Chapter 44: Triumphant Return

Lily crossed the courtyard with her head held high, and the Karayan warriors parted to let her through. She walked up to the midway point between the Grasslanders and the Zexen soldiers under Sir Galayd's command. There, she held up her rapier, and made a show of sheathing it. "Don't attack, Sir Galayd. We have no quarrel with Zexen soldiers."

She did her best not to sway on her feet. She felt light-headed, and suddenly wondered how much blood she had lost.

Sir Galayd frowned. Now that she was closer, she could see that he had a boyish beauty to him. He was young, perhaps even younger than Lily. "I find that hard to believe, milady, given that you have just invaded a Zexen fortress and killed scores of our soldiers."

"You know that's not true. These men were Harmonians masquerading as Zexen soldiers. We act in the name of the Captain of the Knights."

Sir Galayd hesitated. Even in the dark, she could confusion on his face. "Milady, you jest. Sir Alron commands this fortress in the name of the Council. He would never condone this. Who are you?"

Lily drew closer, until she was about ten paces from the knight. She sensed the tension in Galayd's men, but these men were disciplined soldiers. They would make no move without a direct order. "I am Lily Pendragon of Tinto." Shock painted the knight's features. "I am a companion of the TRUE Captain of the Knights. Chris Lightfellow."

Disciplined the soldiers might have been, but this news startled even the most hardened of them. A ripple of confused voices passed through the host, until Galayd raised his hand and called out: "Silence! Order in the ranks." His eyes never left Lily. "Lady Lily, that is a truly brazen lie. Lady Chris, may she shelter in the Goddess' arms, fell in battle some time ago. Surely you must have known this."

From the back ranks of the column came startled shouts. A murmur of voices began to rise, traveling all the way to the front. In the back, the soldiers were parting to admit someone.

"I do not shelter in the Goddess' arms just yet." Chris' light soprano cut through the din. "Despite what our enemies would have you believe!"

Soldiers parted where Chris approached. Men and women stared openly, mouths agape. Many had tears in their eyes. Some fell to their knees, clasping their hands in prayer.

Sir Galayd seemed to shudder in the saddle as Chris approached him. After a long moment seemingly spent in a daze, the knight leaped from his steed and knelt before the Silver Maiden. "My captain! Praise the Goddess!"

Lily let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Her legs felt like wet paper beneath her. Feeling faint, she sat down in the middle of the courtyard, and buried her face in her hands.

Luc stepped forward to touch the great doors, feeling cold iron against his fingers. The light of Sarah's Fire Rune chased the shadows from the great cave, washing over the doors and illuminating the symbols traced there.

Luc traced the embossed runes upon the doors. As he mumbled the Sindar words they represented, his pulse quickened. Here in the caves of the Saraak, deep beneath the windswept Grasslands, hid the power of the ancients. Beyond these iron gates, Luc would find that which he had been searching for so long. A weapon powerful enough to realize his dreams.

The Ceremonial Site. A Sindar ruin. Within, the ancient Sindar people had left behind a mechanism capable of harnessing the full potency of the Elemental True Runes. I finally have the means to make my dream a reality, he thought.

Luc turned to Sarah, and nodded sharply.

Sarah raised her staff and set the Sealing Rune aglow. Pale blue light blossomed from the unaffixed emblem that hovered above the crystal-capped staff. Sarah closed her eyes and slid her hands up the shaft, muttering an incantation. With one final sharp syllable from her lips, the Sealing Rune flashed, and its light blossomed to a bright glare that threw back the darkness of the cave, revealing every nook and cranny of the naked stone to the three people standing within the cave.

When the light washed over the iron gates, a hissing sound emitted from the barrier, as if hot rocks had been tossed into water. The arcane runes carved into the gates came alive, writhing and pulsing with power. The magical barrier, placed there by the Triumvirate decades ago, trembled. For several long moments, the barrier shuddered and groaned. With a great and resounding crack, the barrier shattered.

The shield upon the Sindar ruins had come undone.

The light of the Sealing Rune withdrew, casting the cave's ceiling back into shadow. Luc strode forward, heart pounding with excitement. His breath came shallow as he pressed his hands against the doors and gave a firm shove.

The iron doors swung open with a terrible grinding noise. Stepping through the crack, Luc entered the Sindar ruins, and became the first person in a generation to lay eyes upon the interior.

As if in answer to his questing eyes, light flickered to life within the ancient chambers, dimly illuminating the pathways and mechanisms inside.

For a moment, Luc stood as if paralyzed. He squeezed his eyes shut. Thank the fates, he thought, I have the last piece of the puzzle.

Morning light slanted through the open windows of the captain's quarters. Chris's quarters, once more. But the occupant of those quarters had, unfortunately, a splitting headache. No wonder, Chris thought, given what Alron tried to do to me in this very room. The fact that she had only had a few hours of sleep did not help, either.

There had been some changes in the drawing room. The table upon which Alron had tried to strangle her had been made into firewood, replaced with a simple trestle table meant for the captain's command tent on field campaigns. It suited her fine. She had had the bed replaced as well. Excessive, perhaps, but she would rather sleep on the floor than rest in the same bed as that snake.

Chris sat on a chair, slumped forward over the table and the maps and missives Alron had kept in the room. The blood that had drenched the table had destroyed many of the documents outright, but some of them had been possible to salvage. Chris pored over the documents that remained, trying to make sense of what Alron had been up to.

The headache was somewhat amplified by the raw feeling on her left hand, where the emblem of a rune had been freshly carved. The Gale Rune. To affix it, she had procured the services of a mysterious runemistress among the refugees, an outlander by the name of Jeane. The runemistress had not been a difficult woman to find. Gossip about the woman had reached even Chris' ears mere hours after she had returned to the castle, and for good reason. Chris was not the sort of person to place undue emphasis on a person's physical beauty. There were so many other qualities more worthy of admiration, after all. Loyalty, courage, and intelligence, for instance. But Chris had to admit, with some embarrassment, the effect Jeane's grace and beauty had had on her. Her heart had raced at the mere touch of the runemistress' slender hand. She had almost fled the room on the spot rather than endure the full process of affixing the rune.

Jeane had, however, proven to be as skilled a runemistress as she was stunning. The Gale Rune felt like a part of her skin. She had not yet had a chance to test the rune's power, but she felt certain it would prove useful against the Destroyers.

Alron's sword lay on the table, for the moment functioning like a paper weight protecting the documents from the breeze from the window. Having had a chance to study the blade, she had concluded that it was an exceptionally well-crafted weapon. The sword, and the Crown Rune in its pommel, would serve her well.

The sounds of the bustling courtyard reached her through the open window. Hammers and saws worked there, while countless voices rang out and soldiers practiced maneuvers and weapons drills. It was an infernal racket, and it did no good for Chris' headache, but she needed to hear it, needed to know that preparations were underway.

It had been a busy night. By the time the Harmonian vanguard had reached the keep, the gates had been closed. The Harmonians had no choice but to retreat before the approaching Grasslander army. The Harmonian vanguard, consisting mostly of light cavalry, had set about harrying the approaching train of Grasslander warriors on their forced march. Only the Kinese archers had kept them at bay, and before dawn, Brass Castle had received thousands of men and women into its walls. The full force of the Grasslander alliance.

There would be little rest for the alliance's soldiers. Karayan scouts reported that the Harmonian army would arrive tomorrow. They had only a single day to recover and prepare their defenses. Then the siege would begin in earnest. The siege would decide the fate of Brass Castle, and with it, the fate of Zexen and the Clans hung in the balance. If the fortress fell, Harmonia would overrun the Grasslands.

If there even is a Grasslands, she thought bitterly. The Destroyers had the Sealing Rune, and three out of the five Elemental True Runes. It was no great stretch to imagine that the Masked Bishop would even now be preparing to break the seal that the Triumvirate had placed on the Sindar ruins. The Flame Champion, Geddoe, and… her father. Her father, a True Rune bearer! How strange that notion was to her. The knowledge that her father yet lived made her mind boil with questions unanswered.

To distract herself from the feelings of hurt and uncertainty, Chris threw herself into Alron's correspondence. Letters from the Council were stacked in sheafs before her. Head Councilor Adeline had attempted time and again to censure the captain of the knights, but Alron had simply ignored the letters. The most recent letters hinted strongly at a possible military intervention against the rogue captain. But Chris knew that her friend would have needed more time to build public support for what would be seen as meddling into the affairs of the knights, especially during wartime. Adeline still fought a bitter battle for control over Vinay. It would be some time before the new Head Councilor had rooted out all of her predecessor's cronies.

Sighing, Chris leaned back in her chair. She yearned for Sir Salome's counsel. The knight's wisdom and sharp insight would have been crucial to help guide her in these troubled times, not to mention that Sir Salome's formidable administrative talents certainly would have cut the time needed to prepare the castle's defenses in half.

Chris had shuddered at the sight that had met her as she descended into the dark, dank cells at the bottom of Brass Castle. The false captain had imprisoned the knight in the dungeons, where he had been forgotten and neglected. The man the lantern's light had found in the cell was emaciated, gray with pallor, and slow-witted with starvation and sickness. Salome had survived, thank the Goddess, and with the attention of the Kinese healers, he would recover. But it would be months before Sir Salome was in any condition to leave his bed, much less participate in the tender affairs of running a war.

A pity, Chris thought, that I cannot kill Alron more than once.

With the influx of the Grasslander army, the castle's infirmary had filled up with the wounded. Chris' lips twisted into a smile at the memory of Lily Pendragon being carried on a stretcher from the parapet, kicking and screaming and calling for her immediate return to the battlefield. In her delirium, Lily had sworn to ride out alone against the Harmonian army and rout them with nothing but her rapier and her force of personality.

None of Lily's wounds had been particularly grievous, but together they might have proved fatal if not for the Kinese healers. The wounds had been healed, but there was only so much magic could do. The body needed rest, too. Chris doubted if Lily would recover in time to take part of the battle for Brass Castle.

Thoughts of the wounded brought thoughts of those who had been lost. Sir Roland, who fell fighting the Grasslanders at Iksay. Sir Borus, who lost his way as a knight. Chief Sana, a victim of the war against the Harmonians. So many others. Chris wished there had been time to mourn, but until this war was won, there would never be. Reluctantly, she pushed her grief from her mind, focusing again on the documents before her.

The door to the chamber swung open. Chris looked up to see a black-haired man step into the room, an eye-patch prominent on his face.

Geddoe saluted, fist to chest. "Captain Lightfellow…"

"Geddoe," Chris breathed. She pushed the chair back and hurried over to him. "You are well?" Hesitantly she took his arm, patting him, scanning his face for signs of weakness. His face was lined with age and hardships, but he seemed much stronger than when last she had seen him, in a sick bed in Alma Kinan. How strong? she wondered.

Geddoe shook his head. "It's not me you should be worrying about." He held his hand up, displaying the emblem of the True Lightning Rune branded into his flesh. "As a bearer of an Elemental True Rune, I can sense the presence of the other four runes."

Chris nodded slowly. She knew this much. Geddoe's special connection to the other Elemental True Runes had proven decisive when the mercenary captain had come to their aid when she and Hugo confronted Yuber at the Sindar ruins.

"Except," Geddoe said, "There is one rune I cannot sense."

"You speak of the True Water Rune. The rune that my father bore."

"The rune he still bears," Geddoe corrected her.

Chris' brow knitted in confusion. She searched Geddoe's face for clues, but the man's features might as well have been carved from stone. "But… the True Water Rune is dormant."

"Until today."

A hot flush of realization flooded Chris' body. "What?"

"Last night, I felt the True Water Rune blossom to life. It can only mean one thing. The Destroyers must have lifted the seal of the Ceremonial Site. They have pierced the gates, and in doing so, the power of the True Water Rune has also been set free."

Chris felt her fingers bore into Geddoe's arm. She made herself loosen her grip. Her breathing came shallow, and she took a moment to try to slow it. "My father…"

Geddoe turned sideways, facing away from her. "I can sense his rune again. Wyatt is headed for the Ceremonial Site."

Chris took a step back, put a hand at her forehead. The room felt blazing hot all of a sudden. Her mind worked feverishly with the new information. Father's going to the Ceremonial Site to confront the Masked Bishop, she realized. Wyatt Lightfellow was a True Rune Bearer, and had helped set the ward on the Sindar ruins to prevent this very calamity. He knew the danger of the power that rested beneath the Grasslands. What he did not know was the strength of the foes he would face there.

She rubbed at her temples. "Father cannot hope to face the Destroyers alone." Every instinct she had cried out for her to go to him. For so long, she thought she had lost him. Now she had a chance to meet him. She could help protect him against the Destroyers. She could have the answers she needed.

But what about Brass Castle? she thought. She walked over to the window and regarded the people streaming into the courtyard. Karayans, Kinese, Chishans, Gani-Bara. Men and women of every clan, with the notable exception of the Saraaks. The castle was filled to the bursting point. The crowd in the courtyard was as thick as Chris had ever seen, even though the castle had been closed to travelers and merchants from the Zexen side.

These people depended on her. As lady of Brass Castle, she was their custodian. Their protector.

Chris turned to face Geddoe, and gave him a level look. "My place is here, with the alliance," she said. But the words felt weak. She found herself fingering the hilt of the sword Hugo had given her. She always wore it at her side.

"The Masked Bishop will be there," Geddoe said. "He will be vulnerable."

Chris frowned. "The fate of Zexen and the clans rests upon the battle for Brass Castle—"

"If the Harmonians capture the castle," Geddoe said in a slow and measured voice, "You will lose your freedom. But if the Masked Bishop succeeds in his true ambition, there will be nothing remaining of Zexen or the clans. Or the Harmonian army. Next to the calamity he plans—"

"This is our chance to strike," Chris breathed. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the hilt of Hugo's sword firmly. When she opened her eyes, Geddoe's fist glowed ghostly purple before her eyes. The True Lightning Rune.

"The Destroyers still need two more runes," Geddoe said.

Chris squared her shoulders and nodded solemnly. "Very well," she said. "We shall assemble a strike force."

When Luc finally found the chamber, he first mistook it for another cavern.

From the entrance chamber, Luc, Sarah, and Yuber had followed the pale flickering light set into the stone floor, through endless tunnels and past uncountable branches, until they arrived at the heart of the Sindar ruins.

The light of Sarah's Fire Rune strained up and up, but fell short of illuminating the great chamber's distant ceiling. The light in the floor ran right up to an immense mound of fallen rock. The path forward was blocked.

Sarah halted, smoothing dust from her skirts. "Another dead-end?"

Luc frowned, extending his senses through and past the rock. "No. There is something here." Something on the other side of the cave-in beckoned him. It was more than anticipation. The sensation reminded Luc of the tug of another Elemental True Rune. "Use the True Earth Rune, Sarah. Clear these rocks out of the way."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pale glow of the True Earth Rune flicker to life. He felt the bite of ancient magic descend upon the chamber. The rocks began to quiver, then tremble wildly. A giant chunk of rock lifted clear of the rubble. Sand filtered down from the liberated rock as the stone began to pulverize. Within moments the stone turned to dust that swirled in the air. The dust got into Luc's nostrils and tore a cough from him. Out of instinct, he activated the True Wind Rune and stirred the air into motion, clearing the dust even as Sarah worked.

It took her a few minutes, but with the power of the True Earth Rune, Sarah turned the rubble to a coat of sand on the floor. The walls and ceiling groaned in protest as she used the rune to reinforce the passage and prevent another rockslide.

Luc flicked his hand, and the True Wind Rune blasted clear a path forward. As the sand and dust retreated, it revealed the full extent of the ancient chamber, and laid bare a pattern of three concentric circles in the floor. The circles glowed with the same magic light that had guided them here. Air escaped his mouth in a hiss. There, at the center of the circles, rose a hulking machine that glinted in the torchlight of the Fire Rune.

Trembling with excitement, Luc approached. He reached out and ran his hands over the ancient machine. The metal was so smooth, the skin of his hands felt coarse and brutish when he touched it. The apparatus consisted of a series of metallic rings, collapsed into a hemisphere ten steps across. The rings lay nearly seamless against each other, surrounding a gleaming sphere. Remarkably, the machine's components seemed completely untouched by the hand of time.

"Sindar craftsmanship," Luc said, voice breathless with wonder.

Yuber slid into view beside Luc. "So, this is the fabled weapon of the Sindar? It looks unimpressive."

Luc shook his head. "There's more. There has to be." He ran his hands over the rings, searching for an impression, an indentation—anything to imply a hidden switch or button that would activate the machine. He found nothing. He took a step back and paused to gather his thoughts. As he watched the machine glimmer in the Fire Rune's light, he had an inspiration.

Slowly, he backed away from the machine, keeping a careful distance. He raised his hand and invoked the power of the True Wind Rune. With its power, he reached out and grasped the sphere at the heart of the machine.

The moment the True Wind Rune's magic touched the machine, it emitted a hiss. This was followed by a buzzing sound that hammered against Luc's ears. The machine stirred to life. Light appeared from the sphere, casting lances of light past the rings, against the walls, the floor, and even the distant ceiling. There was a crack as the Sindar machine's components shook loose an age of grime and inertia. The machine began to move, each metal ring revolving separately from the others, like the intricate parts inside a clock. The sphere lifted free from its slot and slowly floated up.

The machine's spinning rings grew in size, as if they were clay molded in the potter's hands. With a grinding noise like the squeak of dry hinges, the rings proceeded to spin on the horizontal and vertical axes, forming a shifting cage around the sphere inside.

With a sound like steam hissing from a pot, the sphere split. The sight reminded Luc of the flowing of honey from a spoon, or molten metal from a forge. First, the sphere split into two, then three, then four, until at last five separate spheres hung in the air inside the cage of spinning rings. Each of the spheres was a pale gray, and gave the impression of being a blank slate.

Luc fed the power of the True Wind Rune into the machine. One of the spheres began to glow with a bright green light matching the emblem of the rune on his hand.

"Sarah, the others," he said.

Sarah slowly nodded as she raised her staff, calling to life the runes of True Earth and True Fire. Two more of the dead spheres warmed with color as yellow and red light flickered into existence within them.

Luc drew a sharp breath. Three down, and the fourth will soon be ours.

Shivering with anticipation, Luc reached out with the power of the True Wind Rune, and commanded the machine. The earth trembled beneath their feet. Dust and pebbles shook loose from the ceiling. Luc stumbled, and lost control of the magic. The spheres' light faded, going cold and dark as before. The rings stuttered, and then the machine ground to a halt.

Steadying himself, Luc grinned. Such power! With only three of the Elemental True Runes at his disposal, even his slightest touch had caused the very earth to tremble around them. There was no doubt in his mind that once all five runes were assembled, this machine would grant him his most fervent wish. The destruction of a True Rune.

And with it, oblivion.

From back the way they had come, Luc felt the tugging of a kindred power. Familiar, yet not yet known to him.

"Yuber, stand guard. I believe our 'guest' is drawing near. We wouldn't want him to feel unwelcome."

The dark knight sketched an ironic bow, then departed the chamber. So engrossed in the machine was Luc, that he didn't even notice the man's receding footsteps echo behind him.

There was a light spilling from somewhere ahead, and Wyatt had his torch to guide him. Beyond that, the ancient highway was cast in darkness.

The ancient highway felt familiar beneath his feet. He had walked the two-mile passage countless times, but never before had the distance felt so long. His heart was in his throat as he trudged towards the great doors of the Sindar ruins. He held no illusion of what he would find once he reached the doors. The moment the True Water Rune awakened from its long slumber, he had known something terrible must have happened at Alma Kinan.

He hadn't been prepared for it. The power of the rune had returned with all the vigor of a tidal wave. The force of it had knocked him from his seat in the tavern where he'd been spending his evening, lost him the contents of an ale tankard, and earned him the scorn of the barkeep as well as the bemused mutterings of the other patrons. The other patrons of the tavern had looked up from their dicing and from their cups long enough to spare him the dirty look reserved for the kind of man who would tumble out of his seat after half a pint of ale.

He'd departed at once, leaving enough potch in his room to cover his bill. 'Borrowing' a few horses along the way, it took the better part of a day to make his way to the ancient highway, where he now found himself.

When the earth began to shake, Wyatt first mistook it for a trick of his mind. But as the tremor built in intensity, he had to kneel to keep his balance. The rock groaned overhead, and dust fell in sheets, sprinkling his hair and tunic in finely ground dirt.

The Ceremonial Site, Wyatt thought grimly. It's awakening.

Despite the near pitch-black darkness, Wyatt quickened his steps. He had to reach the machine and put a stop to this, before it was too late. Besides, whoever had attacked Alma-Kinan would be in there. He clenched his fists in anger.

I'll make you pay, you bastard.