Rune Warrior

by Frank Morin

  “That’s for me to decide,” Paul said. “Did you know those so-called forbidden runes are referred to by these superstitious mortals as the manifestation of the glorious power of the Almighty God?”

  “I did, actually.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No.” He hated admitting Paul might know something he didn’t.

  Paul sauntered closer. “Those runes, when powered by enough lives, grant the same miracles one reads in the scriptures of these fools.”

  “That would be a neat trick,” Gregorios agreed.

  If Paul could activate those runes, throw around a few fake miracles, and coerce the pope into proclaiming him divinely approved, it would offer sufficient justification for some to swear allegiance.

  Some would come to Paul out of fear. Others out of the hopes of acquiring a position of power in his new regime. The rest he would enslave by force. The ones who weren’t sure could use the justification of divine appointment to give in to the new rule with less damage to their consciences.

  Gregorios was surprised the church hadn’t simply destroyed those runes centuries ago. The pope’s shock seemed genuine. He probably hadn’t even known about them.

  Gregorios had known enough popes through the ages. Many of them had aspired to the high office for political gain more than out of religious zealousness. No doubt those who had known about the runes had kept them around in case they needed a handy miracle. It had happened more than once, although the practice had waned in recent centuries.

  The information made Gregorios less interested in granting those runes to Paul than ever. If the runes really did mimic divine powers, he’d love seeing the Cui Dashi covered in boils or other biblical plagues. Fire from heaven might just be the ticket they needed to defeat him.

  “Tell me where the runes are concealed,” Paul said, sounding impatient.

  “If I refuse?” Gregorios asked.

  “Then either you witness your son die before your eyes,” Paul said, gesturing toward Bastien, “Or you sacrifice His Holiness here to the scrying rune I’ll use to find them.”

  Gregorios had never heard of anyone finding much success with scrying runes, particularly when hunting for other runes. Heka tried that trick every generation or so and usually only managed to find a bunch of hunters or enforcers on their doorsteps after the attempt. But, if anyone could make it work, it’d be Paul and his supercharged rune.

  Even though divine power did exist, Gregorios wasn’t religious. Faith and nevra core were incompatible forces. Besides, he’d known too many leaders of religions to be less than devout. Unfortunately, the current pope was a man he actually respected. Sacrificing the pontiff or even his own son to keep Paul away from those forbidden runes a few minutes longer wasn’t going to change things much.

  He hoped Sarah had gotten his video feed. They needed a counter rune.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  Paul lunged, gripping Gregorios’ face with fingers stronger than industrial vises. “No deals. I command, you obey. Prove to me you’re as smart as legend claims and live another minute.”

  Absolute power made Paul an absolute jerk.

  Gregorios tried to say, “Okay,” but only managed an incoherent mumble through Paul’s fingers.

  Paul released his face, that smug smile on his lips again. “I knew I could count on you.”

  Gregorios forced back a wisecrack. “The runes really were on Otto’s tomb. The stone was moved again, though. It now forms the base of the baptistery.”

  Pope Andrew Paul gasped. “You can’t be serious. That’s blasphemy.”

  “Probably more than that,” Gregorios said. He’d leave the ethical and moral ramifications of mixing forbidden runes with religious ordinances up to the Pope.

  Spartacus saluted and headed for the Basilica. The three heka fighters who had made it into the massive building along with him stood in the doorway, waiting for him.

  Then they didn’t.

  The ground exploded under their feet, catapulting the screaming heka into the plaza. The two statue guards stepped into the entryway in time to catch more explosive rounds in the chest. Multiple blasts rocked them back, so fast they had to be fired from a repeating mortar.

  Eirene stepped into the doorway, a smoking automatic grenade launcher in her hands. Her hair had come out of the braid she usually wore into battle and a stray lock floated around the face he’d loved for two thousand years.

  She was gorgeous.

  Eirene shouted, “Spartacus, you owe me a final duel.”

  Gregorios waved. “Hi, Honey! You’re late.”

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  The Almighty fought by our side, and the power of his spirit was manifest through the strength of my ciphers. My men fought like lions and shed mortal injuries. Truly, we have been blessed above all measure.

  ~Joan of Arc, Rune Warrior

  Sarah stood on the east side of St. Peter’s Square, at the end of the Via della Conciliazione, surrounded by enhanced fighters. Despite the firepower all around, she felt vulnerable, and struggled to look confident instead of terrified.

  She finished inscribing a battle cipher onto a piece of rubble and handed it to a waiting soldier. She glanced through the shimmering barrier of Paul’s shield and focused on her anger at Paul for wrecking such a beautiful place. It helped a little to drive back the fear.

  Eirene spoke calmly into her earpiece. “I’m in position. Make your move.”

  Sarah silently wished Eirene success. The memory of Spartacus driving his spear into her chest in the memoryscape passed through Sarah’s mind. If they messed up here, there’d be no quick healing option.

  “Alter, begin your assault,” Sarah said. “I’ll have the ciphers in position before your attack. I’m hoping they’ll weaken Paul the moment you strike.”

  She didn’t dare explain to him that she planned to redirect the power that she stole from Paul to strengthen Alter instead. She needed him focused, not spouting about abomination. Besides, even if Alter accepted the need for the siphoned power, no doubt Reuben would not.

  She glanced to her right where Alter moved into the northern colonnade, flanked by hunters and two dozen volunteers from the Tenth. Reuben and the hunters had approached their lines a moment ago, for once willing to work together. Knowledge of the full scope of what she planned could easily break the new-forged alliance, and Sarah couldn’t allow that.

  If they all survived the day, Reuben could get as indignant as he pleased. That would give her the excuse to beat him to a pulp.

  Sarah turned to the four Yurak fighters holding the ciphers she had just completed. “Get to your places.”

  The first cipher held the standard counter rune, which she hoped would help block some of Paul’s connection to the master runes. The second cipher was built upon a rune of confusion, the third around a rune of weakness, radiating strength away from the soul, and the fourth included modifiers to focus and magnify the effects of the others.

  As they scattered to positions around the square, Alter’s voice spoke into her earpiece. “Are you sure this’ll work?”

  “You saw how complex his rune is,” Sarah said. “Of course I’m not sure, but it’s the best shot we’ve got.”

  “I trust you,” he said.

  Sarah silently cursed him. If things went badly, which was likely, and he got hurt, she’d never forgive herself. She silently wished Tomas and his team would arrive.

  “Eirene, we’re commencing our attack,” she announced.

  “Good luck,” Eirene whispered. “Who said there were no arenas left?”

  Sarah swallowed a lump in her throat as she peered through the shimmering shield at Eirene descending the steps toward Spartacus.

  Most gladiators only gained glory and honor by dying.

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Rome has fallen! Hallelujah! The seat of the demon council may be at Constantinople today, but I rejoice to see their historical s
tronghold humbled. So far, our raiders find no evidence of facetaker presence in the city, but I led the cleansing of the temple of Quirinus and oversaw the execution of five kashaph priests.

  ~ Raanan, hunter adviser to Genseric, king of the Vandals, sacking of Rome, 455 A.D.

  Spartacus dropped his rifle and drew his gladius as Eirene descended the steps. She was tempted to pump fifty rounds of high explosives into his leather kilt, but they needed the distraction of the duel. Besides, if she could get her hands on him, she could remove him from Tomas’ battle suit.

  “You are my most-honored enemy,” Spartacus said with a little bow of respect. “And yet on this day, I would that I did not need to shed your blood. You are one of the few who know my day and can understand me. It is a shame you must die.”

  “Don’t get sentimental on me,” Eirene said, surprised by a feeling of compassion for the man she had hated for almost two thousand years. “And don’t fool yourself. You’ve never killed me before, and today I’m not feeling generous.”

  Spartacus lifted his arms and spun a slow circle. “To honor our singular and glorious rivalry, we meet in final combat. This arena is a worthy venue.”

  “They say saints and martyrs are buried around here,” Eirene said, dropping her gun and producing her own gladius. “I suppose they won’t mind if a villain dies here too.”

  Spartacus grinned and saluted. “Honor and glory to the victor.”

  Eirene saluted. “Honor and glory.”

  The two closed with a rush, gladius blades ringing through the ruined plaza.

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  Yes, Constantinople fell. The Sultan’s enhanced Janissaries finally won through. I confess that to survive, I revealed my rounon gift to the Cretans with whom I defended the last tower. Desperation is wed to deed, and they accepted enhancements that enabled us to hold. Mehmet recognized the price in blood required to remove us and instead granted us free passage. He believed I was kashaph and even offered employment. Had I accepted, I might have won access to his enchanters, but at what cost to my soul?

  ~ Maor, hunter mercenary, 1453

  Alter peered between columns of the northern colonnade, not far from the kashaph positions. Piles of rubble separated the groups, offering excellent cover. The kashaph weren’t even posting guards, but were focused on the duel in the square.

  They were positioned just outside of the shield dome. The web that had protected them with near-invincibility had been destroyed by Tomas, leaving them vulnerable. They did not seem to care, content to trust in their leader’s invincible prowess to keep them safe.

  He was happy to educate them.

  Alter raised his assault rifle and triggered the M203 grenade launcher under the barrel. He spoke softly into his throat mike. “Fire.”

  The grenade made its characteristic whumping sound as it fired out the tube under his rifle barrel. The shot went slightly high, exploding against a broken pillar just behind a kashaph’s head. The explosion still ripped him apart and sent his companions tumbling.

  “That one’s for my father,” Alter whispered as he rushed forward.

  Hunters and soldiers from the Tenth opened fire with grenades, hollow-point rounds, and electro-shock bullets, covering his advance. The withering fire cut down all the exposed kashaph in a matter of seconds.

  Alter leaped through the drifting smoke of the detonations and fired a full-auto burst into the torso of a kashaph who stumbled out from behind a column right in front of him. The fighter went down, a bloody mess. Alter verified he wasn’t wearing a soul pack with dispossessed souls to fuel his runes.

  As soldiers moved through the wreckage, engaging the remaining kashaph, Alter shifted to the innermost row of columns, right on the edge of the shimmering dome shield, and peeked inside. Reuben dropped to one knee beside him.

  Their quarrel was far from resolved, but Alter exulted in this chance to fight at his brother’s side, something he had dreamed of all his life, but despaired of ever experiencing. No matter what came next, he offered a prayer of thanks that they shared this moment, fighting the enemies of righteousness together.

  As expected, the attack had drawn Paul’s attention from Eirene’s duel. Alter no longer felt the tug of conflicting loyalties as he wished his great-grandmother good fortune in removing the ancient kashaph’s soulmask.

  Paul gestured toward the opening, and a dozen statues, now his stone guard, lumbered toward the fighting.

  “Ready brother?” Reuben asked with a laugh as he hefted a bulky MK19 automatic grenade launcher and propped it into position on its tripod legs.

  Alter popped open a box of ammo positioned by another hunter and fed the belt of high explosive rounds into the chamber. “Locked and loaded.”

  Reuben opened fire. At fifty feet, the approaching statues were hard to miss. Three other grenade launchers flanking their position opened fire at almost the same time, raining explosive destruction upon the ancient marble statues. The painstakingly-carved likenesses of holy men shattered under the punishing barrage.

  Four statues made it all the way to the gap in the shield. Reuben took one out with a round that exploded so close to them that the backblast knocked Alter off his feet. The other three pushed into the colonnade and descended upon the hunters and soldiers of the Tenth with brutal savagery.

  Alter longed to leap upon a statue’s back and blow its head off, but had to trust his men to do it. Instead, he raced into the square.

  Inside the shield, he could feel Paul’s power filling the enclosed space, thrumming like a high-voltage wire. The sheer magnitude of it left him trembling.

  He had siphoned three dozen soldiers in the last minutes, dispossessing souls faster with every attempt. Harriett and Francesca reconstituted the souls for him so he didn’t have to slow. His soul felt engorged with energy he’d siphoned from these willing, enhanced soldiers, making him feel invincible.

  Now he felt vulnerable and scared.

  “Sarah, do it now!” he shouted as he raced toward Paul.

  This was their chance, the moment he’d prepared for all his life. He would defeat this abomination who dared declare himself ruler of the world. Even Alter’s family would see his purity after this.

  Reuben ran beside him and made a point of not looking when Alter embraced his nevra core and his hands began to burn with purple fire.

  Paul shot across the square toward them with inhuman speed, ten times faster than Alter could run.

  Reuben shot him in the face. He had left the grenade launcher behind, and now carried a specialty weapon recently developed by Quentin and only reluctantly handed over by Francesca. Instead of bullets, it sprayed sticky foam similar to the suppressant material used by their custom fire trucks.

  Paul skidded to a halt, pawing at the sticky mess. He had stood unaffected through a bombing run, mortar fire, and countless bullets that ricocheted off his enhanced skin, but simple foam stymied him for a few precious seconds.

  Alter leaped, burning hands outstretched.

  The foam melted off Paul’s face and he caught Alter, snatching him out of the air like a dog snapping at a frisbee.

  That was the second time someone had manhandled him that day, and it enraged Alter. He pawed at Paul’s face, but the Cui Dashi’s hands were already burning. His entire torso was rippling with silver light, and the touch of it scattered Alter’s nevron. He tried to concentrate, one finger actually touching a precious soul point on Paul’s hated face.

  Paul laughed and his nevron ripped into Alter, crushing his fledgling soul force with the weight of three master runes.

  Alter screamed and beat at Paul’s hands. No longer did he fight to defeat the Cui Dashi, but scrambled ineffectually to escape the abomination’s grasp.

  Paul could kill him with the twitch of his wrist, but instead he chose to torment him.

  Reuben had retreated from the struggle, dropped his useless foam gun, and drew a grenade. Alter tried to shout at him to stop, but couldn’t make more th
an a choked gurgling sound.

  Their eyes met, and Reuben’s held no regret as he threw the grenade that could never hope to hurt Paul. It would certainly kill Alter. Maybe that was his way of offering a final mercy?

  Alter didn’t appreciate it.

  Paul swatted the grenade out of the air. It tumbled across the square and landed close to Eirene. The blast knocked her from her feet.

  Spartacus glared, then shrugged and rushed past the still-disoriented Eirene into the Basilica.

  As Alter struggled to suck in a little air through his bruised neck, he kept waiting for Sarah’s cipher to strike, but it never did.

  Then she spoke over the comm, her voice worried. “It’s not working! Something’s blocking it.”

  “Has to be the shielding,” Gregorios said, sounding far too calm.

  “I need to get closer,” she shouted.

  Alter despaired. She would never make it in time. He was going to die and the Cui Dashi monster would remain free to enslave Sarah, body and soul. With a snarl of defiance, Alter struggled on. He would not allow that to happen.

  He glanced toward his brother, hoping for help. Reuben had retreated from Paul and drew his knife.

  Paul laughed. “You amuse me, hunter. Do you think to hurt me with that little blade?”

  Reuben tugged up his sleeve and began carving into his forearm. “This blade is stronger than you think.”

  “Prove it.” Paul actually waited, watching Reuben mark a new rune. He eased his hold enough for Alter to breathe a little.

  “Run, brother,” Alter gasped, his voice barely a whisper. No matter how pure Reuben’s soul might be, he couldn’t hope to stand against the sheer might that Paul now commanded.

  “I will not run again,” Reuben snarled.

  Alter recognized the rune he was carving and choked out a protest. “You can’t, brother. It is forbidden.”

  “You embrace abomination in the name of glory,” Reuben spat. “Don’t preach to me.”