by Jeff Kish
He stands and looks to the shimmering map. “One of these paths leads to my binding chamber, best I can tell, and there’s a chance Luk will take Fire there. If I can beat them to it, I can save her.”
“Ugh, you’re still going after Fire? You’d be loyal to a fire rat if it bit you in the backside,” she fumes. “Or took off your arm. Probably sacrifice yourself to save it from poachers, too.”
Era winces. “That may be accurate.”
As Jem rubs her throbbing head, she asks, “If I bind you, what will happen to me? Do you really think I’ll survive a week?”
“If you back out now, will it be any different?” he coldly asks. “I get what you’re saying, Jem, but it might be best to have me bound. The stronger I am, the safer you’ll be, right?”
“But you’re leaving me once I bind you,” she argues. “We’ve already established that you’re going to chase after your other friends.”
He ponders this and says, “I’ll make you a deal, Jem. My chamber connects straight to Valvoren. If you bind me, I’ll escort you safely there. The military may be on the lookout for you, but, somehow, it seems more likely that you can keep a low profile in a land you know.”
“Valvoren?” Jem whispers.
“I mean, Turk may not even be harbored if you seek after him. What then?”
She curls up, overwhelmed by the impossible choice laid before her. Staying in Alleria is as foolish as binding Era and returning to Valvoren, and it isn’t clear which option gives her the best chance for survival.
“If you need time, we should probably do it while traveling,” he advises. “Luk’s men could truly descend at any moment, assuming he sends more after us.”
“I don’t need time,” she replies. “I know what I want. I… I just want to go home.”
Puzzled, he asks, “Which one is home?”
It grieves her that he would have to ask such a question. “Valvoren,” she bitterly responds.
Cautiously, he asks, “So you’ll still bind me?”
“I’ll accept your deal,” she announces. “I’ll bind you, but you’re not leaving my side until I am safely hidden with plenty of money and resources. Don’t you dare think about running after Di the moment we set foot on Valvoran soil.”
He raises his hand. “I swear on my fake father’s death that I will do no such thing.”
She fails to find amusement. “I’m serious, Era. I’m risking a lot for you! You can’t abandon me.”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure you’d be able to command me to uphold my end of the bargain,” he offers, “but you can trust me, Jem. I won’t abandon you.”
His long-time mentor studies him closely, though she realizes he is actually correct on that, and the thought brings her comfort. “So you were planning to hike the tunnel?” she awkwardly asks, turning her attention to the map. “That will be a lengthy journey.”
“Probably two weeks,” he guesses.
“Then we’ll never beat Luk to the chamber,” she points out. “Geez, is this really how these advanced people used to travel?”
“Funny you mention that,” he says, leading her to the tunnel entrance. “There’s something in here, and it’s sitting on a track.”
She blinks in surprise. “Like a train?”
“A small one, maybe.” Era pulls the light rune from his pocket and illuminates the strange metal contraption, which rests on a single track extending down the middle of the tunnel. The ancient vehicle has a front section with two seats and a control panel. The back is a flat, wooden platform with short benches and leather straps. Each side has a wide extension, seemingly for decoration, and the front has a wide, circular tablet aiming outward, as if pointing the way, yet the side of it is crumbled.
“Looks like a freight bird,” she comments.
“Those hawks with the flat backs?” he asks. “I guess I can see it.”
“So will it turn on?”
He grimaces. “I wonder. It’s pretty old, after all.” He points to the front-facing panel and says, “I was just feeling around on it and did some damage there. It’s really fragile.”
“That’s obelite,” she says. “Go figure, this thing runs on runes.”
“Too bad obelite gets so crumbly,” he comments. He plants a finger on his chin and asks, “Just how did that runoid stay in such great shape?”
Jem snaps her fingers. “That old collector in the woods at Lentien! He made a comment about that while he and Di were arguing. Obelite stays hardened while the rune is active.”
“Oh,” Era says in disappointment, “I think the dean mentioned that as well, but that won’t help us here.”
Her brow furrowed, Jem glances back into the glowing room behind them. “Maybe it will. After all, how is that map still working? It was inactive when we found it, but now it seems solid enough.”
“So, if we can activate it, it will solidify?” he muses. “But we’ll need to figure out how and if we can do that without destroying it in the process.”
Jem snatches the light rune and analyzes the control panel at the front of the transport. “It’s got to be here, right?” she asks.
“It reminds me of Pearl’s sky boat controls,” Era comments.
“How did Pearl turn it on?”
“Heck if I know. She just started hitting buttons and stuff. But I don’t think the control panel was a rune.”
“This isn’t obelite, either,” Jem realizes, and she begins flipping levers and dialing knobs. As she hits a small button on the side, the panel illuminates, and a low hum emanates from within. “Found it!” she boasts. Finding small, emblazoned symbols next to each button, she asks, “Are these supposed to be words?”
“They’re labels,” Era reveals in awe, “and I can read them!”
“You can?”
“This means ‘thrust’, this mean ‘brake’…” He shrugs and says, “Seems I know the language.” His excitement building, he rests his hand on the throttle and asks, “Should we test it out?”
“What if we hit a wall or something?” she asks. “It’s a dark tunnel. My little light rune won’t do us much good.”
“This label here says I can fix that,” he says, flipping a switch. The front panel activates, sending a powerful beam of light ahead. “Good thing I didn’t break that rune all the way through!”
Jem heads to the front and carefully knocks on the broad light rune. “Hard as a rock, now. Nothing like when it crumbled at your touch. Though, yeah, you really did a number on it.”
“Gives it character,” he offers. “What do you say? Want a ride?”
“No,” she says as she shoves him aside and takes his place at the controls. “I want to take it for a ride. What button does what?”
“But I wanted to-”
“I’m not letting a one-armed rune fling me down a tunnel at ludicrous speeds,” she scolds with sincerity. “Now read this stuff to me.”
Era unenthusiastically takes the seat next to her. “Thrust. Brake,” he explains, pointing to each in sequence. “Some of these words… how do I translate them? Balance, I think. Speed… This one is control. Or something.”
“Good enough,” she says, waving him off. “Ready?”
“Just give me a moment to-”
Jem doesn’t wait. She cranks the thrust dial to maximum output, and the effect is immediate as the craft lurches forward with a powerful acceleration. Era falls backward from his seat and rolls along the flatbed in the back, scrambling frantically until he grabs the base of a chair. “JEM!”
“THIS IS AWESOME!” she shrieks, her hair flying in the wind as they race through the tunnel.
“WE LEFT OUR STUFF BEHIND!” Era screams back.
Jem abruptly cranks the dial to zero and hits the knob for braking. The craft lurches to a stop, and Era careens into the back of Jem’s chair, knocking her into the panel. “Hey, watch it!” she cries.
“Oh yeah, totally my fault,” he retorts, massaging his side. “I think one hand is enough to dri
ve this thing better than that.”
Jem glances back at the tunnel entrance, now impossible to see. “Wow. We went far.” She studies the control panel and asks, “How do I go backward?”
Era glances over the cryptic symbols. “I don’t see anything specific to that. Maybe it doesn’t go in reverse?”
“It’s a one-way trip? I doubt that.”
“Hey, it’s not like I’m an expert at this thing,” he argues.
“Then you’ll have to get our stuff,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Hurry up, now.”
“What the-!?” he exclaims, pointing back into the darkness. “It’ll take me a half-hour just to get there!”
“So get moving, already! I’ll play with the toy.”
Era sighs, knowing his time would be better spent walking than arguing. He hops down and begins his trek back. “Just don’t take it any further,” he pleads.
“No promises,” she replies while resting her hand on the dial, anxious to experience the rush of acceleration once again. Era wisely picks up his pace, suddenly worried he may get left behind.
* * *
Sreya paces the exquisite audience chamber of Rohe’s hidden manor. On the verge of hyperventilation, she leans against the wall and struggles to control her breathing.
A knock on the door startles her into standing erect. “Come,” she calls, her voice quavering.
A sleepy-eyed Pearl opens the door just enough to peek inside. “I received your message. You wanted to see me?”
“Get in here!” Sreya cries as she hurries to the door and slams it behind her guest.
Pearl is startled by her conductor’s appearance. “You look awful, Sreya. Have you not slept?”
She stumbles over to Rohe’s lavish chair and sinks into it. “I can’t do this, Pearl.” On the verge of tears, she exclaims, “I can’t replace him! I’m the one who… who killed…”
Pearl grabs Sreya by the shoulders. “Yes, you can! You’re twice the person that shameful drunk was.”
“You never knew him!” she argues. “You chose to see his faults, but inside that exterior was…”
“Several inches of fat.”
“…confidence,” she finishes, annoyed. “He was brimming with wisdom, insight, and love for his people. He was a skilled leader.”
Pearl sighs. “His greatest skill was manipulation. He had you fooled, Sreya. He never saw you as anything but a tool.”
“Because I was his tool!” she cries. “Angal dreamed of creating a nation of equals. A just Valvoren ruled by a people no longer enslaved to an oppressive monarchy.”
Pearl kneels and clasps her hands around Sreya’s. “That dream still lives, Sreya. It lives with you and me, working together. I will be your strength, and you will fulfill Rohe’s ambitions.”
“Seems I stepped in at a bad time,” a voice sounds from the corner. Pearl leaps to her feet and aims a hand at the intruder, but he makes no threatening moves. “Nice to finally meet you, Pearl.”
“Who are you?” she demands.
“A friend of Angal Rohe’s,” he explains, sweeping his black cloak to the side. “My name is Ares.”
“You?” Sreya whispers. “The informant who first told us about Pearl?”
Ares steps into the center of the chamber, his dark eyes fixed on the pair before him. He runs a hand through his straight, black hair and grins from ear to ear. “Correct, Lieutenant Sreya. Shall I congratulate you on your bloody promotion?”
Pearl grits her teeth as she tries to make sense of his sudden appearance. “How did you get in here?”
He ignores Pearl, maintaining his focus on Sreya. “So how did you manage to kill your boss when he had Pearl at his beck and call? A conductor should not easily be struck down.”
“You needn’t tell him anything, Sreya,” Pearl cautions.
“Ah, that’s true,” Ares admits, “though I think I’ve already surmised the circumstances. Seems my friend Angal Rohe didn’t go on the capture mission as I had recommended.” He motions toward Pearl and asks, “I presume the automated defense mechanism activated when he tried to initiate a transfer of control?”
Pearl realizes this is no ordinary informant. “What is it you want?”
“I came to check your status, Pearl. Rohe was supposed to bind you, but now you have a different master than originally intended.” He offers Sreya a smile and says, “Congratulations, Lieutenant. You’ve been given a grand gift.”
“A gift?” Sreya grumbles. “Hardly a gift I wanted.”
“Oh?” Ares asks. “So what is it you want, then?”
The Avalan ponders the question long and hard. “I want what Angal wanted. To see an end to this monarchy. To see power restored to the people.”
“A worthy response,” Ares says, “and, if you haven’t noticed, you now have the power to make the dream an actuality. Exactly as your runic has been trying to tell you.”
Pearl shifts uncomfortably and asks, “What do you know of the other runics?”
“What information do you seek?”
“The whereabouts of the earth shaper,” she says.
The request is an unexpected one. “Do you perhaps know him?”
“Just answer the question.”
Obediently, he replies, “To my knowledge, he remains unbound. I unfortunately lost track of him a few weeks ago.”
“How many runics are there?” Pearl asks, continuing her interrogation.
“Twelve,” Ares says straightforwardly. “Six in each nation.”
“Twelve?” she repeats. “One for each manipulation?”
“Precisely. The air shaper and lightning elementalist are in the service of General Graff.”
“We were aware of that. What of the others in Valvoren?”
“I already mentioned the earth shaper, and the ice elementalist was traveling with him last I saw. Funny enough, runics seem to have a curious affinity for one another,” he says, amused. “The final one is, well, I fear she may be outside your grasp.”
“Ah, playing games, are we?” Pearl surmises. “What compensation do you seek for the location of this runic?”
“I seek the same compensation I did for the location of your first.”
“You seek nothing?” Sreya asks with suspicion. Pearl’s jaw drops, insulted she was sold out for not even a venni.
“I seek a stable Valvoren,” he explains. “I believed in Angal Rohe, as I now believe in you, Sreya. You will lead our nation to places the current monarchy couldn’t hope to take us.” He withdraws a piece of paper and hands it over to the new guild leader. “This runic is enlisted among the ranks of the Valvoren military, hence my concern. I wish you good fortune in retrieving her before the general realizes how close she is. It is distressing enough that he has found two runics for himself.”
As Sreya studies the note, Pearl says, “Thank you, Ares. Will you be staying long?”
“I’m afraid I must retire,” he replies with a bow. “I intend to visit again once I locate the two wayward runics. With any luck, you will soon have four at your command.”
Pearl’s heart flutters at the thought, and she eagerly looks to Sreya. “We should move quickly to secure this next runic.”
“We’ll begin making preparations at once,” she agrees. “Please escort our esteemed guest from the compound.”
“Thank you for your audience,” he says with one last bow of his head. “To the greatness of Sreya and the Smith’s Hammer!”
“To the greatness of Valvoren,” the new guild leader corrects.
“Of course, of course,” he says, and he offers a wave as Pearl leads him from the chamber.
The runic notices the surprise on the guards’ faces when they see Ares emerge, and she again wonders how he so skillfully snuck inside. They exit the compound and enter into the darkness of the night. “Thank you for your visit,” she says. “We look forward to your next report.”
“My, you’ve certainly acclimated to your situation,” he observes. “Dare I
suggest that you seem more enthusiastic about my information than your conductor?”
“Sreya is mourning, so her enthusiasm is naturally subdued,” she says. “I have embraced my role and the mission of the guild, independent of Angal Rohe.”
He responds with nothing more than a smile as he walks away. Pearl turns to head inside, but he calls out, “By the way, it’s a shame what happened to your would-be master. You must have been in shock over what you did.”
She meets him with a cold gaze. “I had no control over myself. There’s little point in feeling guilt over the ordeal.”
“Perhaps,” he says, “but it’s interesting that he died from the encounter. I mean, it seems illogical that runics would be programmed to instantly kill anyone about to harm their master. Seems their first response should be to contain their victims, doesn’t it? To allow for a misunderstanding?”
Pearl’s eyes narrow. “What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he says, waving it off. “Give my best to Sreya. The guild… It’s in good hands.” With that, he heads into the dark forests, disappearing as easily as he had appeared.
A deep satisfaction creeps across Pearl’s face as she heads back inside. “It is now,” she says to herself.
* * *
The wooden sky boat touches down on the landing pad outside the manor. Its Allerian pilot descends to find his boss awaiting their arrival despite the late hour, and he hurries to unlatch the door and step aside. Tema appears through the door, pulling Fire along with her enwrapped plants. Though the captive’s legs are walking, her head is hanging low.
“A successful mission. I would expect nothing less for you,” Luk declares, welcoming back his assassin.
“Only halfway successful,” she admits. “The earth shaper resisted, and our men were left behind.”
“Not ideal, but acceptable given the prize.” He scans Fire, amused as always to watch Tema’s thin branches controlling the movements of her victim. He looks to the back of her neck, finding a small patch strapped to Fire’s shoulder. “Seems you’ve already worked your magic on her.”
