Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles)

by Jamison Stone

  Rapidly, memories flashed around him and he saw visions of people. Aleksi knew them but could not remember their names. Try as he might, he could not even recall who they were or where they were from. Aleksi’s right hand throbbed as he saw a cloaked man appear. The man had shining white eyes and a face covered in Runes. As suddenly as he had appeared, the man was gone, causing the sensation in Aleksi’s palm to quickly subside.

  Next came a vision of a woman. She had yellow eyes, flowing blond hair, and a sweet smile. Aleksi felt warmth, love, and the memory of the rhythmic beat of a heart. But then she, too, faded, leaving him only with a familiar feeling of loss. Lastly, a man with long black hair materialized. His face was harsh and his green stare shone with a look of violence. As Aleksi looked into his eyes, the youth somehow knew the man was profoundly sad. Before Aleksi could speak, however, the vision disappeared and the youth was once again alone.

  Suddenly, Aleksi felt nauseous and the soothing dark expanse around him contracted. It was as if the world around him were being forcefully invaded. Aleksi then saw two gigantic and terrifying eyes of green fire stare at him through the murky gloom. Once they appeared, Aleksi instantly felt as if he were being attacked from within his own mind. Realizing that he was dreaming, he struggled to wake himself up. Before he could, however, he heard a booming voice emanate from the green blaze—a voice that rumbled like a crashing boulder.

  “DESPITE ELUDING MY SHADOW AT THE ACADEMY, YOU HAVE NOT ESCAPED ME, FOR I SEE THE GILDED PATH YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN BY THE GUARDIANS. THE ARKAI ARE NOT INFALLIBLE AND BY YOUR DEATH I WILL DESTROY THEIR HOLY MACHINATIONS.”

  Aleksi’s eyes shot open and he bolted upright in his bedroll. He was covered in cold sweat and gasping violently. Seeing a faint glow emanate from his palm, Aleksi frantically clutched his fist close to his chest to prevent the light from showing. Aleksi’s head and Rune-laden hand throbbed, and as he looked about the dark sleeping hall, it was as if he could still see the burning eyes from his dream and feel their deadly promise.

  High above the streets in Mindra’s Temple, Mehail Bander, Arva Vatana, and Jaiden Zeer sat around a table with High Priest Trailen Kaftal at its head. The light of the moons trickled down on them through the gilded crystal canopy overhead. The moons’ position said the hour was very late, yet the three leaders and their Guardian orphic seemed not to be affected. The ornate hall around them was large enough to admit the Guardians in the ages of old. Yet the table at which they now sat was relatively small. This allowed each of the Eastern leaders to clearly see their neighbors and easily argue their position and needs for Devdan’s Covenant of Eastern Amity.

  “Mehail,” Arva continued, “I will not surrender one blade of grass. Not for you or for Jaiden.”

  “The lands in question, my Lord Arva,” Jaiden interjected, “will not be surrendered, for they are not being sequestered. They will be explored and populated by all our peoples. As you know, nearly everything east of the Zenith Mountain and the Great Lake of Marhala is badlands. Yes, we each have borders there; however, the fell beasts that roam those wilds care little for the lines on your map.”

  “Regardless, I will not relinquish my territory—”

  “Arva, be reasonable,” Mehail interrupted. “We have been so busy fighting these past few generations. No one other than the Masters at the foot of the Zenith even knows what’s out there beyond the ruins of Marhala. If we are to stand against the North, we must press farther to the great impenetrable wall of mountains at the eastern edge of Terra. Together, we can go right to the mountains’ edge, right to Dagger’s Veil, and gain a foothold to mine its resources. The forecasted bankruptcy of the Bankers Guild is looming before us. We must expand and replenish our storehouses of black pearls now, while there is still time!”

  “A foothold, ha! Yes, you want a foothold at my back door so that you can invade whenever the season suits you.”

  “Is war all you can think of?” Mehail threw up his hands. “If we stand divided, we will not survive Asura’s trade tariffs from the North. He knows this and intends to bankrupt this entire continent. We have no choice but to unite and expand past the Eastern Zenith to claim our rightful place on this land!”

  “And expand I will,” Arva said. “But my people don’t need your help to do so. Whatever we find will be ours and ours alone!”

  “Lord Arva,” High Priest Trailen said firmly, “do not be filled with such false self-importance. It is well known that your riders fall in droves once they dismount and fight in the forests. Lord Jaiden of Farden will gladly attest to it. She deftly defeated you during your last invasion of her lands. The reason you have not explored the badlands in the Far East is simple. You are not able.”

  Arva didn’t respond and a thick silence settled over the room. As Trailen continued, the Rune imbued into his forehead glowed with a shimmering light.

  “I . . . I remember a time when my Eastern people held mastery over all the lands of this continent.” Trailen’s voice grew unnaturally deep and chilling, bristling the hairs on the back of each of the three leaders’ necks. “In the Guardian Ages, leaders did not frivolously quarrel over their petty egos but fought as one against the darkness to protect the gifts I bestowed upon them!”

  Trailen’s voice rumbled now and his eyes shone with the same blinding light of his Rune. “Do not defile your people’s honor, Lord Arva. Do not defile me!” Suddenly, the light on Trailen’s forehead was gone, and as he shook his head, the glow in his eyes faded as well.

  “My apologies, High Priest,” Arva said, now in a respectful tone. “But please tell me why I must surrender my lands. The badlands stretch across each of our borders.”

  “Because yours are not as thickly overgrown,” Jaiden answered. “Other than reckless adventurers, not my people, or even the Akasha Kwa’thari with their strange technology, dare go into the wilderness which borders us. We must start with your lands, for the vegetation is milder on the Eastnorthern plains. Then together, once we have a foothold, we can all move south. You will have an equal share there as well. This I swear to you, before the High Arkai Mindra himself.”

  “We just . . . ,” Arva said, eyeing Trailen. “We just must come to an agreement on the terms. My borders must be secure.”

  “And come to an agreement you shall, Lord Arva,” Trailen answered. “But do what is right for the people. For you”—he then gestured, including Mehail and Jaiden—“are all children of Mindra. Never forget that.”

  “Yes, High Priest,” Arva said, nodding solemnly.

  “I now must excuse myself, Lords,” Trailen said, smoothing his golden robes as he stood. “I will return shortly.” All three leaders bowed their heads low, each avoiding Trailen’s Rune with their eyes.

  Trailen walked to the hall’s entrance and opened the great double doors that led into the antechamber. Nodding to the small army of guards who stood at attention on the other side of the threshold, he then walked through the large vestibule toward an arched hallway. Taking a turn through a small corridor, he continued down a thickly carpeted hall toward the washroom.

  Passing ornate paintings and sculptures done in styles long lost to the ages, the High Priest frowned. His steps slowed as he came to a closed door on his left. This was not the entrance to the lavatory. Despite this, he stopped. Facing the door, Trailen then raised his right hand. He reached out with his mind, sensing and probing.

  Trailen’s frown turned to a scowl and he flung the door wide. The room was pitch black and the High Priest flicked his fingers open. In response, a brilliantly bright orb sprung into existence over his hand, illuminating the room.

  “Thank you for joining me, High Priest,” a supercilious voice said from the shadows. “I’m sorry to interrupt such important business, for that was quite the speech you just made. Very . . . inspirational.”

  “You are a long way from home, Luka Norte,” Trailen said, eyeing the man seated in one of several lavish armchairs at the far end of the room. Although Trailen’s shimmeri
ng sphere cast light on the man, Luka’s features were still strangely masked in shadow. “Speak quickly,” Trailen continued. “What business does a Master of the Northern Academy have in Mindra’s Temple?”

  “Several things bring me to the Eastern Arkai’s realm, High Priest,” Luka said, steepling his hands. “But the most important for you is a warning from Kaisra, High Arkai of the North.”

  Trailen’s eyes narrowed as he answered. “It is rumored your Northern lands have fallen under a shadow of darkness. So, then, I ask you, of what use is a dark omen to one who is still loyal to the light?”

  “Yes, there is darkness in Terra,” Luka said, shaking his head, “a darkness which obscures other nations from seeing their Arkai’s radiance. I tell you, however, my path is true to my Arkai’s will. A will that is bright enough to cast many a jealous shadow.”

  “Your Arkai’s will?” Trailen’s orb flared brightly above his hand. “Or the will of Asura?”

  “No, High Priest,” Luka answered, shielding his eyes. “This comes from High Arkai Kaisra directly. Please heed my words; it truly is important.”

  “Speak quickly.”

  “Soon you will be given power over all of Devdan. You must choose wisely, however, and remember your Northern allies if you wish the East to survive. We can protect your people, High Priest, but only if you let us.”

  Trailen let out a sharp exhalation and turned on his heel. The light over his raised hand winked out of existence as he stepped out into the hallway. The High Priest then slammed the door behind him, plunging the room back into darkness.

  CHAPTER VII

  Upon waking in the morning, Aleksi folded up his borrowed bedroll and left the basement dormitory. The Rune on his palm ached and his mind was filled with the dark visions from his dreams. Walking up the stone steps to the main hall, he saw Carli, the serving girl from the night prior.

  “I didn’t know Katrina found a place for you to sleep. Too bad, you and I could have had some fun last night.” A mischievous smile grew on Carli’s face. “If you’re lucky, we can make up for it tonight.”

  Because the sexes were sequestered at the Academy to prevent distraction, the look in the girl’s eye made Aleksi as uncomfortable as when facing Nataraja and training with live blades. “I . . . ummm . . .” Aleksi felt color running up his neck. “Have you seen Mistress Katrina this morning?”

  “She’s in the main hall.” Carli then slowly turned and looked at Aleksi over her shoulder. “Come find me when you’re done.” The young woman then walked away from him, her hips swaying hypnotically.

  Taking a deep breath and walking into the hall, Aleksi noticed that the large hotel seemed unusually empty. The main room held only a few patrons nursing away the aftermath of the former night’s revelry. Walking past the massive pillar of white flame, Aleksi approached the guest counter. Katrina was talking with a wiry old man who wrote furiously on a piece of parchment. Aleksi stood a respectful distance away as he waited for them to finish.

  After a moment, Katrina turned to him. “Why aren’t you out at the square to hear the treaty proclamation? I take it you didn’t get much sleep last night, eh?”

  “No, Mistress, I had a busy night.”

  “Well, by the way Carli was eyeing you, I’m not surprised.”

  Again, Aleksi felt color flood his cheeks. “That was not my meaning, I—”

  “Tell me, son,” Katrina said, interrupting him. “What’s your business in Mindra’s Haven? You here visiting for the festival? It doesn’t seem you’re that interested in these so-called peace talks.”

  Aleksi’s bandaged hand grazed the pendant in his cloak pocket. Although it was weightless, he felt its lingering pull. “Actually, I am here to find passage to Vai’kel. Nothing more.”

  “Hmmm. Well, you aren’t a sailor, that’s obvious.”

  “Indeed not, ma’am.”

  “Are you the son of a rich lord, then?”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “Then good luck finding a ship, hon. This city is full to the brim, and I’d bet passage will cost you more than that pretty sword at your hip is worth.”

  Aleksi placed a callused hand on his hilt. “I assumed I could find passage as a hired blade.”

  “Well, if that sword is not just for show, you normally would have little trouble finding work as crew, although a boy your age would be tasked with hauling lines instead of fighting pirates. But now, with the festival, Mindra’s Haven is saturated with all measure of men, and you would truly have to stand out to get any attention as sailor or swordsman.”

  “My abilities with the blade are not average, ma’am. I should have no trouble convincing—”

  “Well,” Katrina interrupted, “you’d have to prove it to the captain, and outside of starting a serious brawl, which would likely land you in the stockade, I don’t know how else you could prove yourself. But you know”—the mistress smiled—“you could work here for a few weeks. You’re strong and cute and I’m sure you would be very popular with the highborn ladies. I would make sure you had enough coin to get across the sea in no time. I even know a few captains. I could get you a discount so you had some pearls left over for your travels in Vai’kel.”

  “Thank you for the offer, mistress, but I must leave immediately.”

  “Shame, I could use you around here.” Katrina paused and scratched her head. “Well . . . there is another option, but I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested.”

  “Please tell me, ma’am.”

  “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of the exhibition matches yourself. They take place in two days in the Great Arena as the festival’s finale. If you get lucky and place in the top ten, you would get more than enough pearls and clout to be hired on any ship.”

  “I need something sooner,” Aleksi said, shaking his head. “I cannot afford to wait any longer than I already have.”

  Katrina cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not in any sort of trouble, are you, son?”

  “No, ma’am, just in a rush to meet up with my teacher in Vai’kel. He does not take well to tardiness.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but the arena is your safest bet.” Katrina laughed, shaking her head. “But what am I saying, hon? You’re only slightly older than a boy; best to just work here a spell. I’ve heard that some of the deadliest warriors from across Terra have traveled to Mindra’s Haven just to fight for this festival. Those men are a dangerous lot. They’ve been perfecting their fighting arts their whole lives.”

  “So have I, ma’am. So have I . . .”

  As Aleksi walked out of the hotel, he breathed in the fresh morning air and felt the warm rays of the Zenith on his face. The breeze smelled of the ocean, and he could hear the cackle of gulls overhead. Entering the street, he didn’t need to ask directions—the flow of people forced him west.

  Before Aleksi left, Katrina had told him that when he changed his mind, he was more than welcome to come back and work for her at the Guardian’s Flame. And although Aleksi was interested in the life of the city—which was to say, interested in talking further with the serving girl, Carli—he knew he could not afford to waste time working at Mistress Katrina’s hotel. Not only was Rudra’s warning clear, but Aleksi’s dream last night was profoundly disturbing. Aleksi knew that whoever wished him harm would soon be upon him. Because of this, Aleksi knew he would have to break another of the Academy rules—he would have to use his martial skill for profit and personal gain.

  Seeing the congestion of the main boulevard, Aleksi let himself be swept along with the crowd down a side street. People were all excitedly talking about the pending proclamation of peace. Next to him, however, one young boy of about eight was speaking insistently to his father about the exhibition matches.

  “Why do we have to wait two days, Da? I already saw him this morning. He’s really here! Can you believe it? Nara Simha, the Lionman, is here! Is it true that he fights only with his fists and when he puts on his yellow war paint, he has the power of a Guardia
n?”

  Aleksi saw the boy’s father shake his head and laugh. “Son, you will learn in time that most rumors you hear are filled with more fiction than fact.”

  “But he won last year, Da. You’ll see, he’ll . . .” The boy’s words were slowly overtaken by the noise of the throng as the waves of bodies at Aleksi’s back pushed him forward.

  After what felt like a very long time, the tightly packed crowd finally broke into Mindra’s Square. From his vantage point, Aleksi could clearly see the Arkai’s temple and great statue in the distance. Everything below the height of the statue’s glimmering wings, however, was obscured by a wall of people many times greater than what the youth had seen yesterday.

  Looking around, Aleksi saw an abandoned barrel at the mouth of a side street. He pushed his way past the bystanders to climb atop the container. Aleksi stood and drew a deep breath. Yesterday’s preparations were now completed and a wide path that ran down the middle of the square was partitioned from the crowd. Beginning at the outer gate, it ended at the western foot of Mindra’s Temple with a ramp and raised platform large enough to hold several legions of men. The platform was about a man’s height off the ground and stood directly below the temple’s main balcony.

  Aleksi let his eyes scan the crowd. Yesterday, he had gotten a feeling for the size of the great square. But now, seeing it filled with people, he truly understood how large it was. The mob moved like a swirling mass, flowing through marked trails in the chaos and kept in check by guards and festival attendants. Many thousands of tents lined the paths.