Chapter 27: Searching for a Hero of Long Ago
"Our home is lost," Chief Sana said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
Chris stood beside the old woman, watching the villagers rush back and forth, carrying tools, food, clothing. Women loaded carts, bundled up their children, and stowed their belongings on the saddle bags of pack horses.
Chris' eyes drifted to the chieftain, watching for signs of despair in the woman's wrinkled features. Upon Chris and Hugo's return to Chisha, the chieftain had accepted the bad news with little more than a nod. Sana's stoicism in the face of the painful truth impressed Chris, but the old woman's words stung her heart. She had come to Chisha to help save the Grasslands. She meant to build an alliance powerful enough to resist Harmonia. Or, at least, to forge a truce that would last long enough for Zexen to shore up its defenses at Brass Castle. Now it seemed she would do neither.
A fog of confusion enveloped Chisha; a village in the process of being uprooted. Men and women ran back and forth, jostling and shouting. The village did not have streets, but the lanes between the houses were thick with the press of people. Arguments erupted as men and women tried to clear a path down which to roll barrels or drive a team of horses. Women cried the names of the children, trying to corral their families. Nerves were fraught, and tempers ran high. Someone gave a shove here and there, and young men grappled and fought briefly before being pulled apart by their friends and family.
Chris watched this the chaotic process with a building sense of sorrow and frustration. Everyone's hands were filled with bulging sacks, bundles of cloth, or in the case of the children, treasured toys clutched tight to their chests. Bring only what you need, the elders had said. Chris understood; it wasn't so easy to discard a lifetime of memories.
"How long before they come?" Chief Sana asked, never turning her head. The elder watched her people mill around her, her posture rigid, her eyes soft.
Chris glanced at the rising sun. "It is a matter of hours. If Bishop Sasarai wants to bring the full weight of his wrath down on Chisha…" She hesitated to speak the words, knowing they would be painful. Sana just nodded her head, urging her on. "If so… then, transporting his infantry past the woods and through the crevasse will take time. But, not enough time. Not enough to make a difference."
Chief Sana nodded simply. She turned to face Chris. Though she did not speak, Chris felt transfixed by the elder's eyes. She had thought to remain respectfully silent, but now she found she could not.
"Again," she blurted out. "I am sorry."
Concern flooded Chief Sana's brow and eyes. The elder clasped Chris's hand in her own. "Don't say that. You risked your life for us. For the Grasslands."
Chris felt ashamed, felt color rise to her face. She couldn't meet Chief Sana's eyes. The old woman was fighting her own despair and regret. Chisha might burn. Her people stood on the brink of slavery or death. And still, she had the strength of heart, in this moment, to see the turmoil and regret in Chris's heart. The strength to comfort her in her hour or failure. Chris had known strength before - in her family, among the knights in Vinay. Honor, loyalty, conviction. But she'd never known such strength of heart. She felt humbled.
"We are not done," Chris said. She wasn't sure she meant the words. She certainly had not meant to speak them. But Chief Sana had that effect on her. She wanted to believe, to be of some comfort to the old woman.
Chief Sana smiled thinly. She began to walk, and Chris followed a half-step behind. "Quite right. We Chishans have seen villages burn before, you know. Back then…" Something forlorn came over the chieftain's eyes, and she trailed off.
They kept walking. "The Fire Bringer War," Chris added. She glanced at Chief Sana, tried to read the woman's possible age. How old had she been, during that conflict fifty years ago? She would have had to have been a young woman. Chris tried to imagine what she had looked like. Pretty, she thought. Proud. The kind of woman who knew her place in life, who didn't seem to struggle with living up to other people's expectations. She'd always envied them, those carefree women.
"Yes," Chief Sana said. "The Fire Bringer War." There was a sudden gleam in her eye, and her step seemed to lighten, her walking cane seemed to weigh less. "We are not done yet. Chief Rina will do what she can. Chisha will fall, but my people will survive. In Alma-Kinan, we will find shelter. It will give us enough time to think."
Chris glanced around her. She hoped Chief Sana was right. The chaos of noise and motion that surrounded her was that of thousands of villagers packing their belongings and preparing for a hasty journey into the unknown. The Harmonians had archers, rune bearers, heavy infantry, cavalry. But all of that paled in comparison with the nightmarish power of the True Rune branded into Bishop Sasarai's hand. The Grasslanders would have to delay the Harmonian approach long enough to allow the stream of refugees to reach Alma-Kinan. The alternative… slavery. Chris's eyes fell upon the mounds of earth dug around the base of the hill, the trenches and ramparts now guarding Chisha. With Chief Lucia still missing after the night's botched assassination, Chief Rina's meticulously prepared defenses would play a key role in deciding the fate of the Grasslanders.
Chief Sana broke the silence after a long consideration. "There is one more thing. The fate of the Grasslands, including Zexen, hangs in the balance while Bishop Sasarai possesses that rune. It is simply a power we cannot hope to match."
"He can be defeated… somehow," Chris said, but she struggled to convince herself. She frowned, drafting and quickly discarding yet another of the hundreds of plans she'd had for how to bring the bishop down since this night's fiasco.
"The True Runes," Chief Sana intoned, almost religiously, "Are the powers that spun this world out of nothingness. The spirits are bound to them. As are people. Believe me, Lady Chris, I know the power of the True Runes…" Once more the old woman seemed to sag, and her step faltered. "We will need our own power to match."
Chris stopped, looked at Chief Sana in confusion. "What are you saying?"
Chief Sana hesitated. She was deliberating what to say, or perhaps whether to speak at all. Finally, she breathed out a deep sigh. "Bring the boy," said the elder. "I will tell you where to find a True Rune."
Hugo stared at the leather bound tome resting on the table. No. Not resting. Pressing down. It was a slim volume, but as the realization of what Sana suggested sank into Hugo's mind, the tome seemed heavier than a boulder. It threatened to crush the table.
"No," he said firmly. "I'm needed here."
The eyes of every person in the room were fixed upon him. Chris had a strange look of concern mixed with sorrow in her eyes. Yumi and Yun, keeping to the back, had exchanged meaningful glances as Chief Sana told her story. Chiefs Rina and Dupa stood close to each other, both lost in thought. Sergeant Joe, recently returned from a patrol of the outlying farms, waddled from foot to foot, frowning at the tome. All the leaders in the village had assembled in Sana's house. All except one – the chieftain they had all trusted to see them through this disaster. And thanks to Hugo's failure, his mother was gone. It hurt like a knife's blade to think about it, but he had to imagine that she might be gone forever.
Hugo thought back to the moment he'd learned his mother hadn't returned from the attack on the Harmonian camp. Chris and Sergeant Joe had needed to physically restrain him from getting on Fubar's back and flying back out there to search for his mother. He could imagine a dozen ways she'd need his help. Her flank pierced by an arrow, hobbling through the woods. Leg crushed from a fall down a bramble-choked gorge, unable to move beyond a crawl. He'd failed her.
Once Hugo had calmed down – with the help of a few strong bumps over the head by Sergeant Joe's surprisingly strong hands – he'd seen reason. Before they left for the Harmonian camp, Lucia had cornered him against one of the Chishan houses. She had held him in place, and made him swear that if something went wrong, he would not come look for her. She had made him swear, not as Hugo, son of Lucia, but as Hugo, warrior of the Karaya. And the torch light had played on her face, making it seem as if the spirits themselves had manifested in her eyes.
"I'm staying," Hugo said. "I'll protect Chisha. Someone else should go."
Rina shook her head. "Chief Sana is right. There is no one else."
Chris stepped up to him. "Hugo, I understand your feelings." She must have seen doubt in his eyes, for she pressed on. "Believe me, I do. However, consider our situation. You are one man. Your presence here will not change the course of the battle. The power of a True Rune…" She glanced at the book upon the table. "That could change everything." Chris's eyes glowed, lit with the conviction behind her words.
Hugo clutched at his face, gritting his teeth. "You're asking me to abandon my people."
Chris stiffened. "I am not asking you to do anything. The choice is yours. There is, however, a flaw in your logic. You think you are choosing duty over betrayal, courage over cowardice. In truth, you have a chance to do something incredibly brave. You have a chance to become the hero your people need. The hero we need."
Hugo hesitated. His head was swimming, weighing the information, the details of his choice. The Flame Champion. The dusty tome Sana had dug out from behind a false section of wall contained the legendary hero's journal, as well as the means of finding and reclaiming the True Rune he had sealed away. A chance to be a hero. Only, Hugo didn't see it that way. He saw the path of a coward, fleeing from his people when they needed him the most.
Chief Sana let out a deep sigh. "Hugo. I am asking you to do this. I would not do this lightly. The weight of a True Rune upon a man's soul is… considerable. I had determined to let the rune remain hidden, even at the cost of losing Chisha. Now I see that this choice is not mine to make. Bishop Sasarai will find and claim the True Fire Rune. In a matter of time."
"It's what he came for, isn't it?" Hugo snarled. "We should just hand the damned thing over!"
"Fool!" Dupa said, advancing a step. His beefy arms waved as he spoke. "You have a chance to wield a great weapon. Perhaps the greatest weapon the world has seen. And you speak of handing it over, to the enemy? To the cowards who, in your own words, murdered Chief Zepon through trickery and deceit?"
Hugo flinched, feeling as if he'd been struck. "If we'd returned the rune all those years ago, we'd never be in this mess."
"A child's wishes," Dupa growled. "This is nonsense. If there was time, I would go myself, to claim this weapon for the saraak." The immense warrior eyed the book covetously, running his scaly hands over each other.
Chris put a hand on Chris's arm. "Only you can do this. On Fubar's back, you can reach the True Rune's resting place, retrieve the rune, and return in time to help your people." Hugo felt his will begin to waver, and fought the feeling. He stared Chris down defiantly, but the woman wouldn't look away. She kept him fixed with those huge violet eyes, refusing to back down.
Yumi cleared her throat. "Don't worry Hugo. Yun and I, we'll lead everyone towards Alma-Kinan." The woman flashed her winning smile. "We'll make sure they get there, safe and sound."
Yun nodded. "We'll be waiting for you there. For your safe return."
Hugo stared at the tome. He felt like a boar corralled by hunting dogs. Hemmed in at every step along the way, until it found itself trapped, without another path to take. In that situation, the only options were surrender, or a mindless charge straight at the hunters.
Hugo swallowed hard. He walked over to the table and picked up the tome. It felt light in his hands, but his shoulders sagged beneath the burden of responsibility. Looking around the room, he could sense relief in the others.
Hugo turned to Chris. "Will you come with me?"
"No!" Dupa howled. "The Ironhead should not have been invited into this council. I'd rather kill her right here than let the she-devil anywhere near the rune. She means to steal the True Rune for Zexen!" Dupa glowered at Chris. Had the warrior been allowed a weapon inside the hut, he would have drawn it. Instead, Dupa bared his huge, muscled arms, as if to leap at her.
Hugo quickly stepped between them. He placed his hand against Dupa's chest, and fixed the saraak warrior with a hard look. "You'll not touch her." They stood like that for what seemed like an eternity, neither man backing down. The saraak drew himself up menacingly, playing his long tongue over his toothy maws. Dupa towered over him, outmatched him in every way. A hulking beast of four hundred pounds of lean muscle, the lizard clan chief was perhaps the mightiest warrior in all the Grasslands. And yet, Hugo found that he felt no fear as he met Dupa's hateful stare. Something Jimba had once told him found its way into his mind. Some things are so important, there's no room for fear.
Dupa broke off the stare, snarling as he stalked off into the corner of the room. "Damn you all, you fools."
Hugo suddenly remembered how to breathe. He saw new looks of respect in the eyes of some of the others. A look of surprise on Rina's face. The curious way Sergeant Joe watched him.
He turned to Chris, staring into her eyes. To the room, he said, "She won't betray us." Chris's eyes widened slightly, and something unreadable passed over her features. Hugo looked deep into those pale violet eyes. He couldn't say why he trusted her. Only that he did.
"It's time for Grasslanders and Zexens to learn to trust each other," he said. Someone had to make a start. He took a step forward, so that no more than a foot separated them. He took a deep breath, and stuck out his hand. "Will you come with me?"
A thin smile curled Chris's lips. She shook his hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "It would be my honor."
The solemn moment was broken when the door banged open. Lilly Pendragon stalked into the hut, fists planted on her hips. Her wide-brimmed hat sat jauntily on her head, like a crown. Her rapier swung at her hip. All eyes turned to the young woman. "I've been patient," Lilly said, her brow twitching. "As a foreign dignitary, representative of Tinto, I expect to be invited to council meetings, especially those which may concern my well-being!" She made a sweeping gesture to take in the room's occupants, especially noting Yumi and Yun. "I deserve to be a part of these proceedings."
For a moment, stunned silence reigned in the hut. Hugo stared at Lilly, too startled to speak.
"Enough nonsense!" came a howl from the corner of the room. Dupa stomped up to Lilly, arms raised. Lilly gave a start, and reached for her rapier. Too late. Dupa grabbed the young woman around the waist and hoisted her up, as easy as lifting a child, and placed her over his shoulder. He turned to face the room. "Trust can be misplaced. Be certain you don't regret your decision today."
Dupa stalked from the room, Lilly kicking and screaming on his shoulder.
Dawn was breaking, bathing the ramparts and earthworks of Chisha in a rosy glow. But for those who had hoped the rising sun would burn away their fevered nightmares, this new day brought no comfort. Rina stood atop a flat-topped Chishan hut, witnessing the Harmonian columns march into view beneath the hill. Stopping just out of bowshot, the soldiers fanned out and formed up, all to the beat of feverish drums.
Rina kept her outward expression calm, conscious of the eyes of the Chishans who watched her. Many relied on her now. Even more so after Lucia went and got her pretty bottom captured. Damn fool. Rina prayed to the spirits that her friend was safe. Behind her, a train of Grasslanders streamed out of Chisha, most of them defenseless Chishan farmers pushing carts and wagons filled with their life's possessions. The lion's share of the remaining Grasslander forces, decimated as they were, would guard the caravan bound for Alma-Kinan. Beecham would lead them. Rina would command the rear guard, who would stay and fight, to safeguard the retreat.
Rina turned to the young man at her side. "Advise me. What kind of strategist is your brother?"
Caesar Silverberg gave a lopsided grin, more out of frustration than mirth, she supposed. "Albert is the kind of strategist who will sacrifice everything for a quick victory."
First impressions sometimes lied. Rina had distrusted the young man when he first showed up. Her gut feeling had been to reject his help. Better to send him away, or truss him up and keep him under her watchful eye. The Harmonian strategist was, after all, his brother. But Rina had ended up taking a liking to the Caesar, with his scuffed clothes and his ruffled hair. She'd always liked an underdog, and Caesar had an easy way about him that she had to admit she found endearing.
Besides, Rina knew family, and she could sense from this young man that no such familiarity extended between the two Silverberg brothers. Caesar truly wanted to help. She sensed he needed to test himself. He was familiar with the Harmonian strategist. And he was under Apple's guidance. Rina knew the scholar of war from her time with the New State Army during the Dunan Unification War. Dusty and dry as a bone, Apple had never been the type of share a drink with Rina at the tavern in North Window Castle, but she trusted her judgment.
Rina nodded slowly. "And what kind of strategist are you?"
Caesar laughed. "I'm the kind of strategist who wants to preserve lives." He shrugged. "Truth be told, Albert would argue his way works better. It's a difference of opinion, you might say."
Rina considered this. She scanned the perfectly formed squares of phalanx arrayed before Chisha, sunlight glittering off their helmets.
"Bishop Sasarai…" she murmured. "He will unleash the power of the True Rune. No preamble, no tests of strength. He means to wipe us out in one swift blow."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caesar stir, give a start. She hadn't meant her words as a question, but he said, "Yes."
Rina saw a solitary figure on horseback draw forward, ahead of the main column. The neatly arranged squares of the Harmonian phalanx rippled and parted like water for the approach of Bishop Sasarai.
"Dear spirits," Rina said. "It is beginning. Please, keep us safe." Rina ran her eyes over the village, taking it all in. She felt a need to shout orders, but there was nothing more to say. The trenches had been dug, the ramparts raised. The warriors knew what to do, scattered about the rapidly abandoned houses, prepared to strike as guerrillas once the Harmonians approached the village. Their role was merely to slow the Harmonian approach as much as possible. Nothing more. The Grasslanders needed to keep the main Harmonian lines busy, slow their advance, and ensure that there was no open ground for the Harmonian cavalry to circle round and trap them. If that happened, only surrender remained.
Rina's heart pounded as she watched Sasarai nudge his mount forward, still out of bowshot. She felt sick. "True Runes must have a limit, don't they?" She thought back, to Riou and the Bright Shield Rune. There had been limits to his power. And even Sasarai had been turned back in battle, once before. But Rina's army had had True Runes of their own, then. Hugo, you'd better bring that damned rune back, she prayed.
Bishop Sasarai stopped, just out of reach of the Kinese longbows. A few arrows sailed towards him nonetheless, loosed by terrified warriors. The shafts buried themselves in the earth well before they reached the bishop. He raised his arms, and even from this distance, with the rising sun in her eyes, Rina could clearly see the gleam of a true rune's glow.
At first, Rina felt only a tremor. The house began to shake beneath her feet. Then the plaster failed, shaking loose dust and gravel. She heard screams now, in the village. Something heavy fell, and there was a loud crack. A sudden violent shake rocked the building, knocking Rina off her feet. Her shoulder struck the stone before she bounded back up. Caesar and Apple stood, dazed. The shaking was growing worse.
"Quick, we have to get down from here!" Caesar cried out.
"No…" Rina mumbled, "Not yet." She thought of the people running back and forth below, still gathering their belongings and setting out from Chisha. She thought of the caravan of refugees pushing onward, dragging small children by whatever means necessary. She knew the act was ultimately futile. But if she could buy her people just a few more moments…
Rina unleashed the power of her Mother Earth Rune. She reached down, past the dead rock of the trembling stone structure, further down, past the grass, and into the fertile soil of Chisha. There, she felt the intrusion of the True Earth Rune as an alien presence, something unwelcome. An invader. She reached for that shivering presence, tried to push it back.
The scream that wrenched free from Rina's mouth was horrifying even to herself. Her head spun, then began to ache as if she'd been punched in the face by a circus strongman. Such power! The True Earth Rune pushed back, and her skull quaked and trembled with pain.
She was faintly aware that someone was clutching her arm, helping to steady her. She could hear speech, but the words were faint and hard to make out. Concerned questions? Frowning faces? She couldn't say. Gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, Rina fought back against the True Earth Rune. She felt as if pushing against a great boulder, hoping to slow its descent down a steep slope. It was futile, the outcome as inevitable as if written in the stars. And yet she continued to push, gasping against the pain. She could slow it, make him fight for it. Resisting Sasarai, fighting him with her will, Rina felt something of a connection between the two. Staring out at the lone figure on horseback, ahead of the army, it was as if her eyes could zoom across the intervening distance, rushing over the grassy field. She saw the bishop as through the eyes of an eagle. His white horse stood still as a statue. His blue-and-white robes rustled in a faint breeze. His face-
Rina's eyes shot open. The shock of that familiar face stole the breath from her lungs. As her resistance faltered, the True Earth Rune toppled her will in an instant. Rina sagged to her knees.
"Rina!" Caesar held her by the arm, with Apple on the other side. "Please, we have to leave!"
"I…" Rina tried to speak, but she felt parched. Her limbs ached, her muscles numb as if drained by hours of running. The building trembled, and cracks tore through the rooftop, gaping wider by the inch.
They retreated down the stairs, Rina stumbling along, needing their strength to keep her up. "So this is the power of a True Rune bearer… Did I… did it work at all?"
Caesar gave a thin smile. "You slowed him."
Rina laughed bitterly. "I could see his face."
Caesar looked confused.
"His face… I've seen it before."
The innkeeper had seen a thing or two in this time. He'd traveled up and down the border as a matter of habit in his mercantile days, seen all the towns and cities on the northeastern trade loop. Why, once he'd even gone as far as the city of Muse, chasing a girl and making a fool out of himself. He'd seen knights patrol the highway, their polished shields and helmets gleaming with the reflected sun. He'd seen soldiers on parade, fencers in duel, even seen bandits sack a caravan once (from a distance, on a hill). Spirits, even his humble inn, The Overladen Swallow, saw its share of mercenaries when their pockets filled with potch from some venture or other. But the innkeeper had never seen a fellow quite like the one who shoved open the door on this night.
The innkeeper paused, rag and tankard in hand. The whole common room paused. On a slow night like this, no more than ten people took up seats at his seven battered tables. A few regulars, nursing tankards of ale and talking about the day's work. Traveling companions putting up at the inn, their horses stabled and their riding boots doffed for a warm supper before bed. There had been quiet conversations, the occasional laugh, but all that stopped when the man in black came in the door.
He was tall, this one. Clad in a dull black breastplate and a horned black helmet that hid his eyes. A heavy cloak trailed behind, barely moving in the draft from the open door. Above his shoulder, the hilt of a two handed sword poked up, its weight distributed over the warrior's body by a baldric across his chest. For a long time, he just stood there, watching the room. The innkeeper swallowed hard. "Welcome to The Overladen Swallow, good sir," he croaked.
The dark knight came over. "I require a meal. Ale. And a room." When the dark knight spoke, the silence of the common room broke. People started to murmur again, to move. The innkeeper reckoned he could hear the hiss of expelled breath, a collective sigh of relief. Perhaps it was his imagination.
The innkeeper licked his lips, glancing at the sword hilt at the man's back. He still couldn't see his eyes. Fringes of opal-black hair protruded from the rim of the helmet, further obscuring his features. He looked young. Or ageless. "There's no… You can't wear that sword in here."
The dark knight slammed a hand down, startling the innkeeper. When the stranger opened his fist, heavy coins clattered onto the tabletop. The innkeeper's eyes widened. Gold. You didn't see that type of coinage much round here, with potch being the standard and all.
"My sword never leaves my side," said the dark knight. "Understood?"
The innkeeper's throat felt parched as paper. Damn it, but he needed a drink to steady his nerves. That eyeless glare… it made his skin crawl. "Certainly, sir," he managed to squeal.
The innkeeper escaped into the kitchen, if only to hide away from the ominous figure while the food was being prepared. Counting the coins and biting them to check the metal, his eyes bulged, threatened to pop out. Sure enough, but the coins were real. A small fortune.
When the innkeeper returned to the common room with the platter and a tankard of ale, the dark knight sat motionless at a table in a corner. True it was that the sword never left his side - even seated on a bench, the dark knight's sword leaned against his leg. Setting the platter of mutton and steaming hot soup down before the stranger, he noticed that the sword's scabbard bore a distinctive pattern of crimson scrollwork etched into the lacquer. His eyes lingered on the hilt as he pushed the tankard towards the dark knight, feeling drawn to the blade as to a great mystery. It seemed… alien, somehow. Not of this world.
The innkeeper straightened, clearing his throat as he did. "What brings you to these parts?" he asked. What he wanted to ask was 'will you stay long?' or even 'will you leave first thing in the morning? Can we help to hasten your departure at all?'
The dark knight took so long to reply, the innkeeper was just about to bow out when the man spoke. "Just passing through."
The innkeeper hoped the relief didn't show in his eyes. "Going somewhere bigger and better, eh? Got no women here either, if that's what you're looking for…"
The dark knight clasped fingers round his hilt suddenly, making the innkeeper jump. "I'm looking for a man."
Now, the innkeeper knew there were some who swung that way. But this fellow didn't look the sort. He swallowed, desperate to moisten a mouth as dry as sand. Once again his eyes were drawn to the sword. Couldn't look away. No, whoever this man (if he was indeed a man and not an evil spirit) was looking for had a stabbing of a different, most unpleasant kind to look forward to. The innkeeper waited until he was back in the kitchen before shuddering, rubbing his arms for warmth, even this close to the cooking hearth.
When next the innkeeper dared poke his head out into the common room, the dark knight had departed to his room. Clearing his table, the innkeeper noticed that the man hadn't taken even a sip of his ale. It had gone warm and stale where it stood. On the platter, his soup had cooled, his leg of mutton untouched.
The next morning, the man was simply gone. His bed didn't even look slept in either.
The innkeeper got rid of the gold coins that same day.
One never quite got used to it. Teleportation magic. Luc closed his eyes in his shadowed tent amid the din and noise of the Harmonian camp. When he opened his eyes anew, he breathed in mountain air, but the shock of the translation from one place to another set him gasping for breath. His body shuddered, and for a brief but excruciating moment, he felt as if the world were merely an illusion, a patchwork blanket laid over a great abyss, with nothing in it.
High above Caleria, the setting sun glared at the mountainside, painting the ancient upthrust rock formations in hues of red and orange. Luc walked in a circle, filling his lungs with the thin Calerian air as he pinpointed the distant settlement. Close enough to see Caleria's stone-and-mortar houses with their colorful awnings as tiny shapes dotted with strong colors, but too far for the townspeople to spot Luc and the others atop the mountain. The first torches bobbed along the shadowed streets, and candles were lit in windows.
They gathered there, his faithful. Four of them, together, but more than enough to issue a challenge that would shake the foundation of the world. Sarah sidled up beside him, close enough for comfort, but distant enough to show her respect. She still looked faint and pale from the teleportation spell, but he could smell the scent of soap on her hair. It pleased him.
"Again, this place," Albert said, frowning. "Why?"
Luc clasped his hands behind his back. "The Perpetuator moves to counter us. The Vessel was awakened." He thrust a gloved finger at Caleria's distant silhouette, where shadows crept longer and longer from the houses with the setting sun. "It draws near."
With two of the runes within striking distance, Luc had to choose his prioritizes. The True Fire Rune, sealed somewhere beneath Caleria since the end of the Fire Bringer War, fifty years ago. Its theft from Crystal Valley had precipitated more than one conflict, and Sasarai's invasion was founded on the pretext of this insult to Harmonia. Even if the rune ended up in the hands of the Grasslanders, it would matter little. He could simply take it back. What concerned him more was the risk that the Perpetuator would claim the True Rune.
He swung around to the black-clad warrior at his side. "Yuber." He motioned towards the mountains. "Set your sentry. Make sure the Vessel never reaches the True Fire Rune."
Yuber needed no more instruction. His face split in a wide grin. The grin of a demon swallowing the world. The Vessel was dangerous, even without the True Fire Rune. Hundreds of Fire and Rage Runes were woven into its skin. When it took the form of a dragon, its power was immense. When presented with the problem of how to guard the True Fire Rune without dividing their group, Yuber had leaped to the opportunity. The dark knight reveled in the irony of the solution.
Yuber snatched his twin blades from their sheaths. "At last, after this eternity of squashing gnats, you give me something worthwhile to kill. I will show you the limitless potential of King Crimson. Let me show you the World of Wings and Scales…"
Sarah gave a tortured noise. She spoke carefully. "This may be a foolish choice. The things that come out of that chaotic place are difficult to control..."
Yuber barely reacted. If anything, the thick coat of disapproval in Sarah's voice only stoked his passion. Stepping back, Yuber turned and slowly wandered across the sparse grass of the mountainside. His head scanned back and forth, as if searching for something lost. Finally he stopped quite abruptly to stare at a spot seemingly chosen at random.
Yuber leaned back, throwing out an arm at the space before him. Mumbling something under his breath, Yuber unleashed a burst of energy from his mysterious True Rune. It stirred the air, causing a ripple to spread. Throbbing, the very fabric of the world seemed to tear and fray at this one spot. Yuber hesitated only a moment before slashing his swords through the ripple, as if severing arteries. His two blades cut through the ripple one by one, in an X formation. The ripple seemed to burst, and large boils of translucent energy began to appear, each one growing to the size of a melon before popping, disappearing. The popping picked up steam, until the air before Yuber resembled boiling water in all its ferocity.
"This is too dangerous," Sarah muttered. Luc felt her glance on his cheek, but said nothing. He needed to see this. Needed to know that there was something beyond this world of rules and laws and stifled breaths.
Again, Yuber slashed at the air, once, twice. This time, a gash tore open, like the seam of a sleeve ripping and tearing along the length. A widening gap in the world's fabric appeared before them, growing slowly but steadily. Luc took a half-step forward almost involuntarily.
Great claws, each the size of a barrel, shot out of the breach and clutched its sides. Black as night, the scaly hide of the claws had cracked and broken in places. They tensed with strain, wrenched the narrow space apart. Through that widening rent in the world, the reptilian head of the dragon emerged. Its head was as black as onyx, its rows of teeth visible in its maws like the grin of a skull. It appeared in profile, one dimly gleaming ruby of an eye scanning its new world, but then the monster swung its head towards Luc, as if sensing for its summoner. The dragon's gemstone eyes squeezed half-shut, vertical pupils dilating and contracting as it studied its prey. Smoke curled from its half-closed mouth, drifting about its head like pipe smoke in a closed room.
Sarah stepped forward, shielded Luc with her staff. He could sense her power waxing as she readied half a dozen elemental runes, anticipating the dragon's possible attacks. Luc put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't interfere."
"My lord…" Sarah protested, not taking her eyes off of the dragon.
"Wait. Watch." He squeezed her shoulder, and felt her tension melt away. A little. He needed to see this, needed to understand the mystery of what Yuber was trying to accomplish. There was so much Luc did not know, about the worlds adjacent to his own. What secrets hid there, in the void? What answers might be found in the abyss? He tried to spy past the dragon, into the World of Wings and Scales, but all he could see of that mythical realm of the dragons was chaos, and darkness. Strange, shadowed shapes seemed to float in the void beyond, but Luc could make no sense of it. This creature, he realized, was no mere beast, not even a monster. It was a horror from another, inconceivable world.
Yuber had sheathed his swords. He closed in on the dragon, tilting his hat back and lifting a hand to caress its scaly head. "I have summoned you."
The dragon's head swung slowly around, until its eyes gleamed inches away from Yuber's face, its nostrils rubbing against the devilish warrior's breastplate, flaring with agitation. It stayed there for a time, its body still stuck midway between two worlds. They stared each other down, the dragon's hissing breath the only audible sound. After a time, the dragon averted its gaze, bowing its head. It reared back.
And breathed fire.
Everything happened in a moment. A torrent of flame vomited forth from the dragon's wide-open jaws. Albert shouted. Sarah's staff glowed with magic as she unleashed a rage rune in defense. Luc gently shoved her back with one hand, raising the other to draw upon the power of the True Wind Rune. A great barrier of air sprung to life. The barrier surrounded the three of them. The last thing Luc saw before the barrier winds erupted was Yuber. The warrior was engulfed in dragonflame.
It was Yuber's laughter that convinced Luc. Even above the howl of gale force winds, Luc's affinity with the accursed True Rune allowed him to hear even the rolling of a pebble or the squeak of a mouse through that barrier. Hearing Yuber laugh, he was convinced to drop the barrier. He made the winds dissipate.
The rift between worlds was gone. Where it had opened, the dragon now crouched on its belly. Fully emerged into their world, the dragon seemed to kneel, if such could be said of the creature. A fresh gash adorned its head, cutting straight over its right eye. The ruby has lost its luster, though the wound was swiftly healing into a distinctive straight scar.
Yuber towered above the dragon, his long blonde hair tossing as he howled with laughter. His shoulders shuddered with mirth, his arms shaking with adrenaline. Dark energy swirled around the devil's body, residues of what fell power the man had unleashed upon the great reptile. Yuber's hat and suit had burned to a crisp. The devil himself had not been touched by the flames, nor a single hair on his head. He stood over the dominated dragon, naked as a newborn child.
As they watched, too stunned for words, the dark bands of swirling energy around Yuber began to take shape, coalescing into something more solid. The bands wrapped around his body, sheathing him in what looked like solid pitch. Then the substance molded itself, taking on form and detail. As Yuber calmed and relaxed his limbs, black plate armor chased with gold edging encased his body. The pitch wrapped itself about his head and took on the shape of a horned helmet. It was only after the helmet hid Yuber's eyes that Luc realized he had not caught even a glimpse of them.
Yuber turned to Luc and bowed his head, ever so slightly. He extended a hand towards the docile dragon at his feet. "Here is your sentry, Lord Bishop."
Luc could not help but shudder.
Geddoe shuddered, glanced over his shoulder at the window. He'd have to get involved, now. The past couple of days had been a slew of signs, some subtle like the constant twitch of an eyebrow, others more on the nose like when he'd find himself staring at shadows, blinking away the memory of what he would have, moments ago, sworn to be a real, live, man. He'd never admit as much to the others, would rather play along and chalk it up to the tankards Ace kept tall and brimming with ale. Truth was, though, Geddoe had a sixth sense about those things. Especially when 'those things' included a certain undying Harmonian rune-weapon unleashed on Geddoe and his companions oh fifty years ago. It was sealed in his bones, that connection. That's what the twitching of his eyebrow was. Yes, the signs sure had been bad enough, but the activation of not one but two unfamiliar True Runes within spitting distance of Caleria? That was the sort of thing Geddoe, captain of the 12th Unit of the Harmonian Southern Frontier Defense Force, could not sit back and let slide.
Geddoe sat on the edge of his tousled bed in the room he shared with Ace above the common room of the Waiting Mantis, slipping his boots on. A loud clatter of silverware and murmur of conversation filtered up from the common room, reached him easily enough through the slightly ajar door. Now and then the noise was broken by raucous laughter. He knew the tenor of those voices, for sure. His own squad, deep in their cups by now and gambling, bragging and posturing. He fought down a grin. He'd stepped out moments ago, and he wasn't going back down there. He had to leave. Now, while he was still sober.
Footsteps thunked against the hollow staircase. The door creaked as someone pushed it half-open, leaned on the frame.
"Mind some company?" said the dark-haired woman peeking through the doorway. Queen was still young, a raven-haired beauty with a swing to her step and a cocky smile that only got worse with each ale she downed. A stray lock of hair hung down her cheek as she leaned into the room, her cheeks rosy from the drink.
Geddoe laced up his boots. He already had his coat on, so she must have suspected something. Drunk she might be, but still a woman. They had eyes for details. "I'll be fine. I'm going out for a while." He didn't like lying to his team, but he couldn't see another way out of it. He couldn't involve them in this.
Queen pushed the door wide open, slamming it against the wall in her tipsy state. She sauntered into the room, skipping and stretching her arms and plopping down on the bed beside him. "Whew," she said. "I think I'm drunk."
Geddoe just grunted. He'd finished lacing up the one boot, so that just left the other.
Queen sat up, leaned against his shoulder. "You know… You're great."
Geddoe paused for long enough to give her a level look. "Aye. You are drunk, alright."
She laughed, leaning closer to snuggle her chin against his shoulder. She put her arm around him. She had her eyes closed, half-asleep. She slurred her words as she mumbled. "You know… You're really handsome. Geddoe. Ged. Geddy. Why don't I call you Geddy?" Her voice conveyed a shock at the oversight. "I should call you…" She hiccuped, which seemed to stir her somewhat. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. "Anyway. Want some company?"
Geddoe sighed. He liked Queen well enough. Runes knew, he'd sometimes thought of what those pink lips would taste like. In another life, wanting to know might have been enough. But then this wasn't another life. He knew he couldn't let this get anywhere, the damn rune had made sure of that. But he didn't have the heart to say it. He finished lacing his boots, glanced at Queen. Her eyes were closed again, for how long he wasn't sure. Ten years in Caleria. He'd always known he'd had to leave them eventually. Knew he shouldn't get too close. Well. Too late, he'd grown too damn attached to them already.
Geddoe lifted Queen's arm from his shoulder, causing the woman to giggle and wrap her arms around him. She lifted her head, bared her neck and parted her lips. Geddoe patiently pulled free and deposited Queen on her back in his bed. He stood over her.
"You're drunk. And I'm leaving."
"I'm not…" Queen had slumped back onto the bed, eyes drifting shut again. "I'm…" she mumbled. "Not so… There's just…"
Geddoe waited until she started snoring before he pulled the tousled blankets over his companion. Ace would just have to take Queen's room for the night. If the soldier even had the wherewithal to realize it wasn't Geddoe in the other bed when he stumbled back up.
The steps creaked as Geddoe snuck down into the common room. No chance for stealth, that's for sure, but he wanted at least to get down there without rousing the whole room.
The common room of the Waiting Mantis was near filled to capacity, even at this hour. Most of the men and women there were fighting men, many of them mercenaries either in Harmonia's employ or with an eye toward seeking gainful employment with the Harmonian recruiters who hung around the fortress at Caleria, always looking for talent with blades to empty their coffers at. Geddoe recognized dozens of former companions, rivals, friends, and even the occasional face from across the battle line at some long forgotten battlefield.
Near the center of the room was Geddoe's table. The tavernkeeper, Hraldon, kept it empty when his squad wasn't in town. It was a comfortable arrangement, going on ten years now. Geddoe liked his habits, liked to know where the ale spills and grease stains were, and what had put them there. Tonight, the chair he left was empty, and so was Queen's. In fact, only Ace and Jacques were still in their seats, arguing over the outcome of a dice roll. Well, Ace argued, mostly, rising halfway out of his seat and gesturing wildly, shouting and moaning. Jacques just shook his head now and then, calmly pointing at the dice. Just the two of them. Which meant…
"Ah, captain," said a voice just behind.
Geddoe turned to see a familiar weathered face. Joker had always looked like that for as long as Geddoe could recall, though he'd aged since they met. More than Geddoe had, that was for damn sure. Joker's features were rugged, lined by age and hardships. The easy smile he wore most of the time seemed almost out of place with that angular face, the groomed mustache, and the black hair pulled taut into a ponytail.
"What are you about?" Joker asked. His eyes wandered over Geddoe's clothes, took it all in. "Going somewhere?"
Geddoe cursed the man for a clever fool. For all that Joker drank half again as much as everyone at the table and seemed to stumble over his own toes in the small hours of the night, the man had a remarkable ability to suddenly sober up when a moment ago he'd been plastered.
"I'm just going for a walk," Geddoe said.
Joker seemed to weigh his words, though the smile never left his mouth. "Careful captain," he said. "Don't get her hopes up."
Geddoe nodded, somewhat relieved that Joker seemed to have misread the situation. Or had he? "I'll try. Goodnight, Joker."
"G'night, captain." With those words, Joker swayed towards the table, still holding the pitcher he'd procured from Hraldon at the bar. "Hey guys!" he shouted. "Good news! The well ain't run dry yet!" And just like that, the man was drunk as an ass again.
Geddoe walked out into the cool night breeze. The noise of camaraderie dulled behind him as the gravel crunched beneath his boots. He felt a stab of guilt. Joker's warning had gotten to him. And it wasn't just Queen. It was all of them, the damned fools. Runes knew he'd tried to keep his distance. Didn't seem to work though. And every day he hated the idea of leaving a little more. They all seemed like family to him, the only family he even remembered anymore.
Perhaps it was just as well that the True Fire Rune had finally returned to the fray. Geddoe had stuck close to the True Rune's resting place all these years because he'd sworn to protect it. Now that the Vessel had awakened, and True Runes were afoot, Geddoe's work was cut out for him. He couldn't let Reldin's legacy fall into the hands of Harmonia.
He'd have to finish the battle started fifty years ago.
Chris squeezed her eyes shut as the ground rushed up to meet them. She felt, more than saw, Fubar set down at a sprint, and her breath caught as the beast sent them bouncing with each leap. She didn't dare open her eyes until Fubar had trotted to a near stop, and she could imagine the beast between her thighs was a horse and not a winged griffin.
Thrice now, Chris had ridden on the back of the griffin, and each time the harrowing experience of flying through the air left her breathless and shaking. She felt sorry for the poor animal. She'd kept her legs clenched against its flanks with all her might. Astride a horse, such treatment would have seen her tossed from the saddle, but Fubar seemed remarkably patient. Her legs ached, and so did her hands and arms. She'd pressed flat against Hugo's back all the way from Chisha, eyes fluttering open only occasionally, never daring to take in the dizzying scenery below. Leaning back, she felt as she might faint.
"It gets easier," Hugo said. He hopped off the griffin with the unabashed ease of a man getting up from a short nap. He patted the griffin's head affectionately. "Thanks, Fubar. You can rest for the night, now."
Chris wondered if the beast could comprehend him. Horses could gauge the tone and intent of a person's words, even learn to recognize some as commands. Fubar showed remarkable intelligence, but she doubted if even the majestic beast could grow to truly understand human speech. Hugo acted as if speaking to a friend. Well, Fubar was that.
Chris breathed a sigh of relief. She swung a leg over to slide down, and gave a start as strong hands reached up and took her weight. She floated to the ground in Hugo's gentle grip. For a moment he held her by the waist, and she looked up into his sharp ice-blue eyes. Neither of them looked away.
Chris's breath quickened, and she felt her hands tighten slowly on his forearms. Blue eyes. The Karayans had such distinctive, piercing eyes, contrasting against their dark skin. Where had that blood come from? They were not so different, the Zexens and the clans. All her life she'd been raised to hate the barbarians, to distrust and resist their primitive beliefs, their lack of faith in the goddess. Now she found that, little by little, she did not hate them. After all they'd been through, she found all those closely held convictions slowly washing away, and felt lost. Their two peoples stood on a precipice, grappling, hands at each other's throats. Zexens and Grasslanders would rather choke the life from each other's throats than clasp each other's hands in friendship. Could Hugo and she begin to heal those age-old wounds?
Hugo coughed. "Ah, I, maybe we should… The cave should be here somewhere." He released her waist and stepped back.
Chris looked down, running her hands through her hair. She had seen her face in his eyes, and her hair looked a mess. "The wind, it… Flying wreaks havoc on my hair." She felt her cheeks burning. Why'd she said that? To spare herself further embarrassment, she trotted over to the darkened cave mouth. With the sun about to set, the western sky's golden glow illuminated the rock face well enough, including the deep alcove set into the jagged surface. The grassy ground sagged at the entrance, and shorn rock jutted out beside the natural arch, supporting thorny bushes and scrappy acacia trees. Mossy roots and branches hung down from above, obscuring the cave entrance. Chris ducked and pushed aside the roots, revealing the barrier behind.
Chris put her hand to the face of the gates, and felt the cold kiss of metal. Iron gates, and wide enough to drive a carriage through. She ran her hand over the carved surface, tracing her fingers over the embossed runes found there. "Goddess, these gates are fit to guard a fortress! Brass Castle could not match them. The Flame Champion made this?"
"Mother says these caves are ancient," Hugo said, "from a time long before the Karaya. The Flame Champion chose the perfect place to hide his True Rune." He too put his hand against the iron surface, frowning. "It's getting dark. If we're going to figure out how to open the gates, we need light, and time. If we can't get the gates open tonight, we'll have to make camp here. I'm going to fetch firewood."
Hugo returned some time later, carrying a stack of broken branches along with a rabbit brought down by a quick shot of his sling. He set about building a fire.
Chris leaned against the cave mouth while Hugo built the fire, deep in thought. Yun's words echoed through her head like a bag of marbles emptied onto the floor. It is not set in stone what will happen in Chisha. But you have a chance to change the outcome. Had Chris changed the outcome? Had her presence made anything better? She wasn't so sure. She had slain a brave and powerful saraak warrior. She had clashed with the chiefs. She had failed to remove Bishop Sasarai.
But Yun believed Chris was needed in Alma-Kinan. Why? Was the girl bluffing, trying to get Chris to commit to some inscrutable course of action? It seemed strange to imagine the girl capable of such brazen deception. Yun had eyes that seemed… honest. Too honest. The kind of eyes where, if you looked too deeply, you might find yourself blurting out your deepest secrets. An oracle who hears the voices of the spirits. That's what Yumi had called Yun. What weren't they telling her?
Chris needed to end the bloodshed. Her time with Captain Huarn and the Harmonians had showed her the futility of this conflict. If the Grasslanders possessed the True Fire Rune, it might force Bishop Sasarai to retreat. If the rune could help bring about a cessation of conflict… The Goddess would surely guide her step. She would gladly give her life for that, if necessary.
Chris shook herself and shoved away from the rock face, walking over to sit near the newborn fire below Hugo's cupped hands. The Karayan blew gently into the flame to kindle the sparks. Chris watched the sparks and tried to chase the thoughts from her mind. Soon enough, the fire roared to life, and the rabbit roasted on a hastily sharpened stick above it. Chris's mouth watered at the smell, made her realize how hungry she was.
"The True Fire Rune," she said, partly to distract her growling stomach. "Somewhere within these caves rests that primeval power." She found it hard to wrap her head around that thought. She couldn't quite pin it down. "A power to rival any force in this world."
Hugo stared at the fire, his only reply a grunt.
There was no easy way to broach the topic, so Chris decided to just come out and say it. "One of us will have to become its bearer."
That swung Hugo's head around. "What do you mean, 'one of us'? It has to be me. The clans would never accept an-… a Zexen." Chris knew the word he'd stumbled over.
"Hugo, you do not understand. The True Runes are not just weapons to be wielded. They are much more than that. It is said that the bearers of True Runes are immortal, that they lose some of their humanity. To wield such a power, or be wielded by it… That has to bear down on a man's soul."
Hugo stiffened. "I can handle it. I must. For the Grasslands."
"There is more at stake," Chris said, making her voice stern, "Than the Grasslands. Fifty years ago, the Flame Champion lost control of his rune and nearly destroyed your homeland. A power to destroy nations - that is the power you claim to be ready to wield."
Hugo glared at her. "And you think you're ready to wield it?"
Chris held her hands up in a placating gesture. "I do not believe anyone truly is."
Hugo shrugged, directing his gaze back at the flickering campfire and the rabbit he rotated above it. "Well. Like you said, one of us has to bear the rune." Something in the way he said it pleased Chris beyond words. It was the implication - that he trusted her to bear the rune, if it came to that. "But you're a fool, Chris Lightfellow" he went on. "You tell me this power is dangerous, maybe more dangerous than anything. Fine. I got that. But then you tell me you should bear the rune, like it's the natural conclusion. Because what, you're the captain of the knights? Because you're older than me?" Hugo turned to face her, staring her down. "You still treat me like a child. You can be a fool, sometimes."
Chris stood up. "Hugo..."
Hugo got to his feet, pulling the rabbit from the stick. He tore a grilled haunch from the body, handed it to her. "Don't think I'm ungrateful. But understand this. I'm a warrior since the day I was born. I'm a chieftain's son. If the Grasslands are going to burn, I'd rather be the hunter than the rabbit. I'll bear the rune. Whatever it takes."
Chris saw firelight reflected in his eyes, and sensed determination burn within. She knew in that moment that he'd never change his mind. She would press the issue no further. When the time came, she would do what must be done. Staring into his eyes, she something else too. She saw the truth in his words. She knew she would never again see him as a child.
When the first twilight of dawn filled the sky, Chris and Hugo had been huddling together by the smoldering fire for hours, poring over the delicate script of the Flame Champion's journal. Chris's eyes strained from the effort, and her temples ached. Together they'd pierced the secrets of the iron gate's runes, and the magic that slept within the gate itself. A "Sindar ruin", the Flame Champion had called it. Now that they stood in the cave mouth, their hands worked in concert over the arcane runes, tracing out the patterns and intoning the words to awaken the sleeping magic. The sun rose behind them, casting the iron gates in faint light.
When Chris uttered the last syllable, there came a clicking sound. Then the gates split down the middle and began to grind open of their own volition. Chris stepped back, steadying herself on Hugo. Wide-eyed, she stared at the yawning opening between the gates. Reddish sunlight lanced in between them, causing the gates to glow with an angry glare. Suddenly, Chris felt an evil premonition. The light. It was coming from the west.
Chris turned. Fire burned in the western night sky. Flames leapt from the inferno marching towards them. At its heart, she saw a shape she had hoped never to see again. A shape that chilled her to the bone.
Wreathed in flame, a dragon marched into view.