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

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  Brock’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

  Nindlerod rubbed his wrinkled hands together. “I plan to blow up some banshees with Hedgewick’s flash bombs. After that, I plan to climb into the trailblazer and grind up some the monsters. I heard that they’re big, but they’re still made of flesh and bone. Flesh is no match for the grinders mounted on the front of that thing.” The short man thumbed backward, toward the cooling trailblazer.

  Nodding, Brock found himself again amazed at how men like Nindlerod used their minds to solve complex problems with simple solutions. Brock liked Nindlerod and would hate to see harm come to the old Engineering Master, but the man was correct. Every person and weapon they added shifted the balance. Brock just hoped they were able to shift it enough to survive. Regardless, he trusted Nindlerod and was happy to have the Master Engineer’s assistance.

  “Very well, sir.” Brock replied. “Why don’t you get some food and some rest. I fear that we have mere hours before The Horde arrives.

  PART III:

  The Slightest Things

  CHAPTER 26

  Stepping outside his tent, Brock looked about in confusion. After a moment, he realized that the blue light he saw from his tent was coming from the swirled veins of glowstone embedded within the surrounding cliff walls. He spun about and found tall cliffs surrounding three sides of his camp while a dirt road ran past the open side.

  Brock took a few tentative strides and found himself on the road. He looked down the roadway, unable to see it beyond a turn a quarter-mile away. Turning about, he found that the road disappeared around a bend in that direction as well. The glowing cliff walls bordered one side of the road, and a sheer drop into darkness bordered the other side.

  Stepping toward the cliff, Brock leaned forward to look over the edge. Although he saw nothing but darkness below, he knew that the drop was a terrifying one. Brock backed away from the cliff, looked one direction, then the other, as he tried to decide which way to go.

  A scraping noise coming from behind Brock sent chills up his spine, the hair on his arms standing on end. His instincts screamed at him that something bad was approaching. He turned about and a wave of horror caused his throat to constrict.

  A maimed corpse shambled toward him, one arm and one leg dangling. For a moment, Brock thought that it was Hank’s animated body, somehow returned after falling over the cliff with the banshee at Glowridge Pass. As the mangled body drew closer, he recognized the few intact features of the crushed head and burnt face.

  “Tipper?” Brock whispered.

  “Why, Brock?” Tipper pleaded. “Why did you do this to me?”

  Brock shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Why couldn’t you just let me die, Brock. It was my time.” Tipper stopped just two strides before Brock, his twisted body swaying as if it were about to collapse.

  Tipper’s clothing was tattered, the bare spots exposing his scorched and bubbled skin. One of his legs was misshapen, the arm on the same side of his body now just a blackened mass.

  Guilt, pain, and disgust twisted inside of Brock. He didn’t want to lose Tipper but what stood before him was nothing like his boyhood friend. A sad howl from behind sent another wave of shivers up Brock’s spine, and he spun about to find another horror.

  Much like what remained of Tipper, Wraith’s hair and ears had been burned away. She whimpered in pain as she limped toward him, dragging her damaged body with her front legs.

  “No.” Brock whispered, tears tracking down his face. “This can’t happen. Not you, too.”

  Trapped between what remained of his friend and his dog, Brock could feel his world crashing in. Somehow, he had done this. He had done the unthinkable and brought them back from the dead, forcing them to continue a life worse than death. He sobbed with the pain and guilt as it threatened to crush him. The dark abyss called to him, promising peace. Brock’s eyes focused on the empty darkness beyond the road. In a flash, he made his decision and leapt off the cliff. The light faded as he plunged downward, toward the sweet peace that death offered.

  Brock. It was Ashland’s voice calling him. Panic struck as Brock realized he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He needed to be with Ashland.

  * * *

  Brock sat upright, panting as if he had just run for miles. His heart raced within his chest, and his pulse thumped in his ears. His clothing was damp, his forehead covered in sweat.

  “Brock?” It was Salina, calling from outside. “Are you awake?”

  Brock pulled the cloth off the glowlamp, allowing the soft light to illuminate the interior of his tent. Wraith sat upright, alert. Parker did the same.

  “Yes, Salina.” Brock replied, his voice sounding a bit shaky. The dream had been so vivid, feeling far too real. “Come in.”

  The tent flap parted and Salina stepped inside.

  She pushed long strands of hair from her face and ran her hand through her black mane. “A Tantarri messenger just paid us a visit, reporting that The Horde has been sighted and is expected to arrive within the hour.”

  Anxiety twisted Brock’s stomach, causing it to flutter wildly. Just when his heart had begun to slow, it began to pound again. The event he had been preparing for, yet dreaded completely, was fast approaching.

  “Thank you, Salina. Go wake the camp and get everyone ready.”

  She gave a nod before stepping back and letting the tent flap drop closed. Brock tossed his blanket aside and stood as Parker did the same. Wraith remained on her blanket, watching Brock in curiosity while he dressed.

  Brock pulled his damp shirt up and over his head and dropped it onto the bedroll. He knelt down and pulled a black leather vest from his pack, holding it up to stare at the red Chaos emblem sewn on the left breast. Now resigned to wearing it, he still felt odd about openly displaying the forbidden symbol. He flipped it around and examined the larger red Chaos rune sewn onto the back. With a sigh, he slid his hands through the sleeveless armholes before pulling the jerkin over his head. As he cinched the leather cord that tied the collar closed, he glanced at Parker, who was sporting a wide grin.

  “It looks good on you, Brock.”

  “Save it, Parker.” Brock replied. “I know you had a hand in this. There’s no other way Patrice could have gotten the material she needed for this vest or for the flag outside.”

  Parker shrugged. “Like it or not, Brock, these people are looking for you to lead them. A leader needs to stand out.” He slid the strap for his quiver over his head. “These people have spent their lives as Unchosen. They never had a symbol that meant anything before. The Chaos rune has become something special to them, more than any vocation rune. That symbol gives them purpose in life. You were Unchosen. You know I’m right.”

  Brock nodded, agreeing with Parker. It felt odd, their placing him on such a pedestal, but it was a pedestal he had built. He had no choice but to play his part.

  “Fine. Just be sure you’re wearing your Courage charm,” Brock said, sliding his own charm over his head before tucking it into his jerkin.

  Parker grinned and pulled the charm out for show. “Got it.”

  After slipping his black boots on, Brock grabbed his metal-reinforced staff and turned toward Parker. With his bow in hand, Parker gave a nod and followed Brock outside.

  The camp was a flurry of activity as Brock’s army of Chaos users were breaking up into their preassigned groups. After a moment of searching, Brock spotted Adam standing beside a wagon with a glowlamp in hand. Clusters of Arcanists dotted the area surrounding the wagon. As he drew closer, Adam’s eyes connected with Brock’s, reflecting the anxiety the younger boy was feeling. Brock could hardly fault Adam for feelin
g that way. Anyone, regardless of age, should feel trepidation on this night. However, the Courage charms should keep real fear at bay and help to keep their heads clear when the wails began to sound.

  Patting the taller boy on the shoulder, Brock gave him a nod and a small smile. “I hope you got some rest. It’s bound to be a long night.”

  Adam shrugged, “I tried, but sleeping proved difficult. I dozed a bit, but nightmares waited for me and sleep didn’t last long.”

  Brock’s head turned sharply, his eyes locking with Adam’s at the mention of nightmares. The feelings of dread and regret from Brock’s frightening dream still lingered.

  Parker sidled up to Brock and put a hand on his shoulder. “This is it, Brock. I hope they can do it. Your plan should give us a chance, but these people need to come through under pressure.” He leaned closer, whispering. “When things get hectic and people are dying, I hope they can keep it together. If they freeze or bolt, we’re done for.”

  Parker had a point, but Brock believed in them. He had no choice. “They’ll be fine, Parker. They know we are all in this together. The only way out is to win and we cannot win without their help.”

  Salina approached and nodded at Parker before addressing Brock.

  “Everyone’s here, Brock,” she said.

  Brock nodded. “Good. Thank you, Salina.”

  She looked him up and down, smiling. “You look good.”

  He felt a rush of warmth at the compliment, but didn’t respond.

  Brock turned and climbed atop the wagon to stand on the seat and held his hands high to attract the crowd’s attention. When the chatter subsided, Brock took a deep breath and addressed his army.

  “This is it, people. The dark army that has been feasting on the cities to the east is coming. It’s time for us to put an end to their meal by giving them a dessert they can choke on.” He smiled, hoping that the lightness of the statement might ease the mood. “All those hours of training you’ve endured these past few weeks were to prepare for this moment. You are no longer Unchosen. You are now Arcanists, able to wield the power of Chaos. Remember that tonight.”

  Examining the crowd, he found a hundred pairs of eyes focused on him. These people counted on him, believed in him, yet he knew that many who had followed him here would die. A pang of guilt tripped him up, causing him to forget his speech. He shook his head, refocusing. His plan should keep most of them alive, assuming that anyone survived. It was the most he could do.

  “Stick to the plan. Don’t try to be a hero. You aren’t fighters, so don’t engage the enemy unless you have no choice. You are far more valuable to our cause if you stay alive, so thinking that way isn’t selfish.” His gaze slid along the crowd, watching the nods in response to his speech. “As soon as you complete a task, return to camp to rest with your group and make sure you’re ready when we call you again.”

  Heads nodded, confirming understanding of what they were to do.

  “Light Squad One, pair-up. One person in each pair grab a stone from the wagon.” He pointed down at the wagon bed behind him, filled with fist-sized rocks. “Take the stone and gather at the cliff edge, half of you head north and half head south. Draw your runes, but don’t charge the stone. Be sure your runes are drawn clean and exact.”

  Arcanists began to cluster around the wagon, grabbing stones before joining their partners. In moments, a good portion of his little army had run eastward and had disappeared into the night. With them away, Brock addressed the remaining members of his army.

  “Light Squad Two, you’re up next. Grab a stone and spread out along the western edge of the battlefield,” Brock commanded.

  When the group ran off with their stones, less than half of Brock’s little army remained. The next group he addressed was among his most skilled with Chaos.

  “Shockwave Squad, make ready.”

  Nods from the group of twenty-four Chaos users confirmed that they were ready. Many of them appeared nervous, Libby among them. However, Brock wasn’t worried about Libby as long as Tipper was with her. As for the others, he hoped that their Courage amulets would help to keep them focused.

  “Spread out along the length of the long grass, at the west end of the burned field. Watch your spacing and try not to leave gaps larger than what we practiced.” His gaze landed on three former Academy students, easy to spot with their fake Order runes marking them. “Deidre and Luke, you each take an end of the row, Jerome take the middle. The three of you need to help coordinate those stationed near you.” His gaze swept across the group. “The rest of you are to fall in between. Remember to wait for the signal to draw your rune and for our troops to clear before you charge it.”

  With nods and “yes, sirs,” the group ran off.

  That left Brock, Parker, Adam, Salina, and twenty-three others.

  “That leaves the Power Squad.” Brock’s gaze scanned the faces of those who remained. “You are to head over to Captain DeSanus’ camp. Find Cameron or Sergeant Budakis and have them gather their best twenty-three fighters. When you’re finished, return here and rest until you are called upon.”

  Nodding, they ran toward the neighboring camp.

  Brock crouched and hopped off the wagon to land in the tall grass. He turned toward Salina and locked eyes with the dark-skinned girl.

  “I’m counting on you to help me keep them alive,” Brock said in a serious tone. “Don’t use Chaos if you can help it. You’re going to be our designated healer so the other healers who came with Cam can focus on healing the armed fighters. Jerome, Luke, and the others can assist you, but they might be spent due to their use of Chaos.”

  Her brow furrowed and her lips turned into a slight frown, appearing unhappy about Brock’s command. Regardless, she acquiesced. “I’ll keep them alive the best I can, Brock.”

  “Good. At some point, the fact that we’ve saved your energy might be critical.” He nodded toward Adam. “The same goes for you, Adam.”

  The younger boy shrugged. “My ability with Chaos is pretty weak. I’m not sure if it’s enough to make any sort of difference.”

  Brock patted the boy on the shoulder again. “You’d be surprised at how the slightest things can make a difference if used correctly.”

  Salina put her hand on Brock’s shoulder. “Brock, can I speak with you in private?”

  Without waiting for his response, Salina turned and walked away. Brock glanced toward Adam, who shrugged. After a brief moment of indecision, Brock hurried to catch up to the girl, reaching her as she approached his tent. She opened the flap and led him inside. He ducked through the opening to find the tent’s interior still illuminated by the glowlamp on the water barrel.

  She turned toward him. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done.” Her eyes were downcast, staring at the ground as she spoke. “You don’t know how horrible it was to be stuck in that prison. The hard labor and harsh treatment isn’t even the worst of it.” She paused, her eyes meeting his. “By the time you showed, I had lost all hope, not believing I would ever see anything beyond those walls again.”

  Salina stepped closer, placing her hand on his upper arm. Her palm felt warm against his bare skin.

  “You’ve given me hope again. You’ve given us all purpose, and even if we die tonight, we do so believing in something, believing in ourselves.” Salina’s dark eyes glanced down, as if seeking courage, before meeting his again. “Just in case we don’t live to see tomorrow…”

  Her eyes closed as her soft lips met his. Brock was startled at first, finding himself melting into the kiss before he knew what was happening. I love Ashland. I need to stop this. As he gathered the courage, she pulled away with tears in her eyes and bolted from the tent.

 
Brock stared at the tent flap, uncertain of what had just happened. Although he hadn’t initiated the kiss, he felt guilt churn within his stomach. He thought of Ashland, missing her more than ever. With a moment of calm before the breaking storm, Brock decided to contact her.

  Can you talk? He sent to her.

  After a moment, Ashland responded. Yes. How are things?

  Things are as good as they will get. He sent in reply while trying to mask the guilt that lingered. We arrived on the plains before The Horde and were able to prepare ourselves, but it sounds like their army will be here soon.

  A sense of alarm and worry carried through the open connection. Please be careful. Ashland sent.

  You know I’ll try, but we have to fight. I have no choice. He tried to send reassurance, but he knew it was a lie. Where are you right now anyway?

  We’re coming. There were some complications, but we’re past that now. We had to take a break on the way and slept longer than we intended. We should be there soon.

  Stay out of the fighting when you get here. Just help from a distance. He begged her.

  Okay, she replied, as long as I am allowed to heal you should something happen.

  Brock smiled. It’s a deal.

  * * *

  Cam gave Puri’s hand a squeeze, feeling reassured with her walking beside him. An ocean of stars and the bright presence of the mysterious planet illuminated the night and outlined the dark path where Nindlerod’s trailblazer had cut the long grass shoots down to stubs. The breeze had calmed after sunset, leaving the air still and the night quiet.

  “I see commotion in our camp.” Puri noted. “A scout must have arrived, warning of The Horde’s approach.”

  Cam stopped, pulling on the hand he held to draw her close. In the starlight, he could barely see her eyes, but he knew well how he felt when he stared into those precious brown pools. Cupping her cheek, he tilted his head and gave her a kiss, their lips lingering before he pulled away.