Runic Awakening (The Runic Series Book 1)

by Unknown

  Kalibar rummaged through the pack, then nodded to himself, apparently satisfied. He closed the trunk, then opened the side door of the carriage, motioning for Kyle to hop in. Kyle stepped up into the carriage, marveling at the interior. It was tastefully ornate, with polished wood and soft, comfortable leather cushions. He sat down, looking around for a seat belt...and finding none. Moments later, Kalibar opened the door on the other side, sitting down beside Kyle. He laid the long metal staff down on the carriage floor beneath the seats, then leaned back. Darius closed Kalibar's door, walking to the second carriage.

  "Where's he going?" Kyle asked.

  "He's signaling the other carriage to leave first," Kalibar explained.

  "Wait," Kyle said, feeling suddenly uneasy. "The other carriage is the bait?"

  “Don't worry,” Kalibar reassured. “Their carriage is equipped with advanced runic defenses. My guards will be as safe as they can be.”

  Kyle looked out of the side window, catching a glimpse of Darius walking back to the front of their carriage. The bodyguard hopped up into the small driver's seat in the front, grabbing the two pairs of reins there. He snapped them sharply, prompting the two horses to trot forward, pulling the carriage along with them.

  Kyle sat back in his seat, ignoring the slight burning in his spine. He noticed a large glass panel in the front of the carriage; it looked out to the driver's seat, and he could see Darius's back through it.

  "We'll follow a few hundred feet behind the other carriage," Kalibar stated. "All of the attacks on the other carriages occurred near the town limits, twenty minutes from here." He eyed Kyle then. “How are you feeling?”

  “Nervous,” Kyle admitted. Kalibar smiled.

  "Don't be," he reassured. "I have a great deal of experience with these kind of things.”

  "What kind of things?"

  "Combat," the old man clarified. "I spent much of my life in the military as a Battle-Weaver," he added. "And Erasmus – the man we're going to show your ring to – worked with me as a military Runic."

  "Wait, what's a Weaver?" Kyle asked.

  “Ah, I forgot,” Kalibar replied. "Of course you wouldn't know. A Weaver is someone who uses magic to make an immediate change in the world around them," he said. “Like lifting a stream from its bed.”

  “So you're a Weaver?”

  “Yes,” Kalibar replied. “A Runic, on the other hand, creates objects that have magical properties,” he continued. “Like your earring...and your ring.”

  “And the other carriage,” Kyle added. Kalibar nodded.

  “We call magical objects 'runics,'” he explained.

  "Wait," Kyle stated, "...if you can control gravity, couldn't we just fly to the Secula Magna?"

  "I already thought of that," Kalibar answered. "For one, the enemy will undoubtedly anticipate that I might choose to fly. It could prove enormously dangerous to fly you and Darius, much less our cargo, while at the same time fighting an airborne battle with multiple enemies. The carriage is easier to defend.”

  "Couldn't you just fly there alone with the ring, and then fly back?" Kyle pressed. He had no desire to part with his ring, but he had even less desire to meet up with Kalibar's enemies. Kalibar chuckled.

  "I could," he admitted. "But it would still be extremely dangerous…and I have other plans.”

  Kalibar fell silent then, staring out of the window on his side. Kyle suppressed the urge to ask more questions, staring out of his own window. They'd already left the grounds of Kalibar's mansion, reaching a wide dirt road. They passed the occasional house on either side, but mostly there was just farmland...endless fields of various crops. Beyond the crops, fields of tall golden grass grew. It looked familiar.

  "Is this the road I was found on?" Kyle asked.

  “Yes, this is the road," Kalibar confirmed. "You were found lying on your belly on the dirt a few miles from here. You had no clothes on but your underwear.” Kalibar paused. “I nearly forgot...they found the sap of a balm-tree in your wound.”

  “A balm-tree?”

  “A tree with sap that, when placed in a wound, contracts slowly, bringing the wound edges together tightly,” Kalibar explained. “The body slowly absorbs the sap, leaving only the thinnest film behind to hold the wound together until it heals.”

  Kyle nodded; it was a lot like the stitches that his Dad used to sew people up in the emergency room. Only better, because there weren't any needles involved.

  “Now that I think of it, it's strange that the sap was found in your wound," Kalibar continued, tapping his chin with one finger. "You obviously couldn't have put it there...so who did?"

  "I don't know," Kyle admitted. Kalibar frowned for a long moment, then sighed.

  “So many unknowns,” he murmured.

  There was a sudden flash of blood-red light, followed by an ear-splitting boom that rattled the carriage windows. Kyle flinched, covering his ears with his hands, his heart hammering in his chest.

  What the...!

  He saw Darius yank back on the reins, then leap down from his seat, sprinting forward into the darkness. Kalibar swore, reaching down under his seat and grabbing his staff. He reached into his breast pocket, retrieving a pair of sunglasses and putting them on.

  “Stay inside!” Kalibar commanded. He threw open his door, leaping out into the night. The door slammed shut on its own, leaving Kyle alone.

  A shrill scream pierced the night air.

  Kyle slid over to the Kalibar's side of the carriage, staring out of the side window. Utter darkness greeted him. He turned to look out of the sliding front window, but only saw the back of the horses' heads. One of the horses reared up, kicking its forelegs in the air. Then it bolted forward, throwing Kyle back into his seat. He cried out, pain lancing through his spine. The carriage veered to the left abruptly, throwing Kyle against the rightmost door.

  A flash of eye-searing light exploded all around him.

  Kyle cried out again, throwing his arms in front of his face and squeezing his eyes shut. He heard one of the horses scream, and the carriage began bouncing erratically. It veered sharply to the right, throwing Kyle onto his side on the seat. The carriage began to tip over, making him slide across the seat. His head struck the left carriage door sharply, stars exploding across his vision.

  Boom!

  The carriage tipped all the way over onto its side, flipping Kyle onto his back on top of the door. He screamed, curling into a ball, his spine on fire.

  The carriage lurched forward once, then again, scraping loudly on the ground below. Kyle braced himself on the carriage door below, gritting his teeth against the pain. Something warm and wet dripped down his back.

  A short, high-pitched scream echoed through the air, followed by muffled shouting.

  Kyle twisted around onto his belly, getting his hands and knees underneath him. He stood up, leaning against the ceiling; the carriage had tipped over onto its left side, and the rightmost carriage door was up above him. He reached up for the door handle, his fingers stopping mere inches from it. He got up onto his tip-toes, stretching himself as far as he could. His fingertips brushed up against the cool brass of the door handle. He hopped and grabbed it, pulling it downward as he fell, but the door didn't open.

  Kyle cursed; of course the door wouldn't open inward...it could only open outward.

  He stared up at the door, his mind racing. Then he had an idea; he braced one foot on the front of the carriage, and wedged the other between the creases in the leather seat backing, pushing up with his legs. This gave him the extra height to easily reach the door handle. He grabbed it, pulling downward, then pushing up on the carriage door. The door lifted upward partway, cool air rushing inward. Kyle grabbed the front edge of the doorway, kicking his legs to push himself upward, wedging his body in the doorway. He ignored the pain as the door scraped against his back, lifting himself up onto the side of the carriage.

  Suddenly Kyle felt his head jerk involuntarily to the right, then heard a loud thump an
inch from his left ear. He turned, and saw a metal bolt sticking out of the open carriage door right where his head had been.

  Kyle cried out, sliding backward into the carriage and landing feet-first onto the carriage door below. The door above slammed shut...then opened again.

  A dark, red-hooded head peered below at Kyle, the face beyond lost in shadow.

  The figure froze for a moment, then pulled the hood back over his head, revealing a long black beard and dark eyes. The stranger stared at Kyle for a moment, then turned around, swinging his legs down into the carriage. Kyle backed up, wedging himself in the corner as the stranger fell down toward him, landing beside him on the carriage door. The man grabbed the front of Kyle's shirt, shoving him hard against the carriage ceiling behind. Kyle's breath caught in his throat, his back exploding in pain.

  The stranger held Kyle with one hand, reaching for something at his waist with the other. A knife.

  Kyle screamed, dropping to his knees and trying to yank free of the man's grasp. The stranger lifted him back up easily, slamming him against the wall again. He raised the knife up into the air, then plunged its cruel tip downward, right at Kyle's chest!

  Kyle didn't even have time to scream.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as the blade slammed into his chest, trying futilely to twist away at the last minute. He felt a horrible pain in his chest, felt the stranger let go of him. There was a loud grunt, and then there was silence.

  Kyle took deep, gulping breaths, sinking to his knees and clutching at his chest. Against his better judgment, he looked down, expecting to see blood spurting out from between his fingers. But there was nothing...not even a wound.

  What the...

  He heard a thump, and looked up, spotting a pair of black boots vanishing through the open carriage door above. There was a muffled scream, followed by a sickening crack. Kyle heard another loud thump...and then a man's head appeared through the open door above, blue eyes staring down at Kyle.

  "Darius!" Kyle cried.

  "Stay here," the bodyguard ordered gruffly, grabbing the carriage door and pulling it closed. A warm flood of relief coursed through Kyle, and he looked down, seeing another warm flood spreading across the front of his pants. He crouched low, covering his groin with his hands, his cheeks hot with shame. The carriage jolted, then lifted upward off of the ground, rolling back onto its wheels. Kyle fell onto the soft leather seats, then pulled himself back into a seated position. The left carriage door opened, a familiar face peering through.

  "Are you all right?" Kalibar asked, climbing quickly into the carriage and patting Kyle's shoulders and arms. Kyle curled his legs up, terrified that Kalibar would discover his urine-soaked pants. Darius appeared behind Kalibar, peering over the old man's shoulder.

  "He's fine," Darius answered matter-of-factly. Then he paused. “Can't say the same for his pants.” Kyle and Kalibar both looked down at Kyle's pants, noting the large wet spot in the middle. Kyle's face flushed a deep crimson, and he clutched his knees to his chest, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die.

  "We need to deal with the survivors," Kalibar stated, mercifully ignoring Darius's comment. He pulled his sunglasses and placed them in his breast pocket, then exited the carriage, motioning for Darius to follow him.

  "He should see this," the bodyguard said. Kalibar frowned, glancing at Kyle, then back at Darius. He paused for a moment, then nodded.

  “Very well,” he replied. He gestured for Kyle to exit the carriage. Kyle did as he was told, following Darius and Kalibar to the side of the road. He glanced down the road, spotting debris strewn across it some fifty feet ahead...and something else.

  Bodies.

  “Stop,” Kalibar ordered, putting a hand out in front of Kyle. Kyle froze in place, turning forward. There, just beyond the side of the road, were three dark shapes silhouetted by the faint glimmer of the stars. As his eyes adjusted, Kyle saw that they were men dressed in red uniforms – simple pants and shirts, with a hood to cover their heads. Each had a black sash around their waists, with a green diamond-shaped symbol woven in the center. The air shimmered around them like hot air over a parking lot. In front of the three men, Kyle saw Kalibar's staff standing upright, floating a few inches above the ground. Tiny symbols glowed a faint blue all the way up the length of the staff, and a large blue crystal glowed faintly at the staff's tip.

  Kalibar stopped before the three men, his arms folded in front of him.

  “Good evening gentlemen,” he stated, his tone ice-cold. “You know who I am.” It was a statement of fact, not a question. “Pay attention,” he advised. “The next few minutes will be the most important in your life.”

  The first man drew his head back, then spat at Kalibar. The saliva flew toward Kalibar, then turned about in midair, flying right back into the man's face. Kalibar didn't even blink.

  “You're a dead man,” the second man – the one in the middle – growled.

  “We're all dead men,” Kalibar replied coolly. “If you tell me who ordered this attack, you will die well.”

  “Go to hell,” the man spat. Then he gasped as a faint blue sphere surrounded him, lifting him up into the air a foot or two. His red robes suddenly crushed inward, pressing tightly against his body. His eyes widened, and he gasped again, his chest heaving with great difficulty as he struggled to breath.

  “Who?” Kalibar pressed, staring impassively at the levitating man. The first man yelled out, and a burst of light flew from his body toward Kalibar. Kalibar's staff shimmered, the symbols carved into its surface flashing blue. The light curved sharply in midair, arcing back toward its creator. The man screamed as it slammed into him, hurtling him backward through the air. His chest burst into flames, and he landed with a thump on the grassy field beyond. The flames licked at his clothes, burning higher and brighter, and he screamed again, flailing his arms and legs wildly. Within moments, his entire body was engulfed.

  Kyle turned away, his stomach lurching. He felt Darius's hand on his shoulder. The bodyguard forced him to face the burning man, who was lying on the ground, no longer moving.

  Kalibar turned his gaze back to the second man, the one levitating in the air before him. The man was sweating profusely, his hair matted to his skull. His breath came in short gasps.

  “Who?” Kalibar repeated.

  “Our master...will...kill...you,” the man promised. Darius, standing behind Kalibar, knelt down to pick something up off of the ground. He lifted it up, presenting it to the levitating man. Kyle's stomach lurched; it was a man's head, severed at the neck. There was a deep hole in the center of the dead man's forehead.

  “Only if we trip over him,” Darius retorted. Then he casually tossed the head over his shoulder. The two remaining men turned very pale.

  “Impossible!” the man standing on the ground exclaimed in disbelief, the blood draining from his face. “How?” Darius smirked.

  “Easily,” he answered.

  “Talk, or join your leader,” Kalibar commanded.

  “It was Orik!” the third man blurted out. “He...”

  “Shut up!” the levitating man hissed. “You traitor!”

  “He killed the master!” the third man retorted.

  Kalibar stared at the two men for a long moment, his face expressionless.

  “Orik ordered my assassination?” Kalibar asked, his eyes on the third man.

  “He did,” the man confirmed.

  “You're a goddamn fool,” the second man spat.

  “Who cares if they know?” the third man retorted. “Xanos will destroy them!”

  Kalibar turned away from the prisoners, rubbing his goatee with one hand. He glanced at Darius.

  “If Orik is behind this, I'll need their testimony,” he muttered. “We can't just kill them...and they're too dangerous to leave as is.” He turned back to face the captives. “I have every right to take your lives,” he stated, staring coldly at the two men. “Consider it a gift that I will only take your eyes.”

&nb
sp; Suddenly the shimmering field imprisoning the second man vanished, and he leapt at his companion, a ball of light appearing in his hand.

  “For Xanos!” he cried, slamming the ball of light into the other man. The light exploded, sending a shockwave outward, a burst of hot air slamming into Kyle. He stumbled backward, landing on his butt on the dirt on the side of the road, momentarily blinded.

  “Kalibar!” he shouted.

  He felt hands under his armpits, felt himself being hauled up onto his feet. He blinked rapidly, staring at the spot where the two men had been standing. There was nothing left of them...other than a puddle of blood and hunks of burning flesh splattered across the dirt.

  “Damn!” Kalibar swore, staring at the remains of the two men. His jawline rippled, his fists clenching, then unclenching. At length, he turned away, walking back toward the carriage. "Let's go," he muttered. Kyle stole a glance at Darius, but the bodyguard said nothing, following his employer. Kyle trailed close behind, glancing back at the blood on the side of the road, feeling nauseous.

  Darius stopped before the horses, inspecting them; both were spooked, but seemed otherwise unharmed. The bodyguard stepped up into the driver's chair, grabbing the reins. Kyle and Kalibar got back into the carriage, and within moments Darius was steering them back onto the road, avoiding the flaming debris scattered across it.

  “What's all that?” Kyle asked.

  “The other carriage,” Kalibar answered. Kyle stared at the wreckage, feeling a sudden pang of dread.

  “Wait, where are your guards?” he pressed. Kalibar took a deep breath in, then let it out.

  “They should have been safe,” Kalibar muttered, staring down at his own lap. “The wards on my carriage should have protected them.”

  Kyle said nothing, turning away and looking out of his window. The last of the debris passed by, and he turned away, feeling strangely numb. He closed his eyes, remembering the guard he'd seen driving the carriage. It was impossible to believe that the man, who he'd just seen alive earlier that evening, was now dead. He opened his eyes, glancing at Kalibar. The man was busy staring at his staff, clenching it so hard that his knuckles turned white.