by Clayton Wood
Ampir turns back to him, saying nothing. Blood drips from his left fist onto the floor.
“Kill me,” Sabin repeats calmly, even confidently. “I want to die now.”
Still, Ampir says nothing.
“Please,” Sabin pleads. “I'm ready.” Ampir just stares at him, and Sabin rises to his feet suddenly, balling his hands into fists and staring back defiantly. “It's true,” he declares. “Everything Gunthar said. I ordered the Behemoths to go to Stridon. I ordered them to kill Vera!” He flinches then, expecting Ampir's fist to shoot out and crush his skull, as it had for Gunthar. But Ampir just stares down at him, saying nothing.
Then he turns his back to Sabin, walking out of the cell.
“Ampir?” Sabin cries, walking after him. “Ampir!” The man ignores him, stepping through the bars of the cell. “Ampir, wait!”
And then Ampir vanishes into thin air.
* * *
The pain was everything.
Kyle no longer felt the ground beneath him, no longer saw the dark Chosen leaning over him, pressing that green shard into his forehead. He didn't hear Kalibar screaming anymore, couldn't even feel his own arms and legs. They were gone. Everything was gone.
Except for the pain.
It shot through his forehead, radiating through to the back of his skull, a pulsing agony that refused to end. If he could have wished for death, if his brain had been capable of forming such a thought, he would have.
Something appeared then, not in his vision but in his mind's eye. It was bright, humming with twisting, churning power, a maelstrom of magic in the center of his mind. He felt the threads of magic within it, sensed them starting to weave. Magic tied itself into impossibly complex patterns within him, weaving with dizzying speed.
And then the light went out.
Kyle felt the pain in his skull surge, felt something pulling at his forehead. He saw a burst of light – with his eyes now – a rich blue sky with feathery clouds suspended high above. He saw the glittering green facets of the shard hovering above his own forehead, its tapered peak streaked with red. He stared at it, feeling his arms and legs return to him. Beyond the green shard, he saw the Chosen above him, rising to its feet, its remaining eye opening wide. It took a step back, its black cloak rippling in the wind.
The horrible pain in Kyle's head start to fade, quickly replaced by an intense burning in his chest, and an overwhelming hunger for air. He gasped, inhaling deeply, then felt thick chunks suck into his windpipe. He choked, turning to the side and hacking violently. Gobs of vomit flew out of his mouth, splattering on the rocky ledge beside him. He drew in another breath, coughing again.
And then there was ecstasy.
An incredible force slammed into his consciousness, an immense power that pulsed in his mind's eye, coursing through his bones. Blue light exploded around and through the Chosen, engulfing it instantly. Its rippling black cloak disintegrated, its flesh melting to the bone. Its eyes widened, blue light bursting from its sockets and from its gaping mouth.
And then it exploded.
The blue light intensified, becoming so bright that it was all-encompassing, filling Kyle's mind to the exclusion of everything else. No thought was possible, no sensation left to him but utter rapture.
And then it stopped.
The blue light vanished, the ecstasy fading as quickly as it had come. Kyle laid there on the cold hard rock of the Spine of Grimore, his eyes wide, his skin slick with sweat. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, the great vessels of his neck pulsing with each beat. He heard the crunch, crunch of heavy footsteps approaching.
He groaned, rolling onto his side, feeling the sharp edge of a rock digging into his side. Staring past the toes of his boots, he saw a pair of jet-black boots standing there. He followed the boots up with his eyes, seeing black armored legs, then a black armored chest. Blue light coursed over the surface of the metallic armor, weaving random, tiny patterns there.
Goosebumps rose on his arms, a chill running down his spine.
His gaze continued to rise, noting a black armored chestplate, the sun's rays reflecting dully from the inky metal. And above this, a strong, square jaw, smooth shaven, the skin gently bronzed. Above this, a mirror-like visor, short brown hair rippling in the howling wind.
What the...
The man standing before him reached down with one gauntleted hand, his fingers extended toward Kyle. Kyle reached out without thinking, and the man grabbed his wrist. Kyle felt himself lifting off of the hard stone of the Spine, rising slowly to his feet. He stood there then, staring at his own reflection in that mirrored visor, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Then he rushed forward, slamming into the man and wrapping his arms around him.
“Darius!” Kyle cried, burying his face in the man's chest. He felt Darius give him a squeeze.
“Hey kid,” Darius greeted.
Chapter 31
Petra knelt on the packed dirt of the forest floor, one arm circled around Kalibar's back, the other hand cradling his head against her chest. She held him there, feeling tears trickle down her cheeks. Despite the fact that she'd only met him yesterday, he'd proven himself to be a good man. A brave man. And a good father.
And she had watched him die...let him die...while he begged her for help.
Petra inhaled deeply, grimacing at the pain in her ribs, then let the air out. She let Kalibar's head go, setting it gently back onto the large tree trunk behind him. She leaned back, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her eyes dropped to his abdomen, to the blood-soaked brown cloak, and the severed tree branch that...
She drew a sharp breath in, rising to her feet and backing away.
The branch was in Kalibar's lap.
She stared at the branch, then at Kalibar's brown cloak, seeing the gaping hole in the cloth over his belly, the mass of maroon clots adhered to his flesh there. Then she lifted her gaze to his face...and realized that his eyes were open. Not just open...they were staring right at her!
“You look terrible,” Kalibar stated casually, a slight smile on his lips. Petra's eyes widened, and she took another step backward.
“How...”
“Thank you for the, ah, pleasant awakening,” he added, glancing at her bosom for a split second, then raising his eyes back to hers. She blinked, then looked downward, feeling her cheeks flush. Kalibar looked down at his own belly, brushing away the clots there and exposing perfectly intact skin. “I'm guessing you gave me magic,” he deduced.
“You were dead!” Petra blurted out. Kalibar nodded.
“I suppose I was,” he agreed. “Almost.” He grunted, propping himself further up on the tree trunk. “Thank you for saving my life, by the way.”
“You can't be alive,” Petra protested, staring at the healed wound. “I watched you die!”
“Yes, well,” Kalibar replied. “It just so happens that a very powerful man placed runes in my bones,” he added. “...that heal any major injuries as long as I have magic.”
Petra stared at him mutely for a moment. Then she shook her head.
“That's not possible,” she declared. Kalibar chuckled.
“You've never met Ampir,” Kalibar countered with a wry smile. The smile quickly vanished, however, replaced by horror. “Kyle!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Petra asked. Kalibar grimaced, pushing himself up to his feet. He swayed a little, then righted himself.
“How long have we been here?” he demanded, his tone suddenly sharp.
“Two minutes, maybe three?” Petra ventured, taken aback by his sudden change.
“We need to get out of here,” Kalibar said, his voice hard. “Now.” He grabbed her hand. “Fly us out of here!”
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
“Someone set off a bomb,” Kalibar answered. “And we've got about two minutes to fly five miles, or we're dead.” He got behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, which made her eyes widen. “Go!” he ordered.
Petra let magic flo
w into her mind's eye, shaping it and pouring it outward. She rose up from the ground, feeling Kalibar's weight pulling down on her. She increased her magic stream, shooting higher into the air. She dodged tree limbs as she rose, quickly clearing the treetops and bursting into the clear blue sky.
“There!” Kalibar shouted over the shrieking wind. He pointed outward, toward a small mountain northwest of Mount Grimore...Mount Kress. “If we can get behind that, it should shield us from the blast.” Petra changed direction abruptly, feeling the blood drain from her head as she did so, her vision blackening. She clenched the muscles in her legs, resisting the urge to slow down, and zoomed upward and forward toward the smaller mountain. Faster and faster she went, pouring more and more magic into her stream, the wind tearing through her hair.
“Faster!” Kalibar urged.
Petra grimaced, reaching for the others within her mind, and bracing herself for the inevitable pain that was the price of their gift. She felt magic gush into her mind, and threw it immediately at her magic stream, ignoring the aching in her bones...and the knowledge that every time she used the Reaper vines, it brought her closer to her untimely death.
They zoomed high above the treetops, and Petra felt Kalibar tightening his grip on her waist. She created a gravity shield around them both, instantly nullifying the roaring wind, and ensuring that if Kalibar let go, he would merely fall onto the lower dome of the shield. Mount Kress grew rapidly before them; Petra had never in her life attempted to fly this quickly. She felt her magic draining rapidly, and begged the others for more.
“Faster, faster!” Kalibar yelled. “We're almost there!” And they were...the base of the mountain was only a half-mile away now. “Circle around to the back,” Kalibar instructed. Petra complied, curving slightly rightward, arcing toward the side of the mountain, then reversing direction to curve leftward around its base. She felt Kalibar twist around behind her. “A few more seconds,” he stated. “Slow down, we're almost behind it...”
Petra gladly decreased her magic stream, feeling the sudden pull of her deceleration. She continued circling around the base of the mountain, only a hundred or so feet from the treetops climbing the rocky surface. She felt Kalibar squeeze her torso.
“Okay,” he stated. “Land us.”
Petra did so, dropping them between a gap in the trees on the mountainside. When their feet struck the ground, Kalibar disengaged from Petra, walking a few steps away. She saw his knees wobble, and then he fell to the ground.
* * *
Kalibar barely heard Petra calling his name as he stumbled away from her, his legs feeling like rubber beneath him. They gave out suddenly, and he dropped to the ground. His body felt numb, as if he were in a dream. No...a nightmare.
“...you okay?” he heard Petra ask. She walked up in front of him, squatting down and putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned away, unable to face her.
Kyle!
He closed his eyes, remembering the Chosen standing over his son, the green shard piercing through the poor boy's forehead. The way Kyle had struggled, the fear in his voice. Kalibar put his head in his hands, taking deep, shaking breaths.
I can't do this, he thought. He pictured Ariana, tossed off of the Spine of Grimore like a rag doll, her eyes unseeing, her throat crushed. He began to rock back and forth. I can't do this!
“Kalibar, are you hurt?” he heard Petra press. Her voice was rising, panic-stricken. He ignored her, trying to rise to his feet to walk away. He didn't want to be near her now. Didn't want to be near anyone. He managed to get to his feet, and took a few steps before his legs gave out again. He felt a sharp pain in his buttocks as they struck the ground, but it was nothing to him. He heard Petra run up to him, saw her kneeling before him, cupping the sides of his face in her hands.
“Kalibar!” she exclaimed, staring into his eyes. He tried to turn away, but she held him tightly. “What's wrong? Tell me,” she pleaded. He swallowed, feeling tears trickling down his cheeks. He took a deep breath in, and started to speak, but his voice cracked, and it took everything he had not to break down and weep in front of her. He closed his eyes, steeling himself.
“They're gone,” he muttered.
“Who?” Petra asked. Then her eyes widened. “Wait, where's Kyle and Ariana?” she exclaimed with sudden alarm. Kalibar shook his head.
“Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” she pressed. He tried to turn away again, but she held his head firmly in her palms, forcing him to look at her.
“The Chosen,” he muttered, an image of the black-cloaked creature kneeling over Kyle coming unbidden to his mind. “He...turned Kyle.”
“What Chosen?” Petra asked, clearly baffled. Kalibar stared at her.
“You don't remember?”
“No,” Petra replied. “What happened?” But Kalibar shook his head.
“I can't,” he muttered, “I can't do this.”
“What happened?”
Kalibar felt anger then, a hot spike of rage that burst up from deep within him. He reached up, grabbing her wrists and pulling them off of his face. Petra jerked backward.
“He killed them!” he shouted, his heart hammering in his chest. He let go of her wrists. “Sabin sent one of his Chosen after us. He snapped Ariana's neck and threw her off the mountain, turned Kyle into one of his slaves, and nearly killed us!” He stood there, feeling suddenly empty. “He did kill me.”
“Wait,” Petra exclaimed. “Ariana can't die, she's an Immortal!” She shook him. “Where is she? If I give her magic...”
“The bomb,” Kalibar interjected bitterly. “If we'd gone to find her it would've killed us all.” And as true as that statement was, he still felt like he'd abandoned her.
I should have died trying to find her, he realized. I should have had Petra fly away and stayed with my little girl.
Shame came over him, so heavy that he felt it would crush him.
“What bomb?” Petra pressed. “I don't understand.”
“Ky-” he began, the stopped himself. “The Chosen activated a bomb to kill us,” he lied. “I've seen them before. They destroy everything within a five mile radius.”
“You said they take five minutes to explode?” Petra asked. Kalibar nodded. She frowned, then got to her feet. “I don't understand,” she added. “It's been almost ten minutes, and I haven't heard any explosions.”
Kalibar stared at her mutely.
“You said five minutes, right?” Petra pressed. Kalibar nodded. She extended a hand down to him, and he took it, letting her pull him to his feet. “Kalibar, neither of your children is dead,” she insisted.
“If the bomb doesn't go off, we might be able to find Ariana,” he realized, feeling a burst of hope. But it quickly faded. “But Kyle is beyond us.”
“Why? Petra asked. “He'll be an Immortal just like Ariana.”
“Not like Ariana,” Kalibar countered. “Ariana's...different.”
“Then we'll start with her,” Petra concluded. Kalibar hesitated.
“If we're wrong, and the bomb goes off, it'll kill us both,” he warned. “And the Chosen might still be out there.” He shook his head. “I'll search for Ariana, but you should stay here. I can't risk your life too.”
“You need me,” Petra retorted. “And I decide who I risk my life for.”
“Petra...”
“Kyle and Ariana need us,” she interrupted. “And I'm going to help them.” She stood back then, putting her hands on her hips. “You can come along if you want.”
Chapter 32
Kyle felt Darius pushing him away gently, and finally unwrapped his arms from around the bodyguard's armored body. He stepped back, hardly knowing what to feel. On the one hand, he felt profound relief. On the other, he was utterly confused.
“I thought you were dead!” he exclaimed, finding his voice. Darius smirked.
“Not yet,” he replied. The air around his left hand shimmered, and suddenly a long black cylinder appeared, hovering over his left hand
. It was the bomb, its activated end still glowing red. Darius tapped the end with his thumb, and it stopping glowing, retreating back into the cylinder. Then he lifted his right hand to the side, palm up. A dark form rose from beyond the edge of the Spine, levitating upward until it was level with Darius.
“Ariana!” Kyle cried. It was Ariana, hovering upright in the air, her spine arched backward, her head tipping back so that her unseeing eyes faced the sky above. Darius lifted his right hand to her forehead, and a pulse of brilliant blue light burst from his gauntlet, bathing her in its glow. Her eyes shot open, her limbs tensing, and she drew in a deep, gasping breath. Her windpipe, crushed by the Chosen's deadly grip, re-expanded and straightened out in front of Kyle's eyes. Darius guided her to the narrow ledge between himself and Kyle, and lowered her onto it. Ariana turned to Kyle, then back to Darius, looking absolutely thunderstruck.
“You!” she exclaimed, backing away from Darius. “You're supposed to be dead!” Darius said nothing, and Ariana turned to Kyle. “Kyle!” she gasped, running forward and embracing him...and nearly crushing his ribs in the process. “You're okay!”
“I'm fine,” Kyle gasped. Ariana immediately relaxed her vise-like grip on him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, then pulling away. Kyle smiled back; still, he put a hand to his forehead, shuddering at the memory of the Chosen's shard piercing through his skull. To his relief, he felt only smooth, unbroken skin there. Ariana frowned.
“What happened?” she asked. Then she turned back to Darius. “Where's Kalibar and Petra?”
“Uh,” Kyle stammered, glancing up at Darius.
They're fine, he heard a deep, resonant voice in his mind say.
“They're fine,” Kyle parroted, trying to sound reassuring. Then he paused; he had no idea where the two were. One minute Kalibar had been shouting for him to activate the bomb, and the next, he'd been gone.
“I heard him,” Ariana replied. “Where are they?” she pressed.
