Rune Destiny (Runebound Book 2)

by Sandell Wall

  Remus’s squad marched into the outskirts of the camp. Crude dwellings, shacks and lean-tos, littered the muddy earth. Goregash used Remus’s squad, but he did not trust them. If they did not report back to the fort before sundown, Volgoth warriors were sent looking for them. Punishment was severe. Better to not be found than to be late. The men grumbled as they tromped past makeshift stalls peddling hot meat and Volgoth ale. When they were in the midst of the tent city, Remus slowed their pace to a crawl.

  Many of the villagers viewed Remus and his men as heroes even though they would not openly undermine their chieftain’s opinion. As his squad sauntered between the huts and wagons, small pastries full of steaming meat found their way unbidden into the hands of his soldiers. Here and there a wineskin was pressed into a man’s arms. Remus smiled smugly to himself.

  We’ve killed more runebound than the Volgoth and Ethari combined.

  In the open area between the fort and the camp were the cages. Imperial prisoners who would not fight languished in the crude enclosures. Remus preferred to avoid the prisons, as some of his men still struggled with the idea of fighting for the enemy, and the insults hurled from the cages preyed on this weakness. But today, he had no choice but to pass nearby the squalid pens.

  “Traitors!” one bold captive shouted at Remus and his men.

  “Steady, lads,” Grotius said. “Leave him to his filth. Fighting thralls is better than rotting in there with him.”

  From his position at the back of the column, Remus paid careful attention to the body language of his soldiers, ready to mark any man who seemed overly interested in the cages or flinched from Grotius’s words. He saw nothing of note and felt gratified that the men were embracing their roles in his squad.

  As they neared the fort, Remus eyed the guards on the garrison walls. The hulking Volgoth warriors glared back. He would never get used to their size. Even the smallest barbarian was a mountain of muscle three times Remus’s weight. The biggest, like Goregash, had the strength and stature of a god.

  Remus passed under the gate and out of the guards’ sight. Once inside the courtyard at the center of the fort, he led his men to the dark door of the armory. They were allowed to wear their armor, but Goregash demanded that they relinquish their weapons after every sortie. Remus had appealed to Promost Lister and Pikon, arguing that if the stronghold was attacked, his men would not be able to fight back, but Promost Lister refused to push the issue with Goregash.

  He loitered with his men as they took turns shuffling to the door and passing their weapons to the armory attendant. Weary and hungry, Remus lost himself in a daydream of a hot meal. The sun had dipped below the western wall and in the growing twilight, torches were being lit.

  “Here comes your she-wolf,” Grotius muttered from beside Remus.

  Remus’s imaginary feast vanished. He looked across the courtyard. Walking like only a niece of the chieftain could, Tethana strode through the stronghold like she owned it. She was as tall as Remus and well-built, like all of the Volgoth. Her long brown hair was kept in check by a thick braid. When Remus had been a prisoner, Tethana had tended to the wounds of the men in his cage. She had noticed him then. Now that he was a warrior and a leader of men, she seemed intent on annoying him at every possible turn. His men had their own ideas about her attention and were not shy about voicing them.

  “You should just bed her and get it over with,” Grotius said.

  Remus bristled. “Shut your mouth.”

  Grotius chuckled.

  In the time since Remus had gained his freedom, Pikon had been teaching him the Volgoth tongue. His knowledge of the language was still rudimentary, but he could speak with both the Ethari and the barbarians and understand them even better. However, unlike the rest of her kind, Tethana actually made an effort to learn to communicate with the imperials. She was a quick study. Already, she could carry a conversation with Remus in his natural language.

  “Another successful day?” she said in the imperial tongue, stopping to stand before Remus.

  “Aye,” he said, feeling awkward in her presence. “You could say that.”

  “Do your men have need of mending?” she looked him up and down while letting the question hang. A heartbeat later she said, “Do you?”

  Behind him, Grotius snorted.

  Remus smiled weakly. “Not today. Perhaps next time.”

  “You might be a great warrior,” Tethana said with a wry smile. “But without a scar or two, no one will believe you.”

  Remus had no idea how to respond.

  Tethana held his gaze for a heartbeat and then continued on, bounding up the stone stair along the wall.

  Remus cursed himself inwardly. He could stand up to Goregash, stare down Pikon, and tear bloody ruin through a runebound charge, but faced with Tethana’s intense gaze he turned into a tongue-tied fool.

  “Mayhaps the young man could learn to wield tongue as adroitly as axe,” Ellion said with mock formality.

  “Stow it,” Remus growled.

  “That’s not the only thing he needs to learn to wield,” Grotius said. “Maybe a tumble in the hay with yonder lass would take some of the hot air out of him.”

  Remus bit back a retort. He could feel his face burning. This was why he went out of his way to avoid Tethana, especially when with his squad.

  “I have to go report in,” Remus snapped. “The two of you don’t need to come with me.”

  Grotius and Ellion nodded. “We’ll be in the barracks,” Ellion said.

  With a groan, Remus climbed the stone steps built into the inner wall. Tethana had scampered up the stairs, but Remus was exhausted. He took his time.

  Goregash had claimed the fort’s command quarters. The primary purpose of this imperial garrison had been to watch the border of the Wilds, so the commander’s office was built into the wall. Supported by a column of mortared stone, the room jutted out from the battlements to make space for a wooden observation deck that surrounded it on three sides. After occupying the abandoned stronghold, Goregash started to fancy himself a general. Like a commanding officer, Goregash demanded that everyone attend him in his new headquarters.

  As he approached, Remus noted through the windows that the small office was crowded. He could see Pikon and Promost Lister, their earless skulls and gray skin giving them a terrifying aspect in the shadows of the room. And he saw Tethana. His heart sank.

  Great. What the hells is she doing here?

  He stepped through the doorway. Inside, the light of at least five torches overwhelmed his senses. Remus squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. Sweat beaded on his brow as soon as he stepped into the room. Goregash reclined behind a massive desk, his mane of fiery red hair glowing in the torchlight. Pikon and Lister stood to one side, Tethana on the other.

  “The little kitten returns from the hunt,” Goregash said. “Tell me, little kitten. Did you catch a mouse?” The barbarian chieftain's voice rumbled, every word a boulder in an avalanche of sound. The torches guttered with the vibration of his speaking. Focused on a wicked-looking dagger he toyed with in his hands, he did not look at Remus as he spoke.

  Remus seethed, but he was used to Goregash taunting him. “As every day before this one, we were victorious. I estimate we killed fifty thralls.”

  Goregash laughed. “You claim victory? You don’t know the meaning of the word. You prey on the weak and the insane and come stand before me like you’re a warrior. You don’t need to pretend, little kitten. I will keep you safe.”

  “My squad is the only thing standing between your people and the runebound army. I don’t see your warriors volunteering to enter the Wilds.”

  Goregash was on his feet in an instant. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Pikon shake his head in a warning.

  “Speak of my warriors again and I’ll cut the tongue from your head,” Goregash said, looming over the desk. He pointed at Remus’s face with the dagger in his hand.

  Remus kept his mouth shut. Th
ere were few lines he was afraid to cross—this was one of them. On his feet, Goregash filled the cramped space. He glared his challenge at Remus.

  When the silence dragged, Pikon cleared his throat.

  Goregash’s eyes slid to the Ethari captain. “Ah, yes, little kitten,” he said. “The gray one wishes to speak with you.” The chieftain relaxed, slumping back down into his chair.

  “How near is the runebound army?” Pikon said.

  “Maybe ten miles,” Remus said. “Maybe eight. We have a week at most before they reach us.”

  Pikon nodded. “It’s as we feared, then. We’ve been discussing how to react to the threat, and we’ve reached an agreement. Remus, before dawn’s first light, you are to take your men and scout the nearest imperial town. We have no choice but to enter the empire.”

  “Delgrath,” Remus said. “The town is called Delgrath.”

  “Hideous name,” Goregash said.

  “It’s good that you know it,” Pikon said. “You have two days to travel there and back. We wish to know if we must take the town by force.”

  Goregash slammed the point of the dagger into the desk. “We must, by the gods! We’re here to conquer, not negotiate.”

  “We’re here to survive,” Pikon said. “Need I remind you of the three thousand Volgoth women and children camped outside this fort? Do you really want to be caught between the Legions of the empire and the runebound army?”

  “It is they who should be afraid,” Goregash said, but he did not protest further.

  In the short time Remus had known Goregash he had never seen the barbarian fight. Apart from the two doomed Legion soldiers they slaughtered in front of Fort Delgrath, he had not seen a single Volgoth warrior strike a blow against the enemy. They looked mighty and fierce, and they postured and threatened like prize fighters. The Ethari had great respect for the Volgoth’s strength, but Remus was fed up with Goregash’s reluctance to actually do anything. It was his squad keeping the Volgoth people safe, and now it was his squad being sent into hostile territory to scout the enemy.

  He looked at Pikon, who must have known what Remus was thinking, because the Ethari soldier again shook his head no. Remus had voiced his complaints to Pikon many times, only to be told that the Volgoth were too valuable an ally to abandon.

  “You will leave one of your men behind,” Pikon said, ignoring Goregash. “One of your lieutenants.”

  “Still don’t trust us?” Remus said.

  Pikon looked at him funny. “Why would we trust you?”

  “Oh, right. I forgot. Agreeing to fight for you and killing thousands of runebound means nothing.”

  There was an awkward pause as Pikon worked to decipher what Remus had said.

  “You agreed to fight for us to save your own life,” Pikon finally said. “You continue to do so to stay out of the cages. Do not speak to me of trust.”

  Remus had climbed the stair outside feeling triumphant, but this brief conversation had stripped him of any sense of achievement.

  “Anything else?” Remus said.

  “My niece will accompany you,” Goregash said.

  “What?” Remus said, incredulous.

  “Does the kitten need to clean his ears? You heard me. Dressed in armor, she will look like one of your men. She will tell me if your report is truthful. And if she comes to harm, no power of gods or men will save you from my wrath.”

  Remus looked at Tethana. She met his eyes and smirked. He groaned inwardly.

  This can’t be happening.

  Chapter 3

  THE SOLDIERS OF THE First Legion were relentless. Aventine pushed herself, summoning every bit of endurance her body had to give. No matter how hard she ran, the men pursuing her kept pace. They did not draw near, content to track her and wait. The sun had slipped behind the mountains an hour ago. Soon, darkness would force her to slow, but she was sick of running anyway.

  This isn’t working. I can’t run all night.

  Every time she crested a hill she was out of sight until the soldiers reached the hilltop behind her. At the next ridge, she hurtled down the far side, but instead of continuing on, she ducked behind a boulder that was big enough to hide her. Crouched in the twilight, she struggled to calm her breathing. Her panting echoed off the stone beside her. The noise seemed so loud that she was sure the soldiers could already hear her. She unsheathed her daggers and waited.

  From the top of the hill she heard voices.

  “Bleedin’ hells. Where’d she go?” one soldier said.

  “She didn’t sprout wings. She’s down there somewhere,” another answered.

  “Clever girl,” the first soldier said. “Thinks she can surprise us and stick us with her enchanted pokers.”

  “It’s getting dark. Light some torches and let’s get down this hill,” a commanding voice said. “Keep the formation wide in case she tries to ambush us. And steer clear of that boulder. That’s a perfect spot for her to hide.”

  Damn it all.

  Aventine was stuck. If she jumped up and ran, they would be right on top of her. She did not think she could outdistance them a second time. From where she knelt, she saw torchlight flicker on the hillside. There was no time. A heartbeat later, the line of enemy soldiers reached the bottom of the hill. None of them were within fifty feet of her hiding place. At least two bows were trained on the back of the boulder.

  “What have we here?” a soldier said when he spotted Aventine.

  She stood, powering her weapons as she did so.

  “Here now, there’s no need for those,” the soldier said, his voice raised to carry across the distance between them. “We ain’t gonna fight ya. So you can put those infernal blades away.”

  “I didn’t think I’d find cowards in the First,” Aventine said. “Why hunt prey you lack the spine to kill?”

  “The governor wants you alive, he does. Said something about unfinished business.”

  Aventine lunged forward. The soldier backpedaled. She whirled toward another soldier, who danced away. None of them would allow her to get close enough to lash out with her chain-linked daggers. Infuriated, she stopped trying, and stood surrounded—the center of a circle that was now her walking prison.

  “I appreciate the governor's concern, but I really don’t need a personal bodyguard,” Aventine said.

  The squad leader chuckled, but there was no humor in his voice. “You can’t run forever. We’ll follow you until you drop, and then we’ll take those damned daggers, tie you up like a hog, and deliver you to the governor to do with as he pleases.”

  Aventine’s heart sank. If they would not let her get close, she could do nothing to deter their pursuit. And she would have to stop, sooner or later, even if that meant passing out on her feet. She saw no way out. When the First Legion finished with the rebels in the mountains, they would come with their nullifying runestones and disarm her.

  “You could just surrender,” the squad leader said. “You should save your energy for the governor. I promise you, he has more than a nice nap in a dungeon cell in mind for you.”

  She turned to face the squad leader, angry defiance on the tip of her tongue. But instead of speaking, she watched him die. A black shaft shot out of the darkness, piercing the soldier’s breastplate with a sickening crunch. The giant arrow lifted the squad leader off the ground and slammed him down several feet away. The other soldiers’ reaction was immediate. They did not speak—hesitation meant death. They scattered.

  As soon as the squad was distracted, Aventine charged. Swift and silent, she sprinted toward the nearest enemy. Intent on finding the threat in the shadows, his was back was turned. Too late the soldier remembered the danger behind him. Aventine’s burning daggers plunged into his lower back before he could face her. He dropped, and Aventine ran into the night.

  Behind her the soldiers were shouting, trying to regain their coordination. Over her head, she heard more dark arrows ripping through the air. Every missile was followed by a scream and a clatter. Noth
ing could stand before Holmgrim’s siege bow at this close range. She tried to trace the arrows to their source as she moved through the darkness.

  Several hundred feet ahead of her, on a nearby hilltop, Aventine spotted the subtle glow of runes. Almost lost in the night, the blue crescent of Holmgrim’s siege bow beckoned to her like a beacon of salvation. Fixated on his position, she scrambled over ridge and hill. The runes winked out when she neared.

  Aventine stumbled the last few steps up the incline. Crouched at the top were Holmgrim and Saffrin. Relief flooded through her.

  “You’re alive,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

  “Aye, but just barely,” Holmgrim said, keeping his voice low as well. “We almost didn’t make it off the mountain. We held on as long as possible, trying to help the rest…” his voice trailed off and he did not continue.

  “I don’t think anyone else survived,” Saffrin said. “They were determined to avoid capture, if it came to this. The last of the rebels barricaded themselves in the cave and collapsed it when the soldiers of the First were too far in to escape.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aventine said.

  “Me too,” Saffrin said. “They gave their lives for me.”

  Saffrin’s face was invisible in the darkness, but there was no hiding the pain in the woman’s voice.

  “We have to move,” Holmgrim said. “Once they get rid of those torches, this bow will be useless in the night. If we don’t escape now, we won’t get another chance.”

  Holmgrim crept away down the far side of the hill. For his size, he could be surprisingly stealthy. Saffrin followed, and Aventine brought up the rear. During the past month, Holmgrim and Saffrin had become inseparable. Saffrin was a rune caster, able to power the mysterious runestones that littered the empire. With her innate ability, she could activate the runes inscribed on weapons and armor, provided she had the matching runestone in hand. These rune artifacts granted the wielder astonishing power.

  The obvious consequence had been to pair Saffrin with Holmgrim. He could pull the siege bow without needing the enhanced strength granted by rune armor, but without a rune caster, the weapon was unwieldy and almost useless. Saffrin could activate the runes carved along the length of the bow, turning it into a devastating weapon capable of launching an arrow over half a mile. Arrows from a siege bow could shatter stone and punch through the thickest fortified doors. Since then, wherever Holmgrim was, Saffrin was sure to be nearby.