Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles)

by Jamison Stone

  “At the precipice of eternal ignorance, turn from the edge of darkness, for if at any time upon your journey you take a life in anger, you will fall willingly into the hands of those who hunt you.”

  Aleksi released his grip on his sword with silent shock and felt the rage flood from his body in one quick rush—in its place all that was left was deep sadness and clawing shame. With a flourish of his long black cloak, Aleksi turned and, pushing aside the onlookers, reentered the flowing crowd of the market. Behind him the fat merchant stumbled over himself and rushed over to his wounded and whimpering guardsman as the collection of gawking market members watched in shock.

  Wiping the phlegm from his face, Aleksi looked down at his throbbing palm. His Rune had begun glowing once again. Quickly clenching his fist to hide the light, he felt the nerves of his bandaged hand pulse painfully with numinous power.

  What have I done?! Am I no better than the fallen Masters of old? Aleksi thought as he continued to make his way toward the shimmering statue of Mindra at the center of the square. A Master is supposed to preserve life, not take it! Unless that man can afford immediate Runic healing, his arm will be crippled forever. Maybe Nataraja is right about me . . . Maybe he is right about everything . . .

  As he quickly moved on through the mass of people, the burning pain in Aleksi’s palm steadily grew stronger and spread up his wrist. This Rune is too powerful. I could hardly control myself. If anyone reports what happened to the market’s guards, it could alert those who search for me. How could I be so reckless? How could the Rune affect my emotions so greatly? What is it doing to me?

  Suddenly, the pain intensified exponentially and Aleksi doubled over in agony. Instead of burning dully as it had for the past several days, the Runic pain in his hand surged up his arm as it dug its sharp metallic tendrils deep into the nerves and bones of his wrist and forearm. Aleksi had known a life of pain—in truth, his life had been pain. Nataraja had always said that pain was the ultimate teacher—the ultimate purifier of emotion and thought. But this pain was different. This pain was not a teacher but the signal that without the help of a Master, Aleksi’s Rune would soon kill him.

  At this rate, the Rune will kill me before anyone else gets the chance!

  Aleksi’s breath came in ragged gasps as the tendrils of fire moved past his elbow and into the flesh and bone of his upper arm. His vision blurred, causing him to stagger and fall to one knee on the cobblestones. Several people near him glanced over, but when they saw him double over and clutch his arm in agony, each turned away and hurried onward.

  As the pain threatened to consume his body and mind, Aleksi looked up and saw the shimmering statue towering above him. Understanding suddenly flooded into Aleksi’s mind, and through sheer will he urged himself back to his feet. Stumbling past people in the crowd, he forced his legs to move toward Mindra’s luminescent brilliance.

  Cradling his throbbing arm and shambling through the masses, Aleksi finally arrived at Mindra’s statue. He staggered up the steps to the figure’s foundation and collapsed at the base of its shining beauty. Although the Rune was now bright enough to shine out from his bandages, its glow was obfuscated by the far greater light of the statue. Feeling white-hot fire surge through his body, he placed his glowing palm on the statue’s smooth, radiant surface. Despite the torrent ripping its way through his arm, somehow Aleksi was comforted.

  Not knowing what else to do, Aleksi steeled himself against the anguish, pressed his palm harder against the statue, and listened. The sound was extraordinary: behind him, he could hear voices rise up from the market, selling wares, shouting news, and toasting friend and neighbor; yet in front of him, coming from the statue itself, was a sweet, melodic vibration unlike anything he had ever heard. Aleksi gritted his teeth as the Runic inferno raged on, and tried to open himself to the statue’s sound. It was almost a hum, or a sympathetic resonance with the Zenith’s light. Suddenly, the nerves of his bandaged arm pulsed not in pain, but in harmony with the statue’s light. As he pressed his glowing palm even more firmly against its surface, the statue leached the pain first out of his hand and then from his entire body.

  Continuing to take ragged breaths, Aleksi felt tears run down his cheeks as the pain was drawn out from his body and consumed by the light of the statue. Flooded with relief, he lowered his hooded head in reverence as the statue’s grace silently flowed through him. By the grace of the Arkai, he was not going to die—at least not yet.

  How could Master Rudra have known? How could he have predicted this in his letter?

  With the pain now reduced to manageable levels, Aleksi wiped the tears from his face. His Rune had stopped glowing. Unable to look directly at the shimmering stone due to its brilliance, Aleksi shakily pressed his palms together and bowed his head deeply.

  Thank you, High Arkai Mindra. I vow to somehow be worthy of your blessing.

  After the bow was completed, Aleksi swallowed hard and, still averting his eyes, turned away from the statue. No one in the busy marketplace around him even gave him a second glance. They were going about their business as if nothing had happened.

  A fitting gift from the Guardians, Aleksi thought as he squinted his eyes and looked back toward the luminescent statue towering above. All these people just plod along, paying no mind to this shining marvel above them. They give no thought to the mysteries of Terra and the Guardians who protect them from the encroaching darkness. They also give no thought to those who misuse this power . . .

  Although it was yet to be proven, many Masters debated if the statue itself was created as a Runic tool. Those who argued so claimed it must be one of extraordinary power and might. While all logic would suggest that this was highly probable, no actual Runes had been observed on the figure, even by the most powerful of the High Masters. This implied that either the hypothetical Runes did not exist, or they were too potent to be accessed by anyone who walked Terra in the Modern Age.

  It was taught at the Academy that Runes, although normally conjured out of thin air, could also be imbued onto, and therefore in, physical objects, giving the objects astonishing powers. It was theorized that much like a Rune Blade, the Runes in this statue were hidden and lying dormant until a Master of appropriate synchronization was able to awaken them. Spread across Terra there were many such tools with engraved Runes. Some were great, and some were small. But despite their size, their actual effects varied depending on the Runes themselves. The object’s strength also depended on the one who originally cast the Rune, while being further affected by the one immediately using it.

  Conversely, some Runes were always active. These Runes—which didn’t need to be invoked by a Master—granted passive abilities to objects: an indestructible wall, an ever-fruitful tree, or even personal items, such as a privateer’s distance-seeing spyglass. Likewise, other Runes needed only the simplest of cues to work, like a door that opened only at a special word, or a hearth that never went out so long as there were people in the room. The most powerful Runes, however, needed an equally powerful Numina user to activate them. Only those educated at the Academy possessed the level of Runic training required to awaken such objects and unleash their power upon friend and foe alike.

  Supposedly, in the Ages of Lore, Masters had much more control over Numina and were able to cast Runes into all manner of things, ranging from weapons and armor to jewelry and personal belongings. It was said that Masters would even imbue humble objects like farming equipment and building materials. They could grant boons such as increased intelligence, fortified strength, and other potent enchantments. Legends even told of abilities such as weightlessness, thermodynamic change, bodily regeneration, and other miraculous feats that many now hardly believed. Sadly, legend also said that some Masters, having fallen to darkness, created Runic tools that possessed much more sinister purposes. Unfortunately, the skill of Rune imbuing had been lost to the Masters, and the remaining Runic items were heralded as priceless artifacts, highly coveted and constantly fough
t over.

  In addition, although they were now only spoken about in the Academies, there were legends of Masters in ages past who had Runes imbued directly into their flesh. In the Modern Age, it was commonly believed that only the High Priests and Priestesses of the Order of the Arkai possessed a physically imbued Rune. The High Order of the Arkai’s Runes, however, were a sacred gift personally given by their patron Arkai and passed down through the ages through holy succession. In contrast, with no Arkai to mitigate their Runes’ use, the Rune-imbued Masters of ages past were a different matter entirely. Due to their rarity and vast ability, these powerful men and women were referred to in hushed whispers only. For although there were many inspiring stories of imbued Masters who used their power to protect, there were also an equal number of dark legends of Masters who used their vast Runic abilities to corrupt and enslave. Because of this, the knowledge of how to actually perform a biological Rune imbuing was not found in any of the Academies’ treatises, and most believed the potent secret was lost to the sands of time.

  And then the seemingly impossible happened: Rudra was born—a baby whose body was covered in Runes . . . Aleksi looked down at his bandaged hand, feeling it once again pulse with numinous power. And even though all the Masters of the Academy say the contrary, if Rudra’s past gives any glimpse of my future, then my being born with even a single Rune is infinitely more of a curse than a blessing . . .

  Aleksi let out a sigh and looked back up to the great statue looming above him. After bowing his head, Aleksi stepped away from the luminescent stone and continued onward through the crowd.

  But instead of arguing endlessly about what to do with these last Runic tools—or with me—the Masters should be more concerned with why they have lost the ability to imbue in the first place. They should be concerned with why the Guardians have neglected us these past ages—what we have done to deserve being abandoned, and what we need to do to be redeemed.

  Still cradling his bandaged hand, Aleksi left the statue and continued on through the market. Although weakened, he kept his gaze alert and scanned his surroundings carefully for any sign of danger. Eventually, the crowd thinned and he saw the entrance to the city’s main boulevard. On this side of the square, space was open and free of tents and trade. Aleksi saw that there were even long paved paths and grassy places for people to congregate, recline, and mingle.

  In one such space, Aleksi saw a ring of five children holding hands and singing as they danced in a circle. Their song was eerily melodic and foreboding:

  “We rest our heads and sleep us together shall take

  To the land between eternal dreams and wake.

  So long as darkness does not us interrupt

  We shall dance till dawn in the Dreamscape uncorrupt.”

  The children then all curled up in the grass next to each other and pretended to go to sleep. If what Aleksi had been taught at the Academy was true, he doubted very much that these children knew the true meaning and purpose of their song—or the risk they faced invoking the Dreamscape’s power.

  Looking past the playing children, Aleksi saw many more paved paths in this part of the square. Most of them led to gardens with fountains and pools of water, clusters of trees, and even several small ponds with benches and tables. As he passed, Aleksi saw a mallard and her line of baby ducklings close in tow headed to a nearby pond. Although they paid Aleksi little mind and continued waddling across the flagstone as he strode by, the sight reopened a deep pain which had been dormant for a very long time.

  Training at the Academy was so austere that students were never allowed to see their former families once they began their tutelage. Aleksi pulled his hood farther over his face. Even though they are separated so young, at least the other students knew their parents. My earliest memory is of Master Rudra leaving the Academy to go on one of his missions. When I asked him, or any of the other Masters, what happened to my parents, all they would say was that they were dead. Rudra was all I had, and then . . . Aleksi pushed away the memory of Rudra’s exile from the Academy. He, too, was taken from me.

  Farther on beyond the paths, instead of sharing an edge with the city wall and harbor like the market, the eastern half of the square was lined with soaring buildings jutting up to the sky. Crafted exclusively by the Guardians, these structures stood far larger than anything that could be attempted in the Modern Age. This magnificent precinct was known as Guardians’ Plaza. There was everything here a wealthy traveler or native could want when coming to the Eastern capital. This made Mindra’s Square and its surrounding buildings of Guardians’ Plaza the center point of the city’s culture and life.

  With residential spaces above, the buildings’ lower levels were lined with luxury storefronts all eager to tend to those who could afford their services. The shops were filled with respected and well-dressed yellow-eyed maidens and men, all staffing their stations with pride. Looking higher, Aleksi gazed up at the buildings’ finely carved upper levels, which housed the wealthy in lofty spires and majestic towers. Since Terra’s Zeniths were stationary, each building’s most coveted side was the one that directly faced the Zenith’s light. These locations were for the most elite of the elite, and Aleksi could not imagine the black pearl cost of a Zenith-side penthouse in Guardians’ Plaza. The buildings’ gallant points rose high above the other structures in Mindra’s Haven and reflected the Zenith’s glimmering light upon their lesser neighbors.

  Looming above them all, however, at the front of Guardians’ Plaza, was the glorious Mindra’s Temple. Heralded as the shining star of the city, the famed temple was a beacon of hope to the Eastern people and abutted the entrance of the city’s center boulevard. The temple was the tallest building on the entire Eastern Continent and possessed a large crystal spire atop its massive center dome. This magnificent structure housed both the Eastern Order of the Arkai, led by Mindra’s High Priest and Rune holder, Trailen Kaftal, and Adhira’s High Council, the ruling body of Mindra’s Haven, headed by Mehail Bander.

  As Aleksi came closer to the temple, he saw scores of workers setting up massive fairgrounds for the festival. In addition, he noticed droves of people congregating around the temple in anticipation of tomorrow’s proclamation. The lower floors even seemed to be open to visitors, but despite Aleksi’s profound curiosity, he dared not enter.

  Aleksi felt his bandaged palm burn painfully with anticipation. Looking back, the youth saw a hooded figure following him through the crowd. Aleksi quickly ducked behind a pair of workmen carrying a large pallet of wood and doubled back on his stalker. Keeping his head low to avoid detection, Aleksi circled around and watched the man carefully.

  Just as Aleksi was about to disappear back into the crowd, he saw the hooded figure quickly scan his surroundings and draw a wickedly curved dagger. Aleksi’s heart raced as he firmly gripped the hilt of his sword, preparing to strike. Instead of lunging, however, the hooded man intentionally bumped into a sailor directly in front of him and deftly used his dagger to cut the sailor’s purse from his belt.

  That’s no Shadow Assassin—just a petty thief. The Academy’s Vow states that I must enact summary judgement for such obvious crimes. Aleksi clutched the hilt of his sword and gritted his teeth. However, that same Vow also demands my execution for abandoning the Academy. If Master Rudra’s letter is correct, too much hangs in the balance and I must do all in my power to avoid detection. No matter my Vows, justice must wait—on both accounts . . .

  Opening his hand, Aleksi looked down at his bandaged palm. Underneath the cloth wrappings, his Rune was once again emitting a soft glowing light that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He knew that if he came too close to the temple, the Order’s acolytes would be able to sense his growing power, and he would surely be detained for questioning as to why he, a student of the Academy, was alone without a Master. If he lived through the ordeal, he would undoubtedly be held captive until the Enforcers came to deliver their fatal punishment.

  Because of this, Aleksi cut a
large arc around the temple as he made his way to the city’s center boulevard. Aleksi had never imagined that he would forsake the vow and disobey the Masters. But Rudra’s letter had already predicted much more than what Aleksi thought possible. If anything else of the letter was true, Aleksi’s threatened fate was profoundly clear.

  CHAPTER III

  As Aleksi made his way past the temple and down the long boulevard through the heart of the city, he pulled Rudra’s folded letter from his pocket. Opening the parchment for the countless time, he studied the scrawled words on the worn page carefully. Although he had received the letter only several days prior, he had read the prophetic words many hundreds of times, desperately trying to understand their hidden meaning. Whatever Rudra’s intent had been by keeping his message so obscure, it made the task of following his beckoned trail nearly impossible. Fear crept into Aleksi’s heart as he shoved the paper back into his pocket. If he could not make sense of his Master’s riddles, all would be lost.

  Trying to take his mind off the pulsing pain underneath the bandage and his desperate situation, Aleksi looked about the crowded street. With the temple now at his back, the wide thoroughfare of Guardians’ Plaza was lined with towering buildings of beautifully carved stone. They reached into the sky and stretched on farther than he could see. Instead of looking up at the striking masonry, however, Aleksi found his attention caught by the magical wae’yrr trees.

  These majestic maples were created by the Guardians and gifted to the inhabitants of the city in their time of need. The arranged rows ran along either side of the central boulevard as it continued westward through the city. Spaced out one by one, each tree’s bushy green foliage touched the adjacent trees’ canopies in tight succession. Swaying gently in the breeze, they cast a cool shade on the pedestrians who strode on the street’s footpath below. But as Aleksi passed under their shadows, he wished he might have time to see them at night.