Rune Awakening

by Genevra Black

“Where can I find him?” he asked as he raised his eyes again, though he knew his father must be leading first prayers. Marius had wasted hours delaying the inevitable lecture.

  “Just inside, Vivid Marius.” Nodding to her partner, she stepped aside to make way for Marius.

  Her expression gave him pause. He stopped short of opening the sanctum doors and looked at her—and she held his gaze. That was different. Usually, even the other vivids avoided looking at his eyes. Her expression gave him pause.

  After a moment, he asked, “Is there something I should know?”

  Ynga glanced over Marius’s shoulder at the other guard, then back at him. “Radiant Eirik is … not in a good mood.”

  Marius clamped his lips shut. Maybe the Radiant already foreseen his son’s failure. Or perhaps it was something else. Either way, avoiding him any longer would only make it worse. “My thanks for the warning.” He opened the sanctum doors and shouldered through.

  The nave was bathed in honey light pouring through enormous stained-glass windows. Auroran monks, adherents, and civilians alike had risen early for first prayers; they filled every seat in the nave, heads bowed. At the center of the transept, a little bit of light filtered in through the skylight. By the time noon arrived and the sun was directly above them, it would be as bright in the temple as it was outside.

  Beyond the transept was a dais and a lavishly decorated altar covered with offerings of food and alcohol. Standing before it was the Radiant of the Rising Divine.

  Eirik was a large man, his armor heavier and more intricate than Marius’s. Gold and bronze plate decorated his entire body, silver chainmail filling the gaps. He wore a white and gold tabard, and a greathelm that obscured even his eyes. Bronze plates covered the length of his right arm, from shoulder to vambrace, ending in the golden maw of a wolf.

  He led the crowd in prayer, his voice louder than the rest: they thanked Sól for rising another day and wished her swiftness; they asked Tyr for a blessing of bravery, glory, and righteous justice; they prayed to strengthen Fenrir’s bonds; they pledged themselves to the gods once again, and asked for places in their halls, Valhalla and Sessrúmnir.

  Marius knew every word. He mouthed the prayers, but made no sound.

  As the offering finally came to a close, Marius ducked to one side of the nave, starting up the aisle and toward the dais. Without pressure applied to it, his side radiated pain with every step. The worshipers relaxed and began milling, drinking, and talking amongst themselves as the ritual ended.

  Marius’s father met him at the transept, watching him knowingly, reproach already intense in his air. Without a word, he gestured for his son to follow him.

  They walked side by side through an alcove and up a short flight of stairs before turning left onto a covered walkway. To their left, stone more ancient than the face of the building protected the chancel and sanctuary; to their right was a cloister garden. Women attendants wearing white tunics sat on stone benches, weaving wreaths and tending to bowers of yellow blooms. Men worked nearby, constructing new chevron trellises along a stone walkway. They would work year-round, tending to the gardens. Winter rarely touched the temple.

  Instead of turning right to circle the garden, Eirik kept forward. Marius followed, dread and pain souring his stomach with every step.

  Each door was older than the last as they neared the center of the temple. They passed the heavy wooden door of the chapterhouse—a ceremony room, where Marius had sacrificed his hand just a few years earlier. At the end of the hall, the two ascended a narrow flight of stairs and entered another passage in silence, before reaching the Radiant’s private library.

  It was a massive oak room with intricately decorated columns, tall bookcases, and ancient wooden benches and statues. Knotwork and the faces of the gods were carved into the crown and the wainscoting. On the second story of the library, the Radiant’s similarly intricate desk sat on a balcony overlooking the rest of the room.

  He led Marius there, but the vivid lagged behind, standing several feet away from the desk as the Radiant circled it and removed his greathelm.

  His complexion was darker than Marius’s, his features broader, his warm eyes the color of clay. Long black hair was done in braided twists, and as he set his helmet on the desk, he swept them up and pinned them back with a golden clip. And still, he said nothing as he removed his left gauntlet—with some effort, using his teeth—then loosened the straps of his right arm-guard.

  Finally, Marius broke the silence. “I saw the girl again. The hellerune.”

  “I know,” his father said. He disassembled the lower half of his arm-guard, detaching it from its couter and laying it on the desk next to his helmet. His right arm ended at the wrist, which was wrapped tightly in linen. “But she is not with you.”

  So Marius had been right; his father had known he’d failed before he’d even arrived. He wondered what else the Radiant knew.

  Eirik’s foresight had always been as unpredictable and secretive as the man himself. He told Marius little of how his abilities worked—only that they had been a gift from a Norn, many years ago. The gift had served the Rising Aurorans well since Eirik had become Radiant twenty-five years ago. Their leader was strong, his lineage certain, and his conviction iron.

  “Tell me what happened,” Eirik said, sitting in the chair behind his desk.

  Marius subconsciously reached for his side again, remembering. “I know you told me to wait, but our time is limited. So I went to Shipshaven to find the valkyrie, the one you said might know where the Holloways had gone. She said she didn’t know and refused to tell me anything more.”

  “You went alone, despite my orders.” His father nodded to his side. “And you were hurt. How?”

  “I knew— I thought I could handle it. She … threw me across the room. Into a window. And a desk.” Marius sighed hard through his nose, looking away.

  “The valkyrie Fengrave may support the Reach, but I find it hard to believe she would attack a vivid without provocation.”

  There was no use in hiding what had happened. Father either already knew or had guessed. He was just waiting for Marius to say it himself.

  “She was giving me nothing. I knew she was lying about not knowing where the hellerune was. I became … frustrated.”

  Eirik was quiet for a moment before taking a measured breath, disappointment rolling off of him in waves. Marius would almost have preferred that his father shout and get angry; he had frustrated his other mentors to the point of fury before. But never his father. He’d never seen Eirik shout; it wasn’t likely he was going to start now.

  That didn’t keep Eirik’s voice from betraying his disapproval. “And so you attacked her. Do you have any idea what harm she could have done to you, if she’d been so inclined? Marius?”

  Marius bowed his head.

  Eirik watched his son for a moment, frowning tightly, before standing. “You’re young, and rash as ever. Marius … when I die, you will become Radiant. I have little foresight into my own fate; I could fall in battle at any time, son. I cannot have you acting so … recklessly. Even the best man cannot lead like that.”

  It seemed hypocritical to Marius. His father made unpredictable decisions all the time, without consulting his councilors or the country’s other Radiants. “But you—”

  “I see outcomes and trials most are blind to. You may not always understand why I do what I do … my child”—Eirik’s expression softened, and Marius bowed his head again—“but my decisions never come easily, never come quickly or in rage.” After a moment, he pulled a nearby chair up to his desk, motioning for Marius to sit. “You’re hurt, Marius. Sit down.”

  He did so, looking up at his father. He felt like a scolded child, and it wounded his pride. Marius was a grown man, an accomplished vivid—more powerful than most, even given his age. Eirik could talk all day about how he was to become Radiant, but he still spoke to Marius like he was a boy.

  Marius would never understand how his fa
ther could expect so much of him, yet still hold on so tight. If he weren’t on such a short leash, he knew he could accomplish so much more.

  But he said none of this as his father knelt beside his chair and searched his side. “Show me where it hurts the most.”

  Marius lifted an arm with a grimace, and placed a hand just below his ribs, further front than back. “I hit the desk here, and the back of my head struck the window.”

  “Did you not try to heal yourself?”

  “I tried, but … the chill. It’s hard to work through.”

  He didn’t admit the real reason he hadn’t healed himself. A vivid’s primary talents weren’t healing, but Marius’s skills were passable; he could have at least relieved his pain, if not healed the bruise completely. He had endured the pain because he knew he deserved it. He’d failed. The pain fed into the anger he felt at himself.

  Eirik didn’t utter a sound, though Marius was sure he had caught the lie. The silence only aggravated Marius’s chagrin as his father prodded the spot through the leather and chainmail armor. “Keep your arm raised, if you can.”

  Marius did. The pain was significant, but the man before him wasn’t just his father; he was his spiritual leader, and furthermore, his commander. Radiant Eirik never showed weakness. Marius doubted he even had a weakness. It wouldn’t do to appear weak in front of him.

  The Radiant took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he laid his left hand on Marius’s side. His warm brown eyes flickered gold for a moment, like sun filtering through stained glass, and the power flowed outward from his palm.

  The warmth was familiar. Marius had known it his whole life. At first, it was like lying in a beam of perfectly warm sunlight, but as the feeling spread up his side, it became hotter until it was a steady burn. It was painful, even for him; it took effort not to hiss or pull away, but he closed his eyes and exhaled until he felt the burn subside.

  When the fire was finally gone, so, too, was the pain. The light had burned it all away, cleansed the wound.

  Marius relaxed as his father stood. “Thanks.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I’m sorry.”

  Eirik didn’t acknowledge the thank-you or the apology. He simply rounded his desk again and sat, looking more worn than he had a minute ago. His eyes flickered once more before he closed them, resting his head on the leather of the wingback chair. “If you’re prepared to try to prove yourself once more, I have a mission for you. A very important one.”

  Marius nodded quickly. “Yes?”

  “A lightsteed won’t bring you with the haste required. I’ll have to order a pyre of translocation be built.” The Radiant opened his eyes, then leaned forward to look into his son’s face very seriously. “Have you ever been to Maine?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Edie and Cal sat, silently, in the parking lot of the vet clinic. Slowly, Cal lit up a cigarette and took a long drag.

  Edie held Hervey’s cage, empty now, in her lap. She shut her eyes tight for a moment before turning and stashing the cage in the footwell of the back seat. Poor Hervey. Poor vets. At least the hamster wouldn’t suffer anymore.

  She was pretty sure the vet was scarred for life, though.

  “Let’s never speak of that again,” she said.

  Cal grunted in agreement as he shifted Ghost into gear and peeled out of the parking lot.

  By the time they were blazing north up I-95, the sun was starting to rise, and Edie was starting to feel the sleep deprivation hit her—not only of the past several hours but of the night before, too.

  “Will you open the map?” Cal eventually asked, sounding irritated. “It’s in the dash.”

  She opened the glove compartment and spread the map open on her lap, trying to pinpoint their location. “Where’s that address she gave you?”

  Wordlessly, he shifted and reached into one of his back pockets, bringing out a folded piece of paper and offering to her.

  She read the address, raising her brows in disbelief. “Maine? You were going to drive me all the way to Maine and you didn’t think to mention that?”

  Cal rolled his eyes. “It’s, like, a four-hour drive. Three, the way I drive.”

  “Can we stop somewhere to sleep? Or eat?” She was filled with regret, thinking about that plate of fries she’d turned down a few hours ago.

  “Maybe when we get there.” He looked agitated at her insistence. He didn’t have to eat or sleep, which she guessed had made driving cross-country easier, but she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of napping sitting up and subsisting entirely on the mints in her bag.

  But, still, it was only four hours. Edie vented her displeasure with a heavy sigh, but didn’t argue. She wouldn’t win an argument with him, anyway.

  She looked back at the slip of paper. Reachbarrow Inn, Bar Harbor, ME. She remembered going to Bar Harbor maybe once or twice as a kid, mostly to go grave reading with her dad; vaguely, she remembered that everyone had seemed to know who he was and they’d all been very friendly. Looking back on it, she shuddered. Could it be possible they hadn’t just been polite, but scared of him?

  “So, what’s our exit?”

  Edie glanced from the slip of paper to the map. “We have to switch onto I-295 in Portland and then back in Gardiner, then take exit 182A to, um … 395, and thennnn … 6A, later.” She turned her head. “So, who’s Satara? Do you know her?”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “You just seemed to know Astrid pretty well….”

  Cal grimaced at her tone. “It ain’t like that. Trust me. Astrid is just one of the only people still around who knew Holloway almost as well as I did. As for Satara, don’t know her. Last I knew, Astrid had a different shieldmaiden.”

  Edie raised a brow. “What happened to her?”

  “Dunno. I was gone, remember?”

  “What are they even for?” Not really expecting a straight answer, Edie looked down and opened her bag, rifling through it.

  “Sometimes they’ll go into battle on behalf of the valkyrie, or with her, I guess. I never really had the chance to ask.”

  Edie was pleased to find a couple of loose sticks of gum. She glanced at him as she popped one in her mouth. “You were never curious?”

  “I said I never got the chance. Your daddy didn’t exactly encourage independent study.”

  She took the hint and changed the subject, as difficult as it was. “What’s this Satara need us for, then? What exactly are we supposed to do?”

  Cal sighed. “I dunno, something about a sorceress. Astrid didn’t really prepare us a fuckin’ PowerPoint. You ask a goddamn lot of questions, you know that?”

  “Well, excuse me for not having read the material, Professor 28-Days-Later.”

  Bitterly, he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Under his breath, she heard him mumble, “Brendan Gleeson is excellent in that.”

  Edie lurched forward and choked on her gum. After a moment of struggle, she was forced to swallow it, coughing. “Oh, yeah?” she managed through incredulous laughter. “Somehow, I didn’t peg you as a fan of zombie—”

  “Undead.”

  “Fine, undead movies. Whatever.”

  “Don’t whatever me. Can you imagine if every movie you watched starring some special white chick was called….” He gestured up and down to her, struggling for an analogy. “I dunno … Magical Cracker?”

  Actually, she might appreciate the straightforwardness. “Aw, you think I’m special?” she said teasingly, nudging him.

  He waved her off with a grumble of annoyance, but she swore she could see a hint of a smirk on his face.

  “Hey, kid. Edie!”

  Her eyes fluttered open, grainy from sleep and mascara residue. The car had come to a stop somewhere along a heavily-wooded road, the morning sun low in the sky, obscured by evergreens. There were no other cars around them. She thought she could still hear the highway nearby, but it was obscured by the tall pines lining the road.

  She squeezed her eyes shut again an
d rubbed them. Her palms came away smudged in black, and she groaned, but someone shushed her.

  She looked over quickly and jumped when she saw Cal’s face inches from hers. “Oh my— Fuck, don’t do that.” He was particularly scary up close, especially since she’d awoken confused. “Where are we?” She leaned away to squint at the woods to her right.

  Cal shushed her with a finger to his mouth, reaching with his other hand for the sawed-off shotgun stashed under the driver’s side seat. After a moment, his head swiveled to peer down the stretch of road they’d already cleared, which disappeared around a wooded bend.

  Edie was about to ask him why they’d pulled off the highway and were stopped like this, when she heard it, too: An engine, slowing down and then idling just out of view of their position.

  “Someone’s following us,” Edie realized aloud, looking to Cal.

  He nodded and gestured for her to get out of the car. She pushed the passenger door open and slid out; he did the same. Slowly, like Ghost was an animal he might startle, he patted the retracted soft top. On cue, it flipped open and folded itself over the car in a matter of seconds—a lot faster than Edie would have expected an old car to move. She guessed being haunted helped.

  The whirring of the soft top unfolding and the idling engine of the unseen car were the only sounds filling the silence for a few seconds. Then the idling stopped and the engine cut off.

  “Get behind the car,” Cal hissed.

  Edie ducked, lowering herself into a crouch on the roadside gravel, back pressed up against the passenger door. “Why’d you bring the top up?” she whispered as he dropped down beside her, kicking up some loose grit with his heels.

  He glanced over his shoulder, peering through the windows before turning back and starting to load his shotgun. “Less visibility. More cover if we have to make a getaway.”

  “A getaway? In this car?”

  “You bet, sister,” he scoffed. “She really moves. Now shut up so I can listen.”

  He readied the shotgun and pulled his knees closer to his chest, rising slightly. Edie tucked her hair behind her ears, wondering what she was supposed to be hearing.