by Clayton Wood
“I find it remarkable that this wood insulates against the Barren forest,” Kalibar stated suddenly, gesturing at the black walls of the house's exterior. “I take it your suit is made of the same material?”
“It is,” Petra answered, not looking up from her plate.
“That explains how you can survive here,” Kalibar told Ariana. “What tree does it grow from?”
“It doesn't,” Petra replied. When Kalibar didn't say anything, she looked up from her plate. “It's from a vine.”
“The Reaper vine,” Kyle piped in. Petra raised an eyebrow at him, and he blushed. “What?”
“Where does it come from?” Kalibar pressed.
“The ground,” Petra quipped.
“A valuable plant indeed,” Kalibar observed, ignoring her glib reply. “I wonder if I could study some live samples?”
“They're very difficult to come by,” Petra replied. “Most of the vines we find are already dead. The only living vines my tribe has now are inside of me.”
“That'll do,” he replied. Petra's eyes widened for a moment, but she regained her composure quickly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.
“I thought a teacher such as yourself would treat his student with more respect,” she stated coolly. Kalibar hardly seemed dismayed by her tone.
“Speaking of which,” he replied, “...if I'm going to teach you, I'll need to be able to weave outdoors. A suit like yours would be quite helpful.”
“Only the Joined can wear it,” Petra retorted. Kalibar glanced at Ariana, raising one eyebrow. “And Immortals,” Petra added.
“Quite alright,” Kalibar stated with a smile. “I seem to get by well enough with dirt.”
“I think you've been crawling in it for too long,” Petra retorted. “It's seeped into your mind.” She finished her food then, standing up from her chair and nodding at Kyle and Ariana. “Good night,” she stated crisply. Then she turned and left, making her way back indoors. Kyle watched her go, then turned to see Kalibar watching her go. Kalibar snapped out of his trance, realizing that Kyle and Ariana were looking at him...and that Ariana was rolling her eyes. He cleared his throat.
“Well then,” he said, pushing himself away from the table, the legs of his chair screeching on the floor. Just then, Petra's mother stopped by their table, and asked if she could sit down. All three immediately said yes, and she took a seat, smiling apologetically at Kalibar.
“Did you enjoy your meals?” she asked. Everyone nodded enthusiastically, except for Ariana.
“It was exquisite,” Kalibar replied.
“Oh good,” she stated, clearly pleased. “I hope Petra was...pleasant tonight,” she added tentatively. Kalibar smiled.
“She was,” he assured. “You have a lovely daughter.”
“Oh I know,” Petra's mother agreed. “And a stubborn one,” she added ruefully. “Everything she does, she excels at. She's been the best Weaver of all the tribes for years now...I don't know if she's very happy about being beaten.”
“She seems to be taking it well,” Kalibar observed. He smiled at her, patting the back of her hand. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You're welcome,” she replied. Then she stood, making her way back to her own table. Kalibar sighed, glancing at his two children wearily.
“How about we go for a walk?” he proposed. Kyle nodded, and so did Ariana. They stood from the table, attempting to take their own plates, but they were stopped at once, the plates whisked away by Petra's family. Kalibar went to Petra's parents' table to express his amazement at her father's cooking, and then all three went downstairs, and out of the front door. The starlit sky greeted them as they strode across the wide path away from the house, tiny points of light peeking between the leaves high above their heads.
“I have to admit,” Kalibar stated, breaking the silence. “I never expected today to end like this.”
“Tell me about it,” Kyle agreed, smiling up at his father. “I still can't believe you're actually here.”
“We have a job to do,” Kalibar stated, putting an arm around Kyle's shoulders, and around Ariana's. “A job that only we can do.” He sighed then. “But this,” he added, gesturing back at the house in the distance, “...may complicate things.” Kyle frowned.
“How's that?”
“Sabin's lair is somewhere around here, correct?” Kalibar asked. Kyle nodded. “And the blast radius of Ampir's bomb, what is it again?”
“Ten miles,” Kyle replied. “Uh, a ten mile diameter,” he corrected. Kalibar nodded.
“That's what I thought,” he replied. “Which means that if Sabin's lair is within five miles of this house...” He stopped then, lowering his gaze to the ground. Kyle's eyes widened.
“They'll be killed!” he exclaimed in horror. Kalibar frowned, letting go of Ariana and putting a finger to his lips. Then he sighed again.
“We may have to have them evacuate,” he stated. “The question is...if they knew we were going to kill the Immortals – and potentially destroy their home and perhaps even their forest – how would they respond?”
“Not well,” Ariana replied.
“Yet we cannot in good conscience let them die,” Kalibar continued. “So we have to find a way to get them to evacuate themselves – and the rest of the tribes – without telling them the truth.”
“How the heck are we going to do that?” Kyle pressed. Kalibar gave him a wry smile.
“I suspect I'll be spending most of the night pondering that very question.”
They walked in silence then for a while, until the path had faded away, leaving nothing but endless forest floor before them. Kalibar stopped then, glancing back the way they'd come.
“I suppose we'd better be getting back,” he said. He turned about, beginning the long walk back to the house, and Kyle followed along. But Ariana stayed where she was, her eyes on Kyle.
“What?” Kyle asked.
“Can I talk to you for a little bit?” she asked him. Kalibar raised an eyebrow.
“I'll leave you to it,” he said. He continued onward, waving with one hand. “Don't take too long.” Kyle nodded, and both he and Ariana watched Kalibar go. When the old man had long since been swallowed whole by the darkness of the forest, Ariana turned to Kyle.
“Kyle,” she began, her expression suddenly serious. “I need to talk to you about something.” Kyle blinked, then frowned.
“Sure, anything,” he replied. “What's wrong?”
“It's just...” she started, then stopped, looking like she was searching for the right words. “I've been thinking a lot lately.”
“About what?”
“About...us,” she answered. Kyle smiled.
“Me too,” he replied. She shook her head.
“No, I mean...it's just that...” She trailed off then, turning away from him, her pale face looking radiant in the starlight. Then she turned back to him, taking a deep breath in, then letting it out slowly. Then she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ariana mumbled.
“But you were just going to...”
“Forget about it,” Ariana insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him back toward the path. “Come on, let's go home.” But Kyle resisted.
“Tell me,” he insisted. “What’s wrong?”
Ariana hesitated, lowering her gaze to her feet. She took a deep breath in, then let it out.
“It’s about us,” she said at last. Kyle frowned.
“What about us?”
Ariana looked up at him, her expression unreadable. Then she swallowed visibly.
“It’s about me,” she corrected. She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m right for you, Kyle.”
“What?” Kyle blurted out. “What do you mean? Of course you are!”
“No,” Ariana retorted firmly. “I’m not.” Kyle opened his mouth to respond, and Ariana put a finger to his lips. “I’m dead, Kyle.”
“I don’t
care about that.”
“Not now,” she conceded. “But you will.”
“Ariana...”
“I’ll never get any older, Kyle,” she continued. “I can’t have kids, or...anything,” she added. Kyle shook his head.
“I don’t care,” he retorted. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t it?” she pressed. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Kyle, I can’t be what you’ll want me to be.”
Kyle frowned, staring at her silently for a moment.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
Ariana lowered her gaze, saying nothing, her hand slipping off of his shoulder. Kyle grabbed her hands in his own, and leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. Then he hugged her. At first she just stood there, not moving. Then he felt her hug him back.
“It’s not fair” she mumbled. Kyle pulled back.
“What?”
“This,” she muttered, gesturing at herself. Then she brought a hand up to her forehead. “And this.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Even if I kill Xanos, he’ll still have destroyed my past.” She looked up at him. “And my future.”
“Ariana, that’s not true,” Kyle insisted. Ariana turned away, staring off into the forest, utterly still. In that moment, she looked like a statue, her shoulders not rising and falling with breath, her eyes unblinking. Kyle stared at her, unsure of what to say. After a long moment, she turned back to him, giving him a weak smile.
“Thank you for saving me back there,” she stated. “In the cave.”
“No problem,” Kyle replied.
“I love you,” Ariana stated suddenly, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Kyle turned to her, his heart skipping a beat.
“Huh?”
“I love you,” she repeated. She stopped, pulling him up to her and giving him a kiss on the lips. Then she pulled away. He blinked, touching his lips with his fingertips, then staring at her.
“I love you too,” he replied.
“I know.”
She turned back toward the house then, pulling Kyle along with her. She walked slowly, gazing up at the stars, her hand cool and her grip firm. They’d gotten within a hundred feet of the house when she leaned the side of her head against Kyle’s cheek, letting go of his hand and wrapping an arm around his waist.
“I’m glad I can’t forget anything,” she stated.
“Hmm?”
She rubbed the small of his back, continuing forward.
“I’ll always have my memories,” she murmured. “No matter what happens.”
“We’ll make good ones then,” Kyle decided. Ariana turned to him, a smile on her lips.
“Yeah.”
They made their way back toward the house without another word, following the wide path hand-in-hand, the pale starlight casting the forest in a gentle glow. It was, Kyle realized, one of the most serene nights he'd ever experienced. In spite of the horrors he'd faced that day, the night had ended with him surrounded by those he loved the most, along with the hope that he might just end up succeeding in this impossible mission after all.
Chapter 29
Sabin stands in the small hollowed-out space in the mines that serves as Gunthar's office, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at the leader of the Resistance. Gunthar remains seated, as he has throughout their brief meeting. Despite Sabin's fury, and despite the accusations Sabin has leveled at him, Gunthar appears calm.
“I understand your concerns,” Gunthar states, breaking the silence. Sabin raises his eyebrows.
“Really?” he asks. “Then you'll call off the attack?”
“No.”
“What?” Sabin exclaims. He stares at Gunthar incredulously. “How can you...”
“Because I am the leader of this government,” Gunthar interjects coolly. “And because I am not as stupid as you apparently think I am.”
“I never said...”
“You didn't need to,” Gunthar interrupts. He steeples his hands together, staring at Sabin silently, until Sabin squirms under his unblinking gaze. “I happen to be more resourceful than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your concern about Ampir is well-founded,” Gunthar replies. “I've seen the blueprints for his armor...they're very impressive.”
“Blueprints?” Sabin asks. “What blueprints?”
“Your government...”
“Former government,” Sabin corrects. Gunthar's jaw ripples at the interruption.
“Your former government wasn't stupid enough to let Ampir keep his armor a secret from them,” he explains. “They forced him to submit blueprints for his armor for military intelligence.”
“Uh huh,” Sabin mutters. “And you really believe he gave accurate blueprints? You can’t be that naïve.”
“I do,” Gunthar retorts. “And I happen to have a contact in your Empire that received a very large reward for providing me with those blueprints.”
“So?”
“So after you finished designing the Behemoths, I had a second team of Runics use those blueprints to add some...modifications to your original design.”
“You what?” Sabin exclaims. “You couldn't have,” he protests. “I know every inch of those machines!” But Gunthar only smirks.
“Apparently not,” he replies. Sabin can only stare at the man, his mind spinning with the ramifications of Gunthar's betrayal. Finally, he finds his tongue.
“You can't attack the Empire,” he protests. “My entire family lives there!” And it's true; his sister, her children, and his mother live in Stridon, along with almost everyone he's ever cared about.
Including Vera.
“And that,” Gunthar replies, “...is why the Empire is, and always will be, your country.” He sighs then, staring at the rock wall to his side. “At least until it is destroyed.”
“Why?” Sabin asks. “The Resistance is almost finished with its mission! Verhan is ours for the taking...we can reclaim our land, free our people! Send the Behemoths to Verhan instead, like we planned!”
“You're not thinking of the long game,” Gunthar retorts. “As long as the Empire exists, it will never stop threatening my people. A victory at Verhan would only encourage the Empire to mount a massive counterattack, to destroy the government that dared to rise up against it. The only way to be free from the Empire's tyranny and corruption is to destroy it once and for all.”
“This is madness,” Sabin declares, throwing up his hands. “Millions of innocent people live in Stridon, people that had nothing to do with any of this! If you kill all of them, you'll be no better than the Empire!”
“Sabin,” Gunthar says with a sigh. “You're an idealist. I understand this must be difficult for you. Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate everything you've done for us...I really do.”
“What are you saying?”
“The Empire is doomed,” Gunthar answers. “My Behemoths and airships will launch tonight, and arrive at your Empire this evening. Stridon and eleven other major cities will be destroyed, and the Imperialists will be crushed.” He shrugs then. “After which your extraordinarily valuable services will no longer be required.”
“You can't be serious,” Sabin protests. “I'm as much a part of the Resistance as anyone else here! You wouldn't even have the Behemoths if it weren't for me!” He throws up his hands. “And now you're just going to let me go?”
“Goodness no,” Gunthar retorts. “I wouldn't think of doing such a thing with a man as valuable as yourself.” There is a knock on the door then. “Ah, right on time,” Gunthar declares. “Come in.”
The door opens, and two guards – Gunthar's personal Weavers – walk through, Witt standing between them. The young man looks terrified, his eyes glued to the floor.
“Witt,” Sabin greets. “What's wrong? Are you alright?”
“Oh, he's fine,” Gunthar says. Then he nods at the guards. Witt jerks forward suddenly, arching his back, his eyes widening. He cries out, and then the front of his shirt bulges
outward in the middle of his chest. A maroon stain appears there, spreading rapidly, and the front of his shirt rips, revealing the bloodstained tip of a blade. The blade retracts, and one of the guards shoves Witt forward. The young Runic falls toward the ground, his head slamming against the rock wall on the way down. He collapses in a heap, a bloody puddle growing around his limp body.
“Witt!” Sabin cries, bursting out of his seat and kneeling at Witt’s side.
“Ah well,” Gunthar murmurs. “I suppose I spoke too soon.”
“You killed him!” Sabin gasps in horror. He turns to Gunthar, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why?”
“I ordered him not to reveal my plans,” Gunthar replies. “He disobeyed said order. That is treason, and the punishment for treason is death.” He gestured down at Witt's body. “And that is what death looks like.”
“He was just a boy,” Sabin protests. “You're a monster!”
“He was a man,” Gunthar counters. “And I treated him like one until he betrayed me. And now, because of his betrayal, I have to deal with you.”
“Deal with me?” Sabin asks, his eyes widening. He rises to his feet, backing away from Witt’s corpse, feeling his back strike the cold stone wall behind him. He glances at Gunthar, then back at the guards, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Relax,” Gunthar urges, his voice soothing. “I'm not going to kill you. I am a man of the law, not a despot like your Grand Runic Nespo. The only crime you’re guilty of is the involuntary acquisition of classified information...and, given your defiant outbursts, insubordination.”
“Not a despot?” Sabin declares incredulously, pointing at Witt's lifeless body. “You murdered my best student in cold blood!”
“I had him executed as the law requires,” Gunthar retorts calmly. “Keep in mind that he was well aware of the law – and the consequences of breaking it – before he ever chose to.” He nods at the guards then. “Take him away,” he orders. “Place him in prison until his sentencing.” He grimaced then, gesturing at Witt’s body. “And get somebody to clean up this mess.” The guards turn on Sabin, grabbing his arms and pulling him away from Gunthar, out of the small office. Sabin resists, digging his heels into the stone floor.
