An Empire in Runes (The Runes of Issalia Book 3)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “To your marks, men! Ready to furl the sails!”

  She winced at his loud voice in her ear. A smirk pulled up at the corner of her lips when she thought of Sinclair. He was the same as always. Regardless of how the winds blew or how the world changed, Sinclair remained a rock, refusing to bend.

  As the ship drew close to the pier, Sinclair began to shout additional orders. Tenzi glanced up, briefly watching the sailors take down the sails. The five men they had hired in Wayport knew their way around a ship. After only two weeks with the crew, she wasn’t yet positive that they could be trusted, but they had little time, and thus, had little choice.

  With sails down, the ship slowed and drifted toward the mooring. Shortly before it collided with the pier, Tenzi spun the wheel and the ship turned. As the boat slowed further, the momentum caused the ship to drift toward the pier while running parallel to it. The crew tossed loops at the thick posts rising above the docks. The ropes caught and pulled taut. The tension on the lines held strong, the ropes creaking under the strain. With an audible groan, the ship settled, and the ropes drooped as if sighing in relief.

  The small crew of sailors scurried about the ship, preparing for their stay at Nor Torin. Sinclair descended from the quarterdeck to the main deck, instructing the men as he had done at their previous stops. At Sunbleth, Port Choya, and Kantar, the routine had been the same. Sinclair and Tenzi would find a buyer who would come for the goods purchased at the previous port. The next day, the ship would be loaded with new goods that Sinclair purchased and they would then set sail for the next port. She prayed to Issal for a better reception at Nor Torin than they had received at their other stops.

  Tenzi descended to the main deck, crossing it to the stairs leading down to the cabins. She darted below deck and navigated the narrow hallway to the door at the end. Her room might be the smallest on the ship, but at least she had a cabin to herself.

  Tenzi removed her wet boots, coat, pants, and tunic as she stripped down to her smallclothes. She poured some water into a bowl and used it to wash off the grime of travel. She then untied her hair and ran a comb through her shoulder-length blonde locks. After changing into dry clothes, she put her boots back on and threw a long cloak over her shoulders for warmth. Finally, she reached up to her bunk and lifted the mattress before sliding her belt dagger beneath it.

  Stepping out of her room, Tenzi locked the door before heading topside. When she emerged from the hold, Tenzi found herself squinting in the daylight despite the dreary gray of winter clouds blanketing the sky. The wind hit her, a gust finding its way down her shirt and giving her a chill. She pulled her cloak tightly about herself and turned toward the docks to find Sinclair waiting near the rail.

  Sinclair had shed his bright red leather vest in favor of his long burgundy dress coat, but the tall man still wore his famous white-plumed, black brimmed hat. He smoothed the mustache of his goatee and nodded toward Tenzi.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She gave a nod and followed as he crossed the planks running to the pier. They passed a number of people on the way to the dock offices, but the number was far fewer than they would see during a summer visit. Reaching the dock offices, Sinclair knocked and waited for the clerk to answer.

  The door opened and a grumpy wrinkled face appeared. “What do ya want?”

  Sinclair grinned. “My, Olaf. Did you climb out of the wrong side of the bed today?”

  The old man snorted. “Sorry, Sinclair. It’s just this bloody winter weather. It makes an old body ache, ya know.”

  Sinclair nodded, showing understanding. “Yes. Though I’m not quite as advanced as you, kind sir, my body doesn’t treat me with nearly the same respect as when I was a youth.”

  “True. So true,” Olaf agreed. “Now, what brings you to Nor Torin in the winter?”

  Turning toward the pier, Sinclair pointed. “I’ve got a new ship. New Spirit, she’s called. Aptly named too. Not the size of Star Dancer but a good vessel none-the-less.” Sinclair turned toward Olaf. “I’ve a load of early spring produce, fresh from the fields outside of Kantar. I’m looking for a trader to take them.”

  Olaf squinted, his forehead wrinkling to distort the rune of Mercator that marked him. “Unloading produce this time of year is easy. Not much grows up here in winter, so you’re in luck. How much do you have?”

  “Fifty bushels of fruits and vegetables,” Sinclair said with a smile.

  Olaf’s brow raised. “That must be all you can carry on that ship.”

  “True.” Sinclair nodded. “I also need them all unloaded today.”

  “Today? All of it?” Olaf asked.

  “Yes,” Sinclair insisted. “Find me a good price, and make it happen today. If you do, I’ll double your commission.”

  Olaf stared at Sinclair, his eyes narrowing as he chewed his lip. Tenzi wasn’t worried, knowing that Olaf would jump at this chance. Easy cargo for double commission was a dock broker’s dream.

  The old man nodded, reaching out to shake Sinclair’s hand. “It’s a deal.”

  Sinclair gave him a grin. “Okay. Once you have a buyer, go to my ship and tell Marlin that Sinclair says more deals pay for more meals. He’ll know what to do. You got it?”

  Olaf grinned. “Got it.”

  Sinclair bowed to the old man, turned, and led Tenzi up the ramp to the road leading into the city. When they passed through the outer gate, the traffic on the streets increased dramatically. They passed numerous shops and inns, and navigated their way uphill toward the heart of the city. It wasn’t long before their destination came into view.

  A two-story tall wall surrounded the squat form of the Nor Torin Citadel, which occupied a sizeable portion of the city center. Passing a fountain, Sinclair made straight for the Citadel gate. As they approached, a guard stationed outside the gate put his hand up.

  “Hold,” the man said. “Please state your business within the Citadel.”

  Sinclair gave his best disarming grin, bowing slightly. “Hello, good sir. We are here to file an appeal with Prelate Yaris. Is he holding court today?”

  The guard nodded. “You’re in luck. He is holding court today, and I believe there’s room on the docket for additions. But first, you must remove your weapons and leave them with me.”

  Sinclair nodded, removed his sword belt, and handed it to the guard.

  The guard turned toward Tenzi. “What about you? Are you armed?”

  Tenzi opened her cloak wide. “Does it look like I’m armed? Look at me. I’m barely five feet tall. Do you think I want to get into a fight with anyone?”

  She raised an eyebrow in question, hoping the man wouldn’t decide to search her. Although she had left the dagger from her belt on the ship, she had five other knives hidden from view.

  The man grunted and stepped aside. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  Sinclair gave the man a nod as he led Tenzi into the complex. Tenzi stepped quickly, hurrying to keep up the with tall man’s long strides. They crossed the courtyard, climbed the stairs, and entered the dark stone building.

  They found a scattering of people milling about in the receiving hall. Clerks in black cloaks trailed magistrates in red-trimmed black robes, disappearing into rooms that lined the sides of the large room. Guards in metal-plated leather armor stood beside each door, watching citizens passing through the doorways behind the magistrates and clerks. Other citizens stood in a line before open doors at the far end of the space. Tenzi and Sinclair made their way to the back of the line and waited for their turn to enter.

  The line inched forward until Sinclair reached the front and addressed the clerk waiting with a ledger in his arm.

  “Good day, sir.” Sinclair said w
ith a small bow.

  The clerk glance up at him, pushing his round spectacles in place. “Name and business.”

  Sinclair smiled. “Why, I am Captain Sinclair, of course. While I’m best known as the captain of the Star Dancer, recent events have made it necessary for me to take up a new vessel, named New Spirit.”

  The clerk raised a brow and glanced toward the female guard who stood at the other side of the door. The guard ignored the clerk, her eyes narrowing at Tenzi. Thinking about the knives hidden up her sleeves, in her boots, and her lower back, Tenzi prayed that the guard would not decide to search her. Oblivious to the exchange, the clerk turned toward Sinclair and sighed.

  “Whatever. Why are you here? What business do you have with Prelate Yaris?”

  Sinclair stepped closer and whispered. “It is a matter of grave importance. I bring vital news related to the safety of the Empire.”

  Sinclair stood upright and nodded. The clerk stared up at Sinclair, rolled his eyes, and released another sigh. “Fine. You’re tenth on the list, right after tradesman Gern’s complaint about his tax rate.”

  Tenzi snorted. After the treatment they had received in their other stops, she wasn’t surprised. Still, it disgusted her that another official refused to take Sinclair’s message seriously. They were trying to save people’s lives, but the Ministry didn’t seem to care. She just hoped that Prelate Yaris would be more open-minded than the others.

  Sinclair led her through the door and into the Prelate’s court. They walked down the center aisle until they located an open bench a few rows from the front.

  As she took a seat, Tenzi scanned the room. She counted twenty-five people seated in the benches. Guards stood stationed near each of the three doors, one on each side of the room and one at the back. Light poured through high windows, illuminating the large room. Tenzi guessed that the space could seat two hundred and hold twice that if people were willing to stand.

  A clerk stepped through a door at the side of the room. “All rise for Prelate Yaris.”

  Everyone stood, watching the red-cloaked man enter the room. The Prelate was middle-aged with a medium build and a balding pate. He crossed the room and took a seat at the table positioned upon the dais at the front. After quick examination of the top paper on his table, he announced the first name on the list.

  * * *

  Despite extreme boredom and a continuous struggle to not fall asleep, Tenzi kept count of the cases brought before Yaris. Unless she miscounted, Sinclair would be the first name called when the prelate returned. After being subjugated to hours of complaining plaintiffs, countered by the droning of the self-righteous Prelate, they now had to endure a thirty-minute wait while Yaris rested in his chambers. Tenzi couldn’t understand why the man had to rest since he sat for the whole morning. She wondered how much resting he would need after manning the wheel of a ship upon stormy waters.

  A clerk appeared from a side door, announcing Yaris as the Prelate emerged to return to the dais. After reclaiming his seat, Yaris read the sheet of paper in front of him and announced the next name.

  “Captain Sinclair. I understand that you have news to present.”

  Sinclair glanced toward Tenzi and stood. She followed him to the front of the room, the two of them stopping two strides from the dais.

  Sinclair gave his best smile and addressed the man. “Prelate Yaris,” he bowed a deep bow. “Thank you for adjusting your schedule to make time for my critically important and time-sensitive message.”

  Yaris’ face clouded at the note of sarcasm. Tenzi groaned inwardly. This was a bad way to begin.

  “My first mate,” Sinclair gestured toward Tenzi, “and I have traveled far with most urgent news. We have recently come from Sol Polis, or more accurately, from the remains of the city.”

  The prelate’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about, man?”

  “Sir, I am afraid that the Empire’s fair capital city is no longer,” Sinclair replied. “The city was attacked and destroyed a few weeks ago. It now lies in ruins, along with the ghosts of those who were there at the time of the attack.”

  Yaris leaned forward with his palms and forearms on the table. “You’re telling me that Sol Polis was destroyed in an attack? An attack by who?”

  “I believe you mean an attack by whom.” Sinclair said.

  Yaris’ face turned a deeper shade of red. “Fine. Now answer the question.”

  Sinclair glanced toward Tenzi again before responding. “It appears that The Banished Horde is back, sir. They took the city by surprise in the dark of night. We were able to make a daring escape on my ship, which was later lost at sea in a freak storm. When we returned to Sol Polis a few days later, only demolished buildings and corpses remained. Very few of those corpses were non-human.”

  The courtroom fell silent as Yaris stared hard at Sinclair. Suddenly, Yaris burst out laughing and leaned back in his chair. Sinclair’s eyes met Tenzi’s again, sharing the same thought: the trip to Nor Torin had led to another dead end.

  Recovering from his laughter, Yaris wiped his eyes and addressed Sinclair. “You had me for a moment, Captain. Now, while I appreciate a good story as much as any other man, you are wasting my time.”

  Sinclair tried again. “Sir. What I am telling you is true. In fact, this dark army is now ravaging the eastern provinces. They will soon cross the Tantarri Plains in route to attack the western provinces. As I speak, others are working to gather an army to meet The Horde on the plains where they plan to stop this evil force’s advance. I urge you to consider sending every warrior you can spare to join this fight.”

  As Sinclair spoke, the Prelate’s face darkened. By the time Sinclair finished, Yaris appeared a thundercloud about to rain fury.

  “You cannot come into my courtroom spouting fanciful tales and tell me what to do!” he shouted as he jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over. “You will leave, now, Captain. If I see you in this courtroom again, you will find a new home in a dark cell.” Yaris pointed toward the nearest guard. “Escort this man out of the Citadel!”

  A clerk scrambled across the room, righting the fallen chair before Yaris reclaimed his seat. Crossing the room from his post near the door, the guard grabbed Sinclair’s arm and led him toward the exit. Tenzi followed, thinking of Parker. She prayed that he would survive the impending war, which would only be possible if The Horde was defeated. Their plan to gather additional forces from the western provinces had failed miserably.

  The guard pushed Sinclair through the door and out into the hall. Tenzi glanced up at the tall man waiting for them to clear the doorway, recognizing him immediately.

  “Cam?” she said.

  When the man looked at her, she realized that she was mistaken. This man looked much like Cameron but was older and his hair was a bit darker.

  “You know Cameron? Cameron DeSanus?’ the man asked.

  Tenzi’s eyes flashed toward Sinclair before she responded. “Yes. I just saw him two weeks ago when we dropped him and his friends off at Hipoint.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Ignoring her aching backside, Ashland Pym put one foot into a stirrup and hoisted herself back into the saddle. Their steeds shifted in anticipation, appearing eager to run after drinking their fill from the river and grazing on the long grasses that lined the banks.

  Ashland turned her chestnut mare toward the others, finding Cam atop his roan and staring at Puri, her eyes locked onto his in a silent exchange. Ashland could tell that Cam cared for Puri, but with the woman’s guarded personality, it was difficult to tell how she felt.

  “We will meet on the plains in a few weeks.” Puri said.

  Cam nodded. “Be well, Puri. I’ll see you soo
n.”

  Puri nodded. “Stay alive, Cameron. I will be quite cross if you let somebody kill you.”

  Ashland smiled. It was an odd goodbye with strangely veiled emotion.

  Puri’s horse turned, leaving the trail as it trotted north. Ashland and Benny remained quiet as Cam watched Puri disappear over the small hillside. He then turned toward them and nodded before kicking his horse into a trot. It was mid-afternoon, and they needed to put more miles behind them before stopping for the night.

  * * *

  Ashland smiled and nodded in thanks as Cam held the heavy pine bough aside. Ducking, she stepped through and pulled the wet hood of her wool cloak down. She was thankful to find it dry beneath the umbrella of the massive pine. Wincing as she sat, she arched her back to allow her pack to slide off her shoulder and onto the ground. Benny came next, dropping onto the pine needle-covered ground as Cam wiggled through and let the heavy branch snap into place.

  Benny pulled his hood back, sighing. “I hate the rain.”

  Cam grunted. “It’s just mist, Benny.”

  “Whatever,” Benny replied. “If it makes me wet and cold, I hate it.”

  Ashland felt the same way, but she tried to put a positive spin on it. “At least it’s dry under this pine. Hopefully it’ll stop by morning, and we’ll have a nice travel day tomorrow.”

  Benny put a hand on the small of his back and stretched. “I’m not so sure. Once the spring rains start, they tend to be persistent. Even if it’s dry in the morning, it may not remain that way. Plus, who knows what the weather is like on the other side of the pass.”

  Taking her trail rations out, Ashland nodded. The weather on one side of a mountain range was often quite different from the other side.

  I miss you, Ashland heard in her head.

  She smiled, sending her thoughts back. I miss you, too, Brock.

  She spoke out loud. “Be quiet for a moment. Brock is sending me something.”