by Frank Morin
“You’ve spent weeks here.” She gestured at the mansion around them. “Have you really seen justification for that hatred?”
“Eirene and Tomas are at this very moment in Thailand transferring the soul of the king into the body of a relative. They’re sacrificing one soul to the greed of another. Yes, there is plenty of justification, Sarah. You just refuse to see it.”
Sarah was not about to get into yet another argument with Alter about the right or wrong aspects of what the facetakers did. She felt uncomfortable with some of their work, but they were good people. She had decided to keep an open mind until she understood more. She wouldn’t risk her relationship with Tomas over her misgivings. Not yet.
“What was your mother’s name?” she asked instead.
“Nava.”
“That’s lovely.”
“It means beautiful in Hebrew.”
“I bet she was.”
He nodded. “She died with great honor. On one of my first missions, we were taking down an unusually sophisticated kashaph cell in South Africa, led by a well-trained enchanter. They were attempting to subvert efforts to end apartheid, with plans to assassinate Nelson Mandela.”
“During the assault, the enchanter rushed my squad, carrying a large explosive device. He had activated a protective rune web that deflected our bullets. If he’d reached us and detonated the device, he would have killed us all.”
Sara listened, horrified and fascinated at the same time. She imagined young Alter facing imminent death, but wanted to ask more about the rune web. Zhu, the enchanter working for Mai Luan, had used a very sophisticated rune web in Suntara and nearly killed Tomas. She knew too little about them.
“My mother intercepted him,” Alter continued. “Tackled him right out a window.”
“But I thought he was protected by a rune web?” Sarah asked.
“Webs are powerful, but very specific,” Alter said. “That one had been designed to block our weapons, probably keyed against fast-moving objects like bullets. He hadn’t included the modifiers to stop someone from pushing him.”
“You’re going to have to teach me more about those.”
“We’ll get to it,” he promised, then sighed. “He pulled her out a window with him. They both died in the blast.”
“That’s terrible.”
“She saved me and seven other hunters,” Alter said. “And killed a powerful enchanter. We consider such a death a great honor.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes as Sarah considered his words. Alter ate slowly, eyes downcast, his expression thoughtful.
The main courses were served, and they included traditional Hebrew dishes as well as some American favorites. The mouth-watering aromas of fresh challah bread, slow-cooked brisket, and flaky borekas mingled with the familiar smells of lasagna and mashed potatoes.
The wonderful feast helped ease the solemn air, and Sarah dug in eagerly. One of the best side-effects of her heavy training routine was that she could eat just about anything without worrying about her waistline.
After sating her immediate hunger, Sarah broached the main subject. “Alter, you promised to tell me about rune warriors.”
He took a long drink before speaking. “They’re rare. We haven’t had a confirmed rune warrior since Vlad the Impaler in the mid-fifteenth century.”
“Hold on,” Sarah interrupted. “Vlad? The original vampire?”
“He wasn’t really,” Alter said. “Bram Stoker dug up shadows of truth that we’d thought eradicated.”
“Can runes turn someone into a vampire?” Sarah asked, not quite sure she wanted to know the answer.
Gregorios’ voice boomed through the dining hall. “You bet they can. It’s messy, though.”
He strode into the room, followed by his daughters. The three were dressed very well, as if for an evening out on the town. Sarah rose to hug Francesca and Harriett.
“I thought you were going to a show tonight?” Alter asked, not hiding his disappointment at seeing them.
Gregorios dropped into a chair beside Alter and dragged the brisket close. He didn’t bother waiting for the servers who were scrambling to bring new place settings, but pilfered Alter’s dessert fork and started in on the meat, eating right out of the pot.
Francesca rolled her eyes at him as she settled gracefully into a chair beside Sarah. Harriett paused to lean over the table, eyes closed, breathing deep the aromas, a little smile on her face.
Francesca gave Alter a wink. “Dad had some last-minute delays.”
“It’s not like we had dates or anything anyway,” Harriett said with a shrug.
“Good thing we got delayed,” Gregorios said between bites. “This is delicious.”
Alter looked like he was wishing he hadn’t left his guns in his rooms.
“We’re not interrupting, are we?” Francesca asked. “You two look pretty cozy together in here.”
“This is a working dinner,” Sarah explained quickly. “Alter’s telling me about rune warriors.”
Gregorios grunted, wiping his face with Alter’s napkin. “Haven’t had a good rune warrior since little Joan was executed.”
“Vlad Dracula post-dated Joan by thirty years,” Alter said, looking happy to find an excuse to argue.
Gregorios made a dismissive gesture. “He was broken. Don’t consider him a good one.”
“I still don’t really know what rune warriors are,” Sarah said. “So I don’t understand the references.”
“You mentioned Vlad before even telling her the basics?” Harriett asked. “Not a good recipe for success.”
Gregorios clapped Alter on the shoulder. “Good for you, boy. Finally working on that sense of the dramatic.”
Alter glared, then turned to Sarah. “I was going to start with examples to help clarify the concepts. Rune warriors possess the rarest form of rounon gift. They can use runes the rest of us cannot.”
“How?” She loved the idea of even more runes.
“Their ability is broader,” Alter said.
“I think of it as flexible,” Francesca said. “It’s a good quality to foster.”
“Hunters power our enhancements from our own souls,” Alter continued. “Kashaph steal the power of other souls to fuel theirs, but still need direct access to those sacrificed souls.”
“Except for rune webs,” Gregorios interjected as he speared half a loaf of challah bread that Harriett was reaching for, earning a frown from her.
“How do those work?” Sarah asked. “Zhu made a rune web, but I don’t understand them.”
Harriett said, “Only the most powerful enchanters can make them work. They produce area-wide effects that range widely, from defensive energy shields to attacks directed against other souls, like what Zhu used against Tomas and his team. They’re complex and difficult to maintain.”
“And they still need to be generated by captive souls that have been inscribed with the necessary runes,” Alter said. “So the same basic limitation, just a broader result. And they consume a lot of souls.”
“How are rune warriors different?” Sarah asked.
“They don’t need to inscribe runes on targeted souls to fuel their ciphers,” Francesca said. “Fascinating process.”
“What are ciphers?” Sarah asked.
“They’re runes that are not powered directly by the rounon-gifted soul, nor powered by other souls that have been directly inscribed with runes to leech their power,” Alter explained. “That’s what makes rune warriors so dangerous.”
“Your clan always sees them as a threat,” Gregorios said with a frown. “Just like any weapon or any gift, those powers can be used for good as well as for evil.”
“It is abomination to sacrifice other souls to those ciphers,” Alter retorted. “As bad as when you demons destroy one soul to grant new life to your clients.”
“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Francesca said. “Heka generally destroy the souls they use to power their enhancements, but rune warr
iors can use modifiers to set the percentage of how much energy they drain.”
“It’s the same principle,” Alter retorted.
“Not at all.” Harriett said. “Think of the rune warriors we know about. Vlad, Joan of Arc, Hannibal.”
“Hannibal?” Sarah interrupted. “The guy who invaded Italy?”
She nodded. “David the Builder was another one.”
“Who?” Sarah asked.
“King David the Fourth, of Georgia,” Gregorios said. “One of the greatest military minds ever, and a rune warrior whose power was matched only by his subtle mastery of the skill. His own armies didn’t comprehend what he did to them, but his deft application of ciphers played a key role in his so-called miraculous victories. He was referred to as The Sword of the Messiah.”
Francesca sighed, a far-off look in her eye. “And he was one fine looking man.” She glanced at Alter. “Almost as good looking as you.”
“When did he live?” Sarah asked as Alter flushed.
“About 1100 A.D.,” Francesca said.
“I’ll have to look him up online.”
“I can do one better,” Harriett said. “I’ll have his real history pulled from our archives. It’s a fascinating read.”
“I’d like that.”
“Get the history of Khalid ibn Al-Waleed too,” Francesca said as she served herself a large helping of lasagna. “He was another great rune warrior. His doctored history still inspires people. They called him The Sword of Allah.”
“I never heard of him,” Sarah said.
“Probably because you’re not Muslim.”
“Another sword title.”
“It happens,” Gregorios said. “Rune warriors are rare. Few of them realize their potential, but when they do, the world takes notice.”
“We try to make sure they don’t realize that potential,” Alter said. “They change the face of the world.”
“Sometimes the world needs changing,” Gregorios said. “Have you ever considered that killing them might destabilize things?”
“Hold on,” Sarah interrupted. “Did the hunters kill Joan of Arc?”
“No,” Alter said. “She was executed before our team arrived.”
“I always thought it was the hunters that got her executed,” Gregorios said, giving Alter a thoughtful look.
“We supported her work,” Alter said. “England was the primary sponsor for you demons at the time, and our family had strong ties with the French nobility.”
“They were lying to you,” Gregorios said. “We had several active contracts with members of the French nobility the whole time.”
Before they could start another argument, the door at the far end of the room opened and Bastien entered with Quentin. They waved and joined the group. This time the servers got the new place settings added just as the men seated themselves at the table.
“Good evening,” Quentin said with a warm smile. “I hope this evening’s repast is satisfactory.”
“It’s all delicious,” Sarah said. “You have the best cooks in Rome.”
“I certainly hope so, my dear,” Quentin said. “You deserve nothing but the best.”
Bastien chuckled. “You are smooth, mon ami. And so very right.”
Sarah smiled at Bastien’s pleasant French accent. “We were discussing rune warriors. It’s fascinating.”
“Splendid,” Quentin said as he expertly folded his napkin across his lap. “A topic I know too little about.”
Harriett briefly recounted the earlier discussion then added, “As dad just mentioned, there have been several rune warriors in the past couple thousand years. Most of them powered their ciphers with the willing souls of their own armies.”
“Abomination,” Alter muttered around a mouthful of brisket.
“Not at all,” Harriett replied. “Their men were willing and eager to support their leaders.”
“Had they known the truth, they would have revolted,” Alter said. “Every time we’ve shared the truth of those soul-stealing powers with the common folk, they’ve destroyed the evil ones sucking their lives.”
“You prey upon the superstitions of the commoners,” Francesca said. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Stop arguing for a minute, and you might learn something,” Gregorios urged, placing a restraining hand on Alter’s arm, which made the young hunter look even more eager to fight.
“Say a rune warrior draws only five percent energy from the souls of a lot of people,” Harriett explained. “Those affected barely feel any drain. And yet, spread over an entire army, the cipher produces vast amounts of energy that the rune warrior can use to enhance their troops or protect them, thus saving many of the lives they just tapped. Is that not a worthy cause?”
“No,” Alter rebutted, his jaw set in the stubborn line that Sarah knew so well. “Once a rune warrior starts down that road, what’s to stop them from drawing ever-greater percentages, from turning their people into slaves to fuel their lust for power?”
“What’s to keep hunters from turning their gift on others, as the heka do?” Harriett responded.
“We would never,” Alter declared.
“Because of your honor,” Harriett agreed. “Is it impossible to assume others might have a sense of honor as strong as yours?”
“Vlad the Impaler didn’t,” Alter shot back. “He sacrificed tens of thousands, impaling them to conceal the truth of how they died, their souls drained to fuel his evil ciphers.”
“He was a unique case,” Gregorios said. “Stop focusing on him.”
“He represents the danger inherent in all rune warriors.”
“You’re overlooking the good they can do,” Francesca said. “Vlad was fighting the Ottomans, the most powerful empire of that day. They inundated his little nation with enhanced troops that threatened to sweep over Europe. He alone stood in their way, protecting western Europe.”
“He was a monster,” Alter exclaimed.
“True,” Gregorios said. “That’s what he became, but that’s not how he started. Before he broke, he was a man of honor, intent on establishing balance in the area and in protecting his people.”
“What happened?” Sarah asked, intrigued by the conversation. She’d seen the movie about him, but reality was again proving far more interesting.
“He attempted to use a cipher that was beyond his strength,” Gregorios said. “He built a series of fortifications across his country and included in their construction a number of ciphers that covered the nation in an invisible matrix. It drew a little power from the souls of everyone living there, linking them together in a master cipher of incredible power.
“Abomination,” Alter hissed.
Gregorios ignored the interruption. “Vlad tapped that power, attempting to enhance himself so he could destroy the Ottoman heka threat. It overwhelmed him, unfortunately. No one had attempted anything like it before. If it had worked, it might have produced the first real-life superhero.”
“Instead it produced one of the world’s worst villains,” Alter said. “Proving my point.”
“Not at all,” Gregorios said. “He very nearly succeeded. You’ve known hunters who have attempted to stop powerful kashaph and who have died in the attempt. You call them heroes, like your mother.”
“Never speak of her!” Alter cried, face flushed with anger. “She didn’t cause the deaths of tens of thousands of her own people.”
“Why do we speak of these rune warriors tonight anyway?” Bastien interrupted.
Sarah was grateful he deflected the argument. “Alter’s been studying my genealogy. He thinks maybe my knack with runes is somehow connected with Joan of Arc’s bloodline.”
“She was such a dear,” Harriett said.
“Ridiculous,” Bastien said, making a dismissive gesture. “You are wasting time, Alter.”
“It’s possible,” Alter said. “But her family tree has too many gaps.”
“Does it bother you so much to think Sarah is a mort
al who possesses a mind as beautiful as her face?”
“That’s not the point,” Alter said. “There has to be a reason.”
“You are grasping,” Bastien said. “There has never been a rune warrior from America.”
“It’s possible.”
“Better to focus on important things, like figuring out how John’s memory got twisted to Thermopylae.”
Sarah concealed her disappointment at Bastien dismissing the idea so callously. Then again, had she wanted to believe Alter just because she yearned to find some kind of tangible link to the world of soul powers that she’d fallen into?
The dinner ended a short while later with Alter storming from the room and Gregorios intercepting the waiter bringing in a four-layered chocolate torte. Harriett objected to him dishing out the dessert, which started a light-hearted argument about who should do the honors.
Quentin won.
Before he allowed them to dig in, he motioned to one of the waiters and spoke softly into the man’s ear. The waiter trotted off and Quentin turned to them, his eyes twinkling. “Before dessert, I wish to share a treat.”
Everyone looked as thrilled as children at Christmas, although Gregorios kept eying the cake.
“I love your surprises,” Francesca said. “They’re enough to take a girl’s breath away.”
“I do my best to please,” Quentin replied, making a little bow from his seat.
A white-coated woman entered the room, carrying a small box and a portable projector. Quentin accepted the items with a nod of thanks, and pointed the projector at the nearest wall. “Here is some footage from a recent test firing.”
Harriett said, “We’re not going to get to play with the new toys?”
“Not in my dining room.”
The image projected onto the wall showed a shining steel minigun with three barrels, mounted on a rolling base. Tomas was standing at the trigger.
“I thought Tomas was out of the country,” Sarah said, drinking in the sight of him.
“We filmed this just prior to his departure.”
“And he didn’t invite us?” Gregorios asked, echoing Sarah’s thoughts.
“One of the privileges of being captain,” Quentin said. “He gets to test things out first.”
