Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles)

by Jamison Stone

  Aleksi was still some distance down the path and could not tell how many men were in the clearing. He did, however, hear several more sharp reports of a whip, answered by howls of pain. After killing a third man, Nara looked over as Aleksi continued running. The enormous man’s eyes were fully dilated, for the euphoria of the stimulant-induced battle rage—used only by the adrenalized North-Eastern Iksir Berzerkers—was now coursing through his bulging veins.

  Letting out another guttural roar, the Lionman engaged a fourth man. Aleksi watched as Nara waved away the soldier’s sword with his gauntlet and grabbed the man’s skull. The Lionman let out a terrifying growl and squeezed. Nara’s muscles bulged, protruding from his form in a way Aleksi had never seen, and his mighty grip crushed the soldier’s skull. Throwing away the pulpy mess, Nara charged across the square in a blinding rage toward a nearby group of soldiers.

  Aleksi broke through the mouth of the alley and saw Fa’ell fighting several Pa’laer soldiers some distance away. She seemed to be protecting a handful of huddled civilians at the base of Mindra’s statue. The soldiers circled her viciously, however, closing in with blades drawn. Aleksi ran past Nara and his bloody melee and rushed over to Fa’ell just as the soldiers simultaneously lashed out at her.

  Fa’ell hit the closest warrior in the eye with a sharp strike of her whip’s cracker. The man’s eye exploded and he fell to the ground, clutching the socket as blood spurted out through his fingers. Another soldier slashed out with his sword but Fa’ell acrobatically dodged the blade and her whip struck again. The cracker raked the man across the throat and his face convulsed in a wordless scream as he fell to the paving stones.

  As Aleksi entered the fray, another soldier heard his hurried footfalls and spun. The man swung his sword, trying to slice the youth from forehead to navel. Just like he had been taught at the Academy, Aleksi slid to the side of the strike, rushing out of the blade’s way as it cut through the air. Aleksi then reached out and followed the sword’s arc of movement to completion. When the blade reached the bottom of its strike, Aleksi used both hands to deftly grip the man’s wrist and hilt in a powerful joint lock. Using the hilt as a fulcrum, Aleksi then flipped and rotated the soldier’s sword vertically. This brought the blade’s tip up so it pointed to the sky with its cutting edge reversed back at the man.

  The soldier, now facing the blade of his sword, tried to wrestle himself free. Aleksi held him firmly, however, and the man’s wrist threatened to break under his own strained movement. The soldier tried to kick out at Aleksi, but as he did, Aleksi cut down with the sword. The movement first snapped the man’s wrist with a loud pop and then embedded the soldier’s own blade into the thick of his skull. Blood squirted out from the man’s forehead and splattered on Aleksi’s face.

  Startled, Aleksi released the hilt of the sword as the soldier staggered back. Wide eyed and terrified, the man numbly fumbled at the blade as he fell over onto the paving stones. Aleksi watched in horror as the soldier’s eyes raced wildly and blood flowed from his head. “Sweet Akasha . . . ,” Aleksi whispered, looking down at the man’s cleaved face. The sword was still deeply lodged in the man’s skull and his fingers clutched at it futilely as he died.

  Suddenly, another soldier charged, forcing Aleksi to spin and evade an attack at the last second. Before the soldier could swing again, however, there came a swift rush of wind and the tight knotting sound of leather. The man went motionless and his eyes grew bloodshot. The long fall of Fa’ell’s whip was wrapped securely around the soldier’s neck. The man clawed at his throat and tried to free himself, but Fa’ell pulled back on the whip’s thong and yanked him off his feet. The soldier fell to the ground and soon stopped struggling as his face turned purple and bloated with dark blotches.

  Aleksi looked over at what he had thought were huddled civilians. In truth, they were only corpses. A wave of nausea rolled over him as the pain of his Rune flared. The man with the missing eye then stumbled to get to his feet and tried to run. Fa’ell’s whip struck out again. It caught the fleeing soldier’s neck in a stranglehold. She then pulled the man off his feet and he fell back. The soldier’s remaining eye rolled up into his head and he clawed at his neck, breathless and dying.

  With no remaining soldiers near them, Aleksi looked over to Nara at the base of Mindra’s shimmering statue. Where there previously had been ten Pa’laer soldiers, now only two remained standing. They had Nara at either end, however, and the speed with which the large man had once moved was gone. As a side effect of his soma paints, a sluggish torpor replaced the Lionman’s battle rage.

  One of the soldiers swung down and slashed Nara’s side with his blade. Even at a distance, Aleksi saw the slice cut a clean gash in Nara’s external obliques. Nara seemed unaffected by the blow, however, and struck the man in the mouth with an attack that followed through with the full force of his enormous body. The soldier’s jaw was bashed off by the strike, causing a gooey mess of blood, bone, and teeth to spray from the man’s mangled face.

  The other soldier slashed next, and the attack carved Nara across his shoulder blades. Enraged, the large man let out a terrifying howl, and as he spun around, blood squirted out in a ninety-degree arc from his back. Now fully facing his attacker, Nara parried another blow from the soldier’s sword before grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him off the ground. Nara then squeezed. The muscles in his massive forearm clenched and his mailed fist audibly broke the soldier’s neck with a series of hollow cracks. As Nara threw the lifeless man aside, he scanned the square with eyes that blazed with the fiery, drug-induced mydriasis of soma battle madness.

  Seeing no more soldiers, Nara stumbled toward Fa’ell and Aleksi. He was clumsy in his stupor, however, and tripped over himself after only several steps. The large man fell down hard on his side with a solid thud. Struggling to get to his knees, Nara had a look of confusion on his face. His eyes were dilated and unfocused and drool flowed copiously from his mouth.

  “You damned fool,” Fa’ell shouted, cracking her whip. “You will die of overdose!”

  Nara’s head reeled and he tried bracing himself on the ground with a massive hand, but it seemed only to destabilize him more. He looked beseechingly at Fa’ell as he floundered in a growing pool of his own blood and saliva.

  “He is bleeding badly,” Aleksi said, rushing over. “We need bandages!”

  “Wait! He might lash out, you must let me.” Fa’ell held her whip’s thong deftly as she stalked toward the large man.

  “Ff’al . . . Brronn paain . . . ,” Nara mumbled as he pulled himself across the stones and left a streak of blood and spit in his wake. “Brroon paainn . . .”

  Fa’ell came next to him, and Nara fumbled his hands toward her blindly. Just as he was about to grasp her in his massive arms, however, she lithely leapt over his shoulder and thrust her fingers into one of the pouches on his belt. Her hand came away slick with a dark-brown paint, and she smeared it over the deep gash on his back. Next she spread it on his side and then over his self-inflicted wounds on his arms and chest.

  At first, Nara protested. Blindly flailing his arms, he tried to swat her away. But soon he stopped and lay back onto the paving stones as a wide grin spread across his face. His eyes were locked on the glittering statue of High Arkai Mindra, and a steady stream of drool ran from his smiling mouth.

  “I’ve heard stories of the Berzerkers,” Domadred said, as he, Beck, Brayden, and Kefta made their way over to the statue. “But seeing the real thing in action is actually quite terrifying.”

  Hearing the captain’s words, Fa’ell spun on her heel. She raised her whip high, poised to strike. “Fa’ell, it’s OK,” Aleksi said from next to her. “They are with us.” Fa’ell eyed the four newcomers suspiciously and seemed to not recognize Kefta.

  “My lady, I am General Beck Al’Beth of Mindra’s Haven,” Beck said, trying to stand tall. “We mean you no harm.”

  “I know your face, General,” Fa’ell said, eyeing Beck’s massive sca
r. “I’m sorry. I tried to help your people, but . . .” Her words trailed off as she looked at the fallen bodies of the citizens of Mindra’s Haven lying in pools of their own blood. “They were praying at Mindra’s feet when the soldiers attacked. I tried to save them . . .”

  Beck swallowed hard. “They will be avenged.”

  Brayden gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword in a white-knuckled fist as he looked at the piles of bodies. Casting a wary eye at Fa’ell, Kefta left Beck’s side as the group made their way to the statue’s base. The young man then went over to the fallen bodies and crossed their hands over their hearts.

  Aleksi knelt down over Nara’s painted body and looked into his delirious eyes. Although still dilated, they were now focused, staring at the glittering statue above them.

  “Will he be . . . OK?” Aleksi asked.

  “Oh, I’m quite sure he’s enjoying himself,” Fa’ell answered. “But with such a high dose, he should be dead. Lucky for him, I was able to get the counteragent into his blood nearly instantly courtesy of the sword wounds from the dead soldiers over there.” Fa’ell then pointed over to the pile of bodies. Her finger lingered over the man whose neck was bent at a very unnatural angle and then the other who was missing half his face. As he followed her gaze, Aleksi’s stomach turned over and he felt another wave of nausea flood through him. He clenched his bandaged fist and, trying to suppress his nausea, focused on the sharp tendrils that dug into the flesh of his hand.

  “I’ve heard the brown paint acts as a coagulant and sealant,” Domadred added. “It will stop the bleeding and keep his wounds closed, correct?”

  “Yes,” Fa’ell answered, eyeing Domadred keenly. “And depending on how much blood he has lost, he should either die very soon or awaken quite shortly.”

  “Damn good thing,” Kefta said, as he finished performing the last rites to the fallen civilians. “There is no way we can drag him to the ship. He must weigh over a hundred and fifty kilos!”

  “You!” Fa’ell spun to face the young man. Recognition shone in her teal-flecked amethyst eyes and she cracked her whip. “You filthy piece of sea trash. I will kill you for your insults!”

  “Whoa there, little lady,” Domadred said, jumping in between them with his arms held out. “Whatever your issue is with Kefta, which I’m sure is justified and well deserved, you will have to settle it on the ship. He is a member of my crew, which means that by the Law of the Sea, he can be sentenced and put to death only while aboard my vessel. And if such a judgment is passed, just make sure you kill him above deck.”

  “Captain, that is not funny!” Kefta said, moving behind Domadred.

  “You are no captain of mine,” Fa’ell hissed. “And there obviously will be no arena fights, so he will pay his debt here and now! I think a hand will suffice.” Her whip then lashed out over Domadred’s shoulder and caught Kefta by the wrist. Kefta cried out in pain as a trickle of blood ran down his arm.

  “What’s that, little boy?” Fa’ell asked, laughing. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

  Before Fa’ell could do more, Domadred reached up and grabbed the taut whip in his fist, wrapping it around his own forearm. “I really must insist,” Domadred said firmly, as he drew his sword. “If Kefta has wronged you, he will atone for his actions. But an issue with one of my crew is an issue with me.”

  “I can attest to it,” Aleksi said, walking toward them. “I was there. Kefta slandered her honor and her people. It was unprovoked and unwarranted, which means he broke a Thalassocratic law while at port in Mindra’s Haven.” Kefta shot Aleksi a vicious glare but remained silent.

  “Then, m’lady, I am sure this man owes you penance,” Domadred continued. “Penance which he will pay, but it will happen on the deck of the Illusive Diamond and nowhere else.”

  Fa’ell’s eyes flashed a cold rage, but before she could say anything, a slurred voice spoke behind her.

  “Fa’ell . . . the sailor is a worthless boy,” Nara said, pushing his massive frame up onto his knees. “Leave him for now. We will sort this out on board their ship.”

  “What ship?” Fa’ell shouted, tightening the tension on her whip and pointing an accusing finger at Nara. “And what is this we? I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  Domadred wrapped another cord length of the whip around his arm as Nara continued. “Fa’ell . . . for nearly two years I futilely scoured Terra just to find you. And once I had given up all hope, you show up cursing my name and refusing to listen to my words. Then I had to hunt through this bloodbath of a square just to find you again. I nearly died for you, my lo—”

  Nara cut himself off. A look of pain passed over the Lionman’s face as he stood up on unsteady feet. “I nearly died . . . to repay my debt to you. So please, listen to reason. All you need do is look around; this city has fallen.” Nara removed one of his gauntlets and put a callused hand through his short blond hair. It smudged the paint on his now-pale face. “We must get to safety, and this captain has offered us passage. Drop this pettiness and release them now.”

  “You are a fool, Nara, and you should be a dead fool.” Fa’ell then gave two flourishes of her whip that first untangled Domadred and then Kefta. “But even worse, you still do not know how to speak to a woman.”

  CHAPTER XI

  Due to his wounds, Nara now led the group significantly more slowly as they moved past the statue and through the weaving maze of tents. As the small party continued on to the great outer doors of the city walls, they encountered no soldiers along their way. They did, however, continue to see the horrible aftermath of the invaders’ carnage strewn about them.

  As they came to the large city gates, the light of the Zenith dimmed into artificial dusk and Aleksi looked up at the guard towers high above. Whoever had been stationed there was now nowhere to be seen. Looking out through the open gate, Aleksi saw fire flickering among the docks.

  Suddenly, three sharp peals of a horn cut through the eerie calm of the square. The call was answered by another horn in the pavilion behind them. Instantly, it was followed by the sound of over a hundred people slamming gauntleted fists on breastplates and cheering out in one triumphant voice.

  “A legion of Adhira’s soldiers!” Beck exclaimed in joy. “But how?”

  Aleksi looked up at the guard tower and saw a lone soldier with a horn at his side. The man was gazing down at them from the wall high above, saluting his general. “Up there, Lord,” Aleksi said, pointing.

  Beck looked up and saluted the man before turning back to the square. After a short moment, several rows of men and women in shining mail rounded a corner through the tents. The soldiers marched forward in quickstep and the sound of their boots rang off the flagstones like rhythmic claps of thunder. Armored in full plate mail and helms, they shouted out a guttural “ha!” with each fourth step they made. The booming call reverberated against the city’s high walls as they marched onward.

  “Blessed be the High Arkai Mindra!” Beck said roughly, with emotion. “There is hope yet!”

  As more of the legion rounded the corner, they could see High Priest Trailen Kaftal holding the great banner of Mindra aloft by its large pole. Its glorious Runic stitching shone brightly in the fading light of the Zenith.

  “By the grace of the Guardians . . . ,” Domadred exclaimed.

  As the legion got closer, Adler and Brin broke formation and ran to Beck at full sprint despite their heavy armor. Unaided by Domadred, Beck managed to take several steps forward as they approached. Reaching Beck, both Adler and Brin removed their helm and fell down to their knees, breathless. Eyes locked on the ground, Brin was the first to speak.

  “Forgive me, Father, I—”

  Beck said nothing but placed his fingers under his son’s chin, gently raising the young man’s face to meet his own gaze. Brin looked up and saw tears welling in the eyes of the great general of Adhira.

  “Forgive me, Lord,” Adler said, still kneeling beside Brin. “We tried to find you.”

  “The
re is no need for forgiveness,” Beck answered, wiping his eyes. “Instead, you have my thanks. Both of you, please stand.” Despite the fading light, Beck could see that their armor was badly marred by the blast and ensuing battle. “Tell me what happened out there. How did you escape the explosion?”

  Adler stood. “Lord, we assisted the legion that pushed the Farden men off the platform and the blast was kind to us. The others . . . were not so lucky.”

  Brin stood and looked past Beck’s shoulder to the battle-worn group behind him. “Father, how did you survive?”

  “I was saved by these brave souls,” Beck said, gesturing to Domadred and his companions. “They were agents of Mindra’s divine will, no doubt. They are the only reason I draw breath.”

  Nara glanced at Aleksi with a glimmer of a smile on his pale lips. The delirium of his paints still held his green eyes, but his expression was filled with knowing. Aleksi looked at Nara pleadingly and the large man’s smile grew wider.

  “But how?” Beck continued, looking over the approaching legion of men dressed in perfectly shining mail. “How did you get reinforcements?”

  “High Priest Trailen brought a legion of men through the southwestern gate. I have no idea how he knew, but we were able to rout the enemy away from the temple.” Adler paused. “And then we broke pursuit to find you.”

  “The enemy is still out there?” Beck said, aghast. “They are raiding the city, yet you brought the reinforcements here to find me?”

  “Lord, we found your armor abandoned some ways back . . . We feared you were captured.” Adler dropped his head. “I gave the order for only a small task force to continue searching for you, led by me and Brin, but—”