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

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  After a moment, his voice returned. How far did you make it today?

  Closing her eyes, she responded. We are just east of the pass that leads to Sarville. It’s misting down here and is surely snowing up in the pass. We decided to wait for daylight before we attempt it.

  That sounds like a good idea, Brock replied. It might be slow going, but you should make it to Sarville by tomorrow evening. If the weather cooperates, you might reach Fallbrandt the next day.

  Ashland nodded. That’s what I think, too. However, my rear and thighs are aching already. Two more days of riding doesn’t sound fun at all.

  Brock sent a laugh through their connection. After a small pause, he spoke again. I’ve found two more Chaos runes in the journal. I plan to test them soon, and I’ll let you know how it goes. He paused briefly. One of them matches the rune on Cam’s sword.

  Really? What does it represent? She replied.

  It’s the rune for Courage. Brock’s response had a positive vibe. I believe that when the fluted blade makes the whirling sound, the Courage rune infused in it affects anyone who can hear it, cancelling the fear coming from the banshee’s wails.

  That’s amazing. Ashland noted. It could be helpful for what’s coming. She didn’t have to explain what she meant.

  His voice echoed in her head. I found out something else. Something about Infusion.

  Ashland sat upright, using their connection to reflect her sense of interest in the subject.

  Brock explained, The author of the journals had some dogs, which he charged with a Chaos rune and then used Order to Infuse the Chaos into them permanently. Why he was experimenting on dogs is still unclear.

  Ashland was amazed at this revelation, wondering how Infusion might affect a living thing. She sent her thoughts to Brock.

  That sounds intriguing. Keep me updated on what else you find.

  I will, he sent. Goodnight.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Good.” Brock said, smiling. “You did it, Harold.”

  Brock patted the old man on the shoulder, receiving an eager nod in return. Harold’s bushy gray eyebrows fluttered in the afternoon breeze. The old man couldn’t move very well, and it was difficult to determine if it was a result of his age or if it was from the harsh treatment his body had endured. The man had somehow survived more than thirty years of imprisonment, which was not trivial based on the stories the others had told. Despite the hardship and obvious pain he felt on a daily basis, Harold was not one to complain.

  The rock Harold had charged with the Light rune glowed a dim blue. Glancing about the camp, Brock saw rocks glowing everywhere, with varying intensity. Now having a larger sample of Chaos users, Brock had discovered that individual strength with Chaos varied greatly. He had yet to find anyone who could rival his or Ashland’s ability, but nobody was as weak with the power as Harold was. Whether it was due to Harold having less inherent ability or was a side effect of his advanced age, Brock could only guess.

  Brock stepped away, walking down the line to check on the others. Shifting from the oldest prisoner to the youngest, he approached Adam. Although the boy was a few years younger than Brock, he stood a full head taller. Kidnapped from the streets of Wayport at the age of thirteen, Adam had spent the past two years laboring in the mine.

  “How’s it coming, Adam?” Brock asked.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever figure this out, Brock,” he replied.

  Brock clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Don’t give up. It’s hard to grasp Chaos the first time. Can you at least sense the energy I described?”

  “I think so.” Adam shrugged. “However, I can’t seem to get to it. I’ve tried anger and I’ve tried fear, but nothing seems to work.”

  Brock squinted, considering how age might affect Chaos again. Perhaps you had reach a certain age to access it.

  “Wait!” Brock heard Harold shout.

  Brock turned to find Harold in a hurried limp, his arms waving. Drake appeared oblivious, staring at the large rock face displaying the rune of Light drawn with coal.

  “Stop!” Harold yelled as Drake’s rune began to glow red.

  Something about the rune appeared off, causing Brock to stare at it in examination. Just as he realized a line was missing, the rock blasted apart. The concussion shook the canyon; blowing Brock off his feet to land hard on is rear. His chest hurt from the small chunk of rock that had struck him. Looking toward the source of the explosion, he noticed Drake and Harold lying on their backs. Red energy sizzled across the rocky ground, causing their bodies to twitch and shake. Black smoke began to emit from the two men and the surrounding earth. After a moment, the energy subsided and the smoke calmed to a smolder.

  Jumping to his feet, Brock ran over to check on the two downed men. When he drew close, a lump caught in his throat. He knelt beside Harold, finding the man’s eyes burned out and the hair of his eyebrows and head burned away. Brock placed a hand on the man and closed his eyes. He slipped into a shallow meditation as he sought the calm source of Order at his center. Enveloped in his own source of Order, Brock reached out to find the Order within Harold but found only an empty shell. The man was dead.

  Brock rose to his feet to go check on Drake, but he found Salina already kneeling beside the younger man with a barren, blackened scalp. A large chunk of stone was embedded deep in one of Drake’s eye sockets while the other was blackened like Harold’s. After a moment, Salina opened her eyes and looked up at Brock, shaking her head. Nobody could heal the dead although Brock had done it once. Charged with a Power rune at the time, he had used the added strength to force his own source of Order to bring Ashland back. Even then, the effort of using his own life source to bring her back had left Brock unconscious for days and was something he hoped to never attempt again.

  Looking down at the scorched earth, Brock’s vision began to blur from the tears forming. He glanced about and noticed others gathering around the two dead men. Knowing that these people looked to him for guidance, he swallowed his sorrow and addressed them.

  “I’m sorry, but they’re dead.”

  Tipper asked, “What happened?”

  Brock turned, pointing to where the destroyed rock had been. “The rune that Drake charged was drawn incomplete.” He turned to look Tipper in the eye. “Harold noticed it and tried stop Drake from charging the rune. I caught a glimpse of it before it exploded and noticed a line missing.”

  Tipper blinked, glancing down at the fried bodies. He swallowed hard and looked back up at Brock. “We had better make sure we draw our runes correctly, then.”

  For the first time in months, Brock felt a sense of fear at the thought of using Chaos. He had considered the use of the Light rune to be a harmless way to teach the others. He now knew that even the slightest use of Chaos came with deadly consequences.

  CHAPTER 10

  Rounding the bend in the road, Ashland felt a wave of relief when the buildings of Fallbrandt came into sight. She blinked to clear her eyes of the tears created by the cold bite of the wind and freezing rain, tears that may well have been tears of joy at having reached their destination. The past three days of travel had been cold, wet, and dreary.

  She slowed her horse as they reached the town proper, with Cam and Benny doing the same. Bouncing along on her sore backside, she led them through town to The Quiet Woman. They guided their horses around the building, heading toward the back. Turning the corner of the stable, an unfamiliar face emerged from Tipper’s old room. While Tipper was Unchosen and unmarked, this boy was marked with a Famulus rune.

  “Hello,” the boy said, smiling. “I’m Neddy. Are you staying the night?”

  Ashland nodded and climbed off her horse. She winced i
n pain as she stepped down from the saddle, putting a palm to the small of her back as she stretched in an arch. Hours of riding in the same position left her stiff, while days of riding had put her joints to the test.

  “Nice to meet you, Neddy. I’m Ashland.” She handed him the reins. “We’ll be staying the night, but the horses will be staying longer.”

  Nodding, Neddy began leading her mare into the stable. “I’ll be sure to take care of them. You can go inside and talk to Dory. She handles the money.”

  Ashland nodded again, smiling. The boy didn’t know who they were or that they knew Dory. She decided that it might be safer for Neddy not to know them anyway.

  Cam led Ashland and Benny across the slushy yard to the back door of the inn. He opened it and they stepped inside. Now out of the cold rain, Ashland unwrapped the scarf from about her head and shook her brown curls loose.

  Saul looked up from the oven, holding a tray of small meat pies. The portly man wiped beads of sweat from his balding head. Steam rising from the pies emitted an aroma that made Ashland’s stomach rumble in protest. The trail rations they had eaten during the day were not satisfying, and Saul’s cooking was the perfect cure for the hunger she felt.

  “Whoa!” Saul exclaimed. “So, the pretty lass has returned for some of Saul’s cooking.”

  Ashland grinned. “Hi, Saul. While I am looking forward to eating one of those pies, it’s unfortunately not the only reason for our return.”

  Sighing, Saul set the tray on the stovetop. “Yes, I know. Such is the way of the world.” He wiped his hands on his apron before wrapping his arms about Ashland. “’Tis good to see you again, though, my dear.”

  “It’s nice to see you too, Saul,” she said as he released her and turned to shake Cam and Benny’s hands.

  Saul smiled. “Cameron, have you come to try and eat Saul right out of the kitchen again?”

  “I’ll do my best, Saul,” Cam said with a nod.

  Benny shook Saul’s hand aggressively. “Hi, Saul. The food smells wonderful, too.” He glanced at Cam and Ashland. “These two have been pushing me like slave drivers, not letting me eat much nor rest my aching backside. It’s been a long three days of riding and I’m sore and starving.”

  Saul nodded, smiling. “You go on and give Dory your greetings. Saul will have the food out in just a few minutes.”

  Ashland nodded and pushed the door open to the raucous room on the other side. The buzz of conversation and laughter filled the air, bubbling up from the women who had gathered for the evening. As Ashland crossed the room, Dory spotted her. The handsome brunette stood and rushed over to meet them.

  Dory’s arms engulfed Ashland, squeezing her against her ample chest. “It’s great to see you guys.” She released Ashland before turning to hug the boys. “Where are the others?”

  Ashland’s eyes flicked toward Benny and then back to Dory as she responded, “It’s just the three of us. Brock, Tipper, Libby, and Parker are elsewhere.” She paused, taking a breath. “Lars is dead.”

  Saying it caused unbidden memories to resurface. Ashland recalled their risky gambit to attack the cave filled with banshees, burying them beneath a massive landslide before they sealed the portal the beasts used to invade the Empire. While she hadn’t witnessed Lars’ death, the thought of a huge banshee blade slicing him in half was enough to give her a shiver. She missed the jolly guy, despite his doubting nature.

  Sympathy reflected on Dory’s face as she gave Ashland’s hand a squeeze. “I’m so sorry to hear that, dear. I know how badly it hurts to lose a friend.”

  “Thanks, Dory.” Ashland glanced toward the floor, refocusing. “We need rooms for the night, and then we will need to leave our horses here for about a week.”

  Dory nodded. “Okay. I assume you can pay for their care.”

  Benny pulled a purse from inside his coat and handed it to Dory.

  Dory appeared perplexed as she untied the drawstring, her mouth dropping open when she peered inside.

  “Oh, My! This is far too much.”

  Ashland shook her head. “Keep it, Dory. You’re going to need it. We have a job for you.”

  * * *

  Ashland closed the door and collapsed onto the bed before pulling her boots off. She wiggled her toes, happy to be free of their confines. Laying back on the bed with her feet on the floor, Ashland drank in the luxurious feeling of the soft surface. After a long day of riding, a delicious hot meal, and two glasses of wine, she was exhausted. With a plan to rise early, she needed to get a solid night of sleep. She felt so exhausted that she dreaded even the small effort required to get undressed.

  Ashland. Brock’s voice rang in her head. Are you awake?

  Yes, but not for long, she replied. I miss you.

  She felt a warm rush through their bond. I miss you, too, he said. Where are you now?

  We arrived in Fallbrandt just over an hour ago. She paused. Dory says hi.

  Tell Dory I miss her, he sent, followed by a pause and the feeling of worry.

  What is it? she asked.

  After a moment, he responded. We had an accident today. Drake and Harold are dead.

  Ashland sat upright, alarmed. What happened?

  When Drake tried to charge an incorrectly drawn rune, the rock he had drawn it on exploded. She could feel him warning her through the bond. The energy of the uncontrolled Chaos lashed out and fried both of them.

  Ashland considered this revelation, realizing that she needed to be more careful with Chaos. She had begun to take it for granted, but this proved that Chaos was more dangerous than she had thought.

  Don’t worry, Brock, she replied. I’ll be careful.

  Please do, he replied. I couldn’t bear to lose you. Goodnight, Ashland.

  CHAPTER 11

  Cameron DeSanus knocked softly, stepped back, and waited. He glanced down the hall, feeling nervous about somebody seeing him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but sneaking into the Academy while it was still dark felt odd.

  With his stomach twisting, the anxiety of waiting for a response felt agonizing. Cam’s mind drifted back to the last time he had knocked on this door. His heart now belonged to Puri, but little time had passed since he had his heart broken by another girl, a girl whom he had thought he loved. Upon telling her how he felt, the girl had laughed in his face.

  Sounds of movement came from within the room. The door opened, revealing a tall, lithe, red-haired girl, her hair a mess. Rubbing sleepy eyes, she squinted at him.

  “Cam?” she said. “Why are you here, and why so early?”

  “Hi, Tegan.” It felt odd coming to her, but he didn’t have any better ideas. “May I come in?”

  She backed away, leaving the door open. Cam stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He turned to find her collapsed upon the bed. The white of her thin shift outlined her lithe form in the pale pre-dawn light, stirring memories quite a bit more pleasant than those that weighed on his mind while standing in the hallway. He grabbed her desk chair and slid it beside her bed before sitting.

  “I need your help,” he said. “You and I need to gather an army, but we have to be careful about how we go about it.”

  * * *

  Twisting the key in the lock until it made an audible click; Benny removed it and gave the key a kiss. The fact that he had somehow retained it, despite his travels and troubles, was miraculous. He glanced around, not seeing anyone in the Engineering Yard. Holding his breath, he pulled one of the huge doors open to allow the early morning light inside the oversized stall. A grin spread across his face, and he sent a silent thanks to Issal. He stepped inside and caressed the frame with his hand. Despi
te the bent wing and missing wheel, the flying machine was a thing of beauty. It represented possibility, what man might hope to achieve when reaching for the stars. He and Brock had flown. Though it hadn’t been far, they had done it. The crash at the end spoiled the achievement a bit, but such was the price to pay for progress. With a new plan in mind, he was confident that the next attempt would yield far more success.

  “Welcome back, Mister Hedgewick.”

  Startled, Benny spun to find a silhouette obscuring the pre-dawn light outside the stall doors. A short man with curly gray hair stepped inside, adjusting his rounded spectacles.

  “Master Nindlerod,” Benny stammered. “I didn’t expect you this early.”

  “You didn’t think I would sleep the day away, did you, sonny?” The old man smiled. “When I saw the note on my door, I came here straight away. I was curious as to who left it. It was your note, I assume?”

  “Yes, it was me.” Benny’s shoulders rocked as he thought on what to say next, how to convey his message. “I’m glad you came, sir. I need help, and you’re my best hope.”

  The engineering master’s bushy gray brow shot up. “What can I help you with, sonny?”

  “Remember the mysterious planet? The one you were tracking?” Benny began.

  Nindlerod nodded. “Of course.”

  “Well, we’ve discovered that it’s a portent, one tied to a Tantarri prophecy” Benny took a breath, hoping the old engineering master would believe him. With Nindlerod, being direct was the best tactic, so he was going straight to the point. He just blurted it out. “It warned of the return of The Banished Horde and stated that when the planet next appears in the evening sky, The Horde must be faced on the Tantarri plains.”

  Not wishing to give the old man time to scoff, Benny continued hurriedly. “I’ve seen them, Master Nindlerod. Their army crushed Sol Polis, killing everyone.” Grim images of the horror resurfaced, causing Benny to shiver. The next words came out as a haunted whisper. “They even ate their victims. It was horrible.”