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

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  Ashland rolled her eyes. “Slowly. Unfortunately, there’s just no fast way to do it.”

  “How far along are you?” he asked.

  “Just a bit past halfway, and that’s after five and half days,” she replied, her eyes landing on a basket with a half-dozen metal-capped glass canisters. “How’s your little project coming?”

  Curious, she reached into the basket and picked up a canister. The metal capped-end felt heavy compared to the light body of the tube. It was just large enough to fill her open palm, making it easy to grip. She held it closer to examine the odd metal cap and the mechanism beneath it.

  Benny’s eyes grew wide. “Careful!” He reached out grabbed the canister from Ashland, gently sliding it back into its slot within the basket.

  “What the blazes, Benny? I was just curious,” she complained.

  “You don’t understand,” he explained. “These canisters are explosive. If you had dropped it, you would have blown us up. And whatever you do, don’t press down on the metal cap. It’ll ignite the canister.”

  Ashland’s widened at the thought, sending her pulse racing. Remembering Benny’s excitement about finding the flash powder at the mine and the mysterious package he had taken with him on this trip, the pieces of the puzzle slid into place.

  “You’re making these with flash powder, aren’t you? You plan to use them to blow up The Horde.”

  Benny flashed a toothy grin, nodding. “Flash bombs. They’re my latest invention.”

  Karl looked up at Benny, raising an eyebrow that was barely visible past the tube-like spectacles strapped to his face.

  “Sorry, Karl.” Benny said. “Our invention.”

  Karl nodded and returned to the intricate metal assembly before him.

  Benny turned toward Ashland. “You just keep doing your thing and we’ll keep making these. We need another day or two anyway because Nindlerod took six of my flash bombs yesterday. Karl and I will make a few more to replace the ones he stole.”

  “What’s he planning to do with them?” Ashland asked.

  Benny’s face twisted into a grimace. “I wish I knew. It’s been driving me crazy, and I haven’t seen him since he took them.”

  “Okay,” Ashland replied. “But before I go back to working on the flyer, I need some food.”

  Benny nodded in reply. “Sound good. Be careful though. The Masters are eager to discover how and why seventy-some students disappeared. It’s been a couple days now and I hear that they are quite upset over the ordeal. If someone who knows you spots you, it could be trouble.”

  “I’ll be quick and careful,” Ashland turned to leave.

  As she crossed the length of the Foundry, she wondered how far Cam and the others had gone. Although traveling in a group that size would slow them, she expected that they should reach the mountain pass by today. It would take them a day to breach the pass and another couple days before they reached the plains.

  She walked past a forge emitting a horrible smell, causing her to pinch her nose and hurry through the door to the hallway.

  With the students and instructors in class, the corridors were eerily quiet. It was so quiet that she didn’t see another soul until she passed through the Dining Hall and entered the kitchen.

  Recognition appeared on Shirley’s face when she spotted Ashland. The head cook called out some instructions to her workers and then rushed over to say hello.

  “Ashland. How are you today, my dear?”

  “Actually, I’m starving. I skipped breakfast, and my stomach is now protesting.”

  Shirley nodded. “I expected as much. People rarely come in here unless they’re hungry. We’re preparing beef tips and vegetables for lunch today and the first batch might be ready.”

  Ashland smiled at the mention of hot food. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  The old woman scooted off, milling about the kitchen as she spoke to one worker and then to another. When she returned, she carried a plate of steaming food with a fresh baked roll.

  “Here you go, dearie. You can go ahead and eat in my office again if you like.” Shirley handed the plate to Ashland.

  “Thank you, Shirley. Brock always says that you’re the best,” Ashland noted. “He’s right.”

  “Thank you, dear. When you see Brock again, tell him I miss him,” Shirley said with a smile.

  “I will.” Ashland said as she retreated through the small door to Shirley’s office.

  Ravenous, Ashland consumed the plate of food and dropped her tray of dirty dishes off with the intention to return to the Foundry. As she exited the Dining Hall, she collided with someone’s chest. Bouncing backward, her eyes shifted up to find the surprised headmaster staring back.

  “Ashland?” Vandermark said.

  “Um…sorry, sir,” Ashland said. “I was just leaving.”

  She tried to squeeze past the man, but his large hand clamped onto her wrist.

  “You’re not going anywhere until you answer some questions.” Vandermark said with anger in his voice.

  “Ouch! You’re hurting me!” Ashland shouted.

  Vandermark pulled her into the hall, his fist squeezing her wrist so tightly that her hand was already going numb. “You’re coming with me.”

  * * *

  Brock stood atop the wall, watching his army pass through the gate. Looking upon the ragged crew would never strike fear into anyone, but Brock knew their potential. They had come far in a short time. Almost every one of them could now harness Chaos to some extent, while some had shown ability that surpassed both Libby and Tipper. However, none could match Brock or Ashland, although Salina was close.

  Brock had hoped for an early departure, but every step of preparation took twice as long as he had hoped. His gaze shifted to the pale blue sky, where he found the sun just about at its apex. He frowned as it occurred to him that it was approaching noon and they were just now leaving.

  Salina stepped beside him and put her hand on his arm. “What you’ve done here is amazing, Brock.” She pointed toward her fellow former prisoners. “Most of those people have never had a purpose in life. Heck, most had given up any hope of a meaningful existence.” Her voice softened. “You’ve given us a reason to dream of a better tomorrow.” She turned toward him, her eyes meeting his. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  Staring into her large brown eyes, Brock suddenly became very aware of her hand on his arm, aware of the exposed skin revealed by her partially buttoned tunic. Brock’s pulse began to quicken, and he began to feel warm. Thoughts of Ashland surfaced, breaking him from the moment. He loved Ashland. He could control himself.

  He turned away from Salina and stared out toward the head of the caravan, now nearly a mile away. He thought about what Salina said, reminding him of how much these people were relying on him. Brock hoped that he could live up to their expectations and prayed that he would somehow justify the faith they placed in him.

  “I hope that Parker came through,” Brock said. “We currently have enough food for about two days.” He gestured toward the two wagons trailing the crowd. “That will get us to the plains, but we’ll still need to eat when we get there, and we’ll need food for the return trip.” He paused, his voice taking on a more somber tone. “Assuming we survive that long.”

  “I’m sure he’ll show up with more wagons soon,” Salina replied. Her voice took on a passionate tone. “I’ve seen nothing but dedication from everyone who follows you.” He resisted turning toward her as her hand caressed his bare arm. “How do you do it?”

  Brock grunted, not sure of how to respond. Although he didn’t look toward
her, the physical contact was clouding his focus. “Um, I don’t think it’s me. They’re just doing what they think is right.”

  “How can you say that?” Salina asked, pointing down toward the departing army. “Those people were helpless slaves with no hope in life a month ago. Now, they are possibly the most lethal army ever created. You did that, Brock.”

  Brock shrugged as he considered her words. In a matter of weeks, they had transformed from pathetic prisoners to magic-wielding Arcanists. He felt proud of how far they had come but didn’t feel that he deserved praise, not when he might be sending them to their death.

  After a moment, he climbed onto the ladder. ”Let’s go. Our horses are waiting.”

  * * *

  “Where are they? What have you done with my students?” Vandermark shouted.

  “I don’t know, sir.” Ashland replied, trying to remain calm in the face of the man’s tirade.

  “Don’t give me that,” he replied as he paced behind his desk, his arms clasped behind his back. “You, your boyfriend, and a few others disappeared months ago. Now, another seventy students and two more Master Instructors are missing right when you reappear. You and your cohorts obviously had a hand in this, and I mean to find out what’s happening.”

  Ashland glanced about the room, longing for an escape. Ipswitch, one of the Academy Enforcers, blocked the door with her large body, making it clear that Ashland would have to go through her to get out. While Ashland was fit, she wasn’t equipped to challenge the big woman without the aid of a weapon or the use of Chaos. She dared not use Chaos in front of Academy Masters, fearing that it would just make matters worse.

  Her focus shifted back to Vandermark, finding that he had stopped pacing and was now glaring as if he were a raptor bird and she a trapped rodent. She swallowed hard, thinking on what to do, about what to say.

  “Sir, I told you already. Brock received word that his father had grown deathly ill,” she repeated the tale she had desperately constructed. “We traveled to Port Choya to see the man before he died. While his time appears to be short, he remains alive so Brock stayed to tend to him, while I returned to the school.”

  “That doesn’t explain the others. Where are Cameron DeSanus, Parker Thanes, Benny Hedgewick, and Lars Merling?” the headmaster demanded.

  Seeing no other choice, Ashland maintained her charade. “I don’t know, sir.” She shrugged. “Those boys had been talking of fleeing the school, planning to make their own way in the world. I believe they left for that reason. The timing was merely coincidence.”

  Vandermark stepped forward, drawing uncomfortably close. Ashland stared up into the tall man’s dark eyes as he spoke low and quiet.

  “You don’t get to my position by believing in coincidence, my dear. I think that you are lying.” He stepped back and motioned to Ipswitch. “You aren’t going anywhere until I get to the bottom of this.”

  Ipswitch’s thick hands gripped Ashland’s shoulders, lifting her off the chair and onto her feet. The Enforcer spun her around and guided her toward a closed door. Using a key, Vandermark opened it to reveal a dark closet lined with shelves of books and wooden boxes. Ipswitch stopped Ashland before the door.

  “This way, I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” Vandermark said as Ipswitch yanked Ashland’s right arm behind her back. Ashland winced in pain.

  “Just give me a shout when you’re ready to tell the truth.” Vandermark shared a grim smile as a cold metal shackle clamped around Ashland’s wrist. “I will get to the bottom of this, my dear.” Ashland’s other arm was pulled back, her wrist shackled. “I am not a patient man, but I am a persistent one.” A rude shove from behind caused Ashland to stumble into the closet. She turned around to find Vandermark standing beside Ipswitch, the tall man and wide woman obscuring the room behind them. “I will win. You will tell me the truth, or you will die in that closet.”

  The door slammed closed, and the closet fell dark. Ashland’s eyes drifted down to the thin slice of sunlight coming from beneath the door, teasing her within the surrounding gloom. She heard a key sliding into the door lock, followed by a click that sounded all-too-final.

  CHAPTER 21

  Ashland jerked awake, startled by the click of a lock. The door swung open, and bright light poured into the closet. Squinting at the sunlight, Ashland blinked at the two blurry forms standing before her. As her eyes regained focus, she recognized Vandermark standing behind Ipswitch. The big woman bent low and held a tin cup before Ashland’s lips. As it tipped up, Ashland eagerly drank the cool water, not caring that a fair portion ran down her face and onto her lap.

  With the cup emptied, Ipswitch stepped back and Vandermark took her place. The tall man bent over, supporting his upper body with his hands on his knees.

  “Hello, my dear. I trust that you are enjoying your accommodations,” the Headmaster said. “If not, freedom is at hand. Only the truth divides you from your liberty.”

  Ashland swallowed, wishing for more water. They were intentionally giving her enough to remain alive and nothing more. She cleared her dry throat as she prepared to reply.

  “I told you the truth already,” she said adamantly. “I’ll not bury my friends in lies just to suit your desire for them to be guilty of something.”

  Vandermark frowned, visibly frustrated. He stood upright and whispered something to Ipswitch. The big woman stepped away, returning a moment later with a tray that she handed to Vandermark.

  He bent low again, holding it before Ashland. The steamy aroma of the meat pie made her mouth water, her stomach grumbling audibly within the tight confines of her prison.

  “I’m sure you’re hungry,” Vandermark crooned. “Doesn’t this hot meal smell delicious? It could be yours. Just say the word and you will find yourself freed and your stomach filled.”

  A day and a half without a meal had Ashland longing to eat. Her body trembled with each movement, aching for nourishment. She thought of Brock as she sought inner strength. Ashland would die before she betray him, knowing he would do the same for her.

  “No thank you. I find the terms of your bargain distasteful,” she said, with more strength than she realized remained within her.

  The Headmaster’s face clouded with anger. He yanked the tray of food away and handed it back to Ipswitch.

  “Fine,” he said, his voice seething with frustration. He stepped back, gripping the door. “You can rot in here for all I care.”

  The door slammed closed, the concussion of the impact causing Ashland to jump involuntarily. Footsteps thumped outside the door, fading until she could only hear her heart pounding.

  She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Her body hurt from sitting on the floor, her shoulders ached from her arms being shackled behind her back. Each time the door opened, she prayed that they might remove the shackles, partly to ease the pressure on her shoulders and partly because it might allow her to use Chaos to break herself free.

  Thoughts of Brock drifted into her head again as she pictured his intense green eyes and engaging smile. She missed him dearly and had even considered reaching out to him with Telepathy.

  Ashland recalled how her heart had ached when he had last contacted her, just hours after she had been locked in the closet. It was all she could do to keep her emotions in check, to not let him know what was happening. When asked if she was okay, he had thankfully believed her claim to be tired from the Infusion work that Benny had requested. Brock could do nothing to help her, so telling him would be pointless. She hated lying to him but it was the right thing to do in this case. Ashland didn’t dare distract him, for everything hinged on his mission.

  * * *

  “Okay,” Brock turned his horse and shouted.
“Let’s stop here for the night.”

  The small ravine would provide shelter against the wind. It unfortunately also meant that they would begin the next day with an uphill climb, but there was nothing to do about it if they wanted to stay warm during the night.

  Brock’s stallion shuffled backward as Brock pulled on the reins to move the horse off the path. Hoping they might find inspiration, Brock nodded and spoke encouraging words to the men and women who walked past his horse.

  A flash of black caught Brock’s eye and he turned toward Wraith, who stared at him in anticipation. It had taken some coaxing to get her to give him space so she wouldn’t spook the horses. His cheeks tugged the corners of his mouth as he watched the dog, unable to resist a smile. He loved her almost as much as he loved Ashland. The smile faltered when he remembered the night when Chaos had threatened to take Wraith. He needed to watch for any signs of recurrence. If he stayed with it, he could stop it and protect her. Thoughts of that event reminded him of the last journal passage he had read before they began their journey. Brock wished that Benny was around to discuss the passage and what it meant. He briefly considered contacting Ashland to use as a go-between, but he was afraid of what it might lead her to think.

  Sliding off his horse, Brock handed the reigns to Salina and strolled toward Wraith, her tail wagging her huge body in excitement.

  “I’m right here, girl,” Brock said as he approached.

  Wraith bounded forward, nearly knocking him over with her exuberance. He scratched her neck, earning him a head twist as she leaned into him. Brock looked toward the south, examining the incoming column of people. They appeared weary and worn as they walked down the slope to the floor of the hollow that was to become their camp for the night.

  He turned to the west, noting that the sun hovered just above the Skyspike Mountains. The high peaks remained white while the lower ground had given way to spring. Shifting his focus closer, he noticed that the surrounding hills consisted of reddish-brown splotches of dirt among green scrub. Here and there, errant pines jutted above the waist high scrub, appearing like silent sentinels watching over their smaller siblings.