by Clayton Wood
“I suppose that's that,” Kalibar muttered. He rubbed his eyes wearily, then ran his fingers through his hair, resting his elbows on the table. He suddenly looked much older than his sixty-odd years. He said nothing for a long time, staring at the table absently, a far-away look in his eyes. Then he sighed again, leaning back in his chair. He stared at Kyle then.
“What?” Kyle asked.
“I'm still confused,” Kalibar admitted. “I don't understand why Ampir brought you here...why he gave you his ring, why he sent you his memories, why he protected you.” Kyle shrugged, the urge to hide Ampir’s true identity almost reflexive at this point. But he resisted the urge to lie; Kalibar deserved to know the truth.
“I'm his grandson.”
Kalibar's jaw dropped.
Kyle lowered his gaze, feeling Kalibar's eyes on him.
“My dad on Earth,” Kyle explained. “He's Ampir's son, like in the dreams. Ampir sent him to Earth.”
“Kyle, that doesn't make any sense,” Kalibar protested. “It's been two thousand years since...” He trailed off then, his mouth working silently. Then he turned to Kyle. “Time!” he exclaimed, slapping his forehead with one palm. “Of course, I'm such a fool!”
“What?”
“You were gone for a week, but that was only a few hours for you,” Kalibar said to himself. “If a seventh of a day equals seven days here, that's forty-nine days here for every week...two thousand years divided by forty-nine...that's...” He frowned for a moment. “Forty-odd years.” He turned to Kyle then. “How old is your father?”
“Forty-three.”
“Of course!” Kalibar exclaimed, slamming one fist into his palm. “It all makes sense now...how didn't I see this earlier?” Kyle just stared at him, amazed that Kalibar's keen intellect had almost instantly deduced the answer...something Kyle would never have been able to do. Kalibar shook his head. “The dreams, your ring...your ability to see magic.”
“Wait, how...?”
“Master Lee told Erasmus,” Kalibar answered. “And Erasmus told me.”
“I didn't mean to keep it a secret,” Kyle stated apologetically. “I didn't even realize it until...” But Kalibar waved that away.
“I know,” he replied. “You told me yourself that gravity shields were blue the first time you saw them, and like a fool I insisted they weren't. I should have been more observant. The answers were in front of me all along.”
“You're not mad at me?”
“No, I'm not mad at you, Kyle.” Kalibar replied. He smiled then. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I know it must have been hard for you, to keep such awful secrets.”
Kyle nodded silently.
“Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah,” Kyle answered. And it was true; he felt lighter somehow, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But that relief was tempered by the knowledge that Sabin was out there, waiting to attack...and that there was no one left to protect them. Indeed, Kalibar's expression grew serious, and he drew in a deep breath, then let it out.
“Ampir is dead,” he stated flatly. “How?”
“He found Sabin's lair,” Kyle replied. “He said he was going to kill Sabin...that if he wasn't back in 24 hours, then he'd failed.” He cleared his throat. “Died.”
“Okay,” Kalibar said. “We must assume Ampir is dead.” He tapped his goatee with one finger. “We're on our own now.”
“Yeah.”
“If Sabin beat Ampir,” Kalibar continued, “...then we have no chance of beating him with force. That means diplomacy is all we have.” He shook his head. “Marcus – my mentor – told me that once. 'Violence is the recourse of a failed diplomat.'” He sighed. “Marcus never agreed with my emphasis on war,” he admitted. “He said I used an army of thousands when one man would have sufficed.”
“You're going to try to reason with Sabin?” Kyle asked incredulously. Kalibar shrugged.
“What other choice do I have?” he countered. “Erasmus and the Council believe that we can beat Sabin – Xanos – with patterns we derive from the K-Array. But the Ancients knew these patterns – and so many more – two thousand years ago. Sabin has had millennia to build his knowledge and power past anything we could ever match.”
“Yeah,” Kyle muttered. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I asked Ampir to bring you all to Earth,” he admitted. “If he wasn't able to kill Sabin.”
“You did?”
“I wanted to save you,” Kyle confirmed.
“Thank you,” Kalibar replied with a smile. “What did Ampir say?”
“He said if he failed, then...” He stopped, remembering exactly what he'd said.
They’ll die.
“Yes?”
“He left me a weapon,” Kyle stated, changing the subject. Kalibar's eyebrows rose.
“What kind of weapon?”
Kyle described the bomb to Kalibar, then told the Grand Weaver his and Ariana's plan to use it on Sabin's lair. Kalibar remained silent throughout, listening in his usual careful way. When Kyle had finished, he felt both relieved and guilty, knowing that Ariana would be furious at him for having revealed their plan...especially after she'd expressly told him not to. He dreaded her inevitable anger...and not just because of her physical strength. He admitted as much to Kalibar.
“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 fiel
d 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 constant 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 e
asily 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.
