's rays to glitter off of the opulent surface. A few feet from the bed, a man in glimmering, golden armor knelt, staring down at a black-armored form lying motionless on the floor. The armored man glanced up as Kyle entered, staring with his startlingly blue eyes. It was Darius, of course...and as usual, he looked remarkably bored.
“What have you found?” Kalibar asked the bodyguard, stopping a healthy distance from the body.
“He's dead,” Darius replied, rising to his feet. The man was tall – taller even than Kalibar – and despite the armor covering him from his chest downward, it was clear that he wasn't lacking in the muscle department. Erasmus snorted.
“Hot damn, somebody give that man a raise,” the Grand Runic quipped, walking up to Darius and clapping him on the shoulder with a metallic clang. “Not only that, I think we'll add 'Royal Coroner' to his title,” he added with sly grin. Darius's expression, as usual, didn't change.
“Nice wards,” the bodyguard growled back. Erasmus froze, looking shell-shocked. Then he gave Darius a murderous glare.
“Insolent swine,” he grumbled. “Why can't you hire a proper bodyguard, Kalibar?”
Kalibar ignored the two, his expression one of practiced patience. Darius, in turn, ignored Erasmus, turning back to Kalibar.
“Decapitated, probably an hour ago,” he stated at last. “Wound was cauterized, no bleeding. Uniform stolen from one of ours...we found another body downstairs.”
“So it wasn't a rogue elite guard,” Kalibar deduced.
“Not likely,” Darius agreed. Kalibar's shoulders visibly relaxed at that. Much of his and Erasmus's time had been spent pouring through the ranks of their guards, ensuring that none were secretly agents of Xanos. Not a single impostor had been found, much to their frustration. Except of course for the man who'd killed Rivin and Bartholos; he'd been an elite guard for over a decade, biding his time until the order had come to strike. Xanos apparently planned for the long-term.
“Any clue as to how he got past my wards?” Kalibar asked.
“Nope,” Darius answered. Erasmus frowned, no doubt having expected the bodyguard to insult him again, and having come up with a particularly clever retort that he couldn't use. Darius ignored the Grand Runic, but Kyle noticed the corner of the bodyguard's mouth twitch. The two really were insufferable; much to Erasmus's ire, Darius had consistently proven the more skillful opponent. The man was a master at combat, whether with words or weapon
s.
“Ass,” Erasmus grumbled.
“Without knowing how he got in, it'll be impossible to prevent it again,” Kalibar observed, ignoring the two men. “And we still don't know who – or what – killed the assassin before he managed to kill me.”
“Agreed,” Erasmus stated, his expression sour. “None of this makes any sense. We're missing something, Kalibar.”
At that moment, a man in a white cloak strode into the bedroom, flanked by a few of Kalibar's guards. He was quite old, at least seventy by Kyle's estimation, with gaunt, smooth-shaven cheeks contrasting with his quick and calculating brown eyes. He was Jax, the eldest Council member, appointed leader of the twelve-member group that wielded power second only to Erasmus and Kalibar. He ignored the body on the ground, nodding curtly at Kalibar and Erasmus.
“Good morning, Excellencies,” he greeted, putting a wrinkled hand on Kalibar's shoulder.
“Good morning, Jax,” Kalibar replied.
“We've locked down the Tower,” Jax stated crisply. “The top ten floors have been evacuated. As of now, no risers will go past the thirtieth floor,” he added. “Not until we figure out how this happened.”
“Yes, well,” Erasmus replied, rubbing his bald head sheepishly. Jax was one of the few Runics alive more skilled than Erasmus. If anyone would know how the assassin had gotten past Erasmus's wards, it would be Jax. “Any ideas?” Erasmus asked.
“Your wards were excellent,” Jax replied authoritatively. “I myself would not have been able to breach them.”
“Which can only mean one thing,” Kalibar said with a sigh.
“Xanos,” Jax agreed. Kyle felt a chill run down his spine. It could have been no other. The self-proclaimed god had power far beyond their understanding.
“I can't defend Kalibar against a god!” Erasmus protested, clearly frustrated. “If Xanos can get an assassin within a foot of his bed, what's to stop him from killing us all in our sleep?”
“Nothing,” Jax replied darkly. Kalibar frowned.
“Except I'm not dead,” he countered. Jax and Erasmus turned to look at him. “Erasmus, your wards failed, but the fact remains...the assassin is dead, and I'm not. Which means something was protecting me.”
“Good point,” Erasmus admitted. They all turned to stare at Kyle. Or more precisely, the ring on Kyle's left thumb. Kyle felt his face flush, and he lowered his gaze to the floor.
“We need to redouble our efforts to decode that ring,” Jax stated. “And duplicate it. It may be the only real defense we'll have against our enemy.”
“Agreed,” Erasmus said. “Everything else – the guards, the wards...hell, even our armies – is pointless against Xanos. He could walk one of his Chosen straight through ten legions of infantry and destroy them all!”
“Don't remind me,” Kalibar grumbled. He'd been spending most of his days planning the mobilization of the Empire's vast military, preparing for any assault against Stridon and the Empire's other key cities. Doing so had put him at odds with the Council; each Councilman owned four legions – each containing 10,000 men – of the Empire's military. Any use of military force required authorization by the Council by a majority vote. Getting them to agree to Kalibar's strategies had taken a monumental effort...and as Erasmus had so bluntly stated, that effort had likely been for naught.
“That reminds me,” Jax stated. “The Council is requesting a debriefing regarding this assassination attempt...and they're eager to hear how the attack on the Death Weaver base on Crescent Isle went.”
“Of course,” Kalibar replied. “I assume they'd rather not meet here,” he added wryly. Jax smirked.
“Corpses don't bother me,” the elder Councilman replied, “...but I doubt such a symbol of our failure would work to our advantage with the rest of the Council.” Kyle noticed Erasmus's eyes falling to stare at the floor. The Grand Runic was taking the matter of his wards harder than Kyle had thought. “We could use the War room,” Jax offered. Kalibar nodded in agreement.
“Convene them in the War room then,” Kalibar replied. “Lead the way,” he added. Jax placed one hand on Kalibar's back, walking side-by-side with the Grand Weaver out of the bedroom. Erasmus followed close behind. Kalibar paused at the doorway, turning back toward Kyle.
“You'd better come too, Kyle,” he said. “You too, Darius.” Then he resumed walking.
“Can I come?” Ariana asked. Kalibar nodded.
“Of course.”
With that, they left the room, leaving the headless corpse of the assassin laying on the ground. Kyle glanced back, and noticed the man's severed head laying on its side a few feet from the body. He stifled a shudder.
The dead man's eyes were staring right back at him.
Chapter 3
The twelve members of the Council sat around the huge, circular table in the center of the War room. Kalibar and Erasmus sat side-by-side at one end of the table, Jax at the other, the eleven other Councilmen positioned in-between. They were all older men and women, seasoned politicians that had risen through the ranks to become the most powerful people in the Empire, save for Kalibar and Erasmus. As in the United States, they were split into two parties, the Populists and the Elitists. The Populists championed policies that supposedly favored the lower classes, making them popular amongst much of the populace. The Elitists tended to favor the rich and powerful. Each believed themselves to be possessed of the Truth, and saw the other party as being obviously wrongheaded in their views. From what Kyle could tell, Kalibar tended toward Populist ideals, while Erasmus was an Elitist. Somehow, the two managed to respect each other’s differences, unlike the rest of the Council.
The meeting had begun with Kalibar recounting his tale of what happened earlier that morning. When he'd finished, an older Councilman wearing black robes sitting next to Jax leaned his elbows on the table, frowning at Kalibar. He was, Kyle knew, Councilman Goran, the most senior Elitist on the Council. With jet-black hair slicked back over his head, and a full, trimmed beard, he was a handsome and imposing figure. He also seemed to hate Kalibar – and by extension, Erasmus.
“I don't understand,” Goran said, his deep voice booming across the table. “How did the assassin get into your bedroom?” He glanced at Erasmus, then turned his gaze back to Kalibar. “Weren't your rooms warded, Grand Weaver?” Erasmus glared at Goran, and leaned forward to respond, but Kalibar stopped him with a hand on Erasmus's arm.
“They were, Councilman Goran,” Kalibar answered calmly. “None of the wards had been set off by the assassin,” he added. Goran sat back in his chair, clearly unconvinced.
“That's hard to believe,” he stated. “Unless of course the wards were deactivated somehow,” he added. Even Kyle knew that runic wards could only be deactivated by the person who made them, at least if they were going to be deactivated quickly. It was a dig at Erasmus.
“They weren't deactivated,” Kalibar replied. “The wards were still active when I woke.”
“So unless our assassin deactivated them, then reactivated them before getting decapitated, so that he'd have to deactivate them again in order to escape before being caught...” Erasmus shot back, “...then your theory doesn't add up.” Goran frowned at Erasmus.
“No need to get defensive, your Excellency,” he stated. “I understand your point, but if you're right, and the runes weren't deactivated first, then how did the assassin get to Kalibar in the first place?” A few of the other Councilmen nodded in agreement. It was an excellent point – and one that Erasmus couldn't refute. With his wards active, a gnat couldn't have gotten into the room without being instantly destroyed.
“We still don't know,” Kalibar admitted.
“Is it possible that someone deactivated the wards for the assassin?” Goran asked. “And then reactivated them after the assassin died, but before Kalibar woke?”
“It's possible,” Jax piped in, nodding at Goran. “In fact, it's the only plausible scenario.”
“But that would require someone with intimate
knowledge of those wards, to deactivate them so quickly,” Goran continued, glancing at Erasmus again.
“Why don't you just say it?” Erasmus shot back, glaring at Goran. But Goran's eyebrows rose, and he looked genuinely surprised.
“Say what?” he asked. “I'm merely suggesting that there may have been two assassins, one with knowledge of your wards. A man on the inside...a traitor.”
“A disturbing possibility,” one of the other Councilmen agreed.
“But why would this traitor reactivate the wards to hide his tracks, only to leave the body of the assassin?” Kalibar asked.
“Perhaps to send us a message,” Jax replied grimly.
“That our defenses are useless?” Goran asked. Jax nodded. Goran shook his head. “Then why not finish the job? That would have sent an even more powerful message.”
“Agreed,” Jax replied. “No offense, Grand Weaver.”
“None taken,” Kalibar stated. “I agree with you, Goran,” he added. The statement made Erasmus's face change colors; the fiery Grand Runic hated Goran with a passion, and for good reason. While Goran always managed to appear reasonable, and never outright insulted Erasmus or Kalibar – or the other Populists – he was a consummate politician, able to insinuate, manipulate, and aggravate while remaining maddeningly blameless. Erasmus fell for Goran's tricks all the time, constantly trying to catch Goran in the act, and Goran took full advantage of that. Their interactions inevitably left the Grand Runic appearing impulsive, hotheaded, and paranoid...when only the first two were accurate.
“Well the assassin didn't just up and kill himself,” Erasmus grumbled. “So either this imaginary accomplice killed him, or someone else did.”
