Rune Warrior

by Frank Morin

  Sarah appreciated their attempts at levity, but they didn’t help much. She sagged against the bed, too overwhelmed to deal with it.

  Tomas kissed her. At least that felt normal. She stroked the back of his head with her new fingers and twined them into his hair.

  “I guess I’m dating a celebrity,” Tomas said.

  “Are you? Do you even want to?”

  Sarah scanned her new body. She was a little shorter than before, at least five years younger, more petite. Tomas had fallen in love with a top model. This body was pretty, but not the same. She’d fill out as she finished maturing, but she was consumed by a terrible fear that he wouldn’t want her any more.

  Francesca brought over a mirror. Sarah studied her reflection, particularly the critical areas around the edges of her face and jaw. She saw none of the telltale marks that signified a poorly aligned soulmask. Her face looked natural and fit the skull extremely well. Her hair hung past her shoulders, thick and silky straight instead of softly curled.

  “We took some extra effort to make sure you fit right,” Francesca said. “Turned out pretty good, I think.”

  “Thank you.” She was touched by the effort to help her transition smoothly into her second life.

  Tomas took her hands in his again. “I love you, Sarah, no matter what you wear.”

  She had felt the strength of his soul meshed with her own, and perhaps still felt a little of him there with her. She loved him, no matter what suit he wore. Was it too much to ask him for the same commitment?

  “But this was Francesca’s,” Sarah protested.

  “She never looked as good in it as you do.”

  Francesca laughed. “You could only dream of dating me, tough guy.”

  “Neither one of us is in our first life,” Tomas said seriously. “It takes some getting used to, but at least you’re here and we’re together. You’ll be fine and I will always be here for you.”

  She embraced him and let him hold her for a long moment, breathing slow and adjusting to the feel of his powerful arms holding her slender shoulders.

  Francesca wiped a tear with an exaggerated motion. “I’m such a sap. See you later, lovebirds.”

  Chapter One Hundred and Six

  I will not apologize to the hunters for intercepting their team. How could I have known they were targeting that heka cell instead of me after all the times they’ve tried to assassinate me? The outbreak of plague from that heka cell is unfortunate. It interrupts commerce, and the stench of the rotting corpses in London has driven me to my summer home in the Alps. However, the death of so many presents a rare opportunity to increase our holdings. Send Eirene to court to investigate acquisition of additional properties.

  ~ Shahrokh, 1563

  Melek shoved a metal ruler under the cast on his leg to reach the maddening itch. For a moment he sighed with relief, but then the itch moved farther down his leg, beyond his ability to reach. He cursed the shortness of rulers and was tempted to shatter the cast to free himself from the torture. Weeks after his injury, and he was still abed. He hadn’t been so badly injured since he was a foolish teenager. That time, he hadn’t had all of his enhancement runes.

  Melek was beginning to worry. Without his enhancements, he would have died for sure, but he should have healed by now. Few things interrupted the bond of a powerful soul with its enhancements, but severe trauma and emotional turmoil could. He’d seen too much of both in recent weeks.

  A soft knock came at the door, offering a welcome distraction. At his call, Ira entered the room. The hunter looked fit, having already returned to duty like most of the family. Those who survived, anyway.

  “Pardon the interruption,” Ira said. “But a package has arrived from your son.”

  Ira pulled over a wheeled table and deposited a large box onto it. Melek hesitated. He’d heard nothing from Alter in the days since the apocalyptic events of Rome. The surviving members of the team had already returned and filed their reports. It was a miracle any of them had survived. The loss of Reuben weighed him down with constant sorrow.

  It was a shame the rune warrior had died. The world owed that brave young woman a debt of honor. Alter had been right to attempt to free her from Gregorios’ sway.

  The name of his youngest son filled him with conflicting emotions, some of which he was not yet ready to confront. So he cut the tape and opened the box.

  Melek grinned. The book of runes, his family’s most treasured possession. He lifted it reverently from the box, grunting at its weight. The leather-bound volume looked undamaged, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The loss of this treasure had stung as much as the death of so many relatives.

  He leaned back against his pillow, book on his lap, hands atop it, and closed his eyes for a moment of heartfelt prayer.

  “Melek,” Ira said uneasily after a moment. “You should take a look at this.”

  Melek opened his eyes and leaned forward to peer into the box.

  An ornate wooden box had sat under the book of runes. Melek lifted it out and eased open the lid.

  Reuben’s soulmask was inside, nestled in folds of satin.

  “I will be avenged!” Reuben’s helium-high whisper voice sounded shriller than the last time he had returned home dispossessed. His eyes flickered with rainbow lights and his mask quivered in Melek’s grasp when he lifted it.

  “Oh, my son,” Melek breathed. “I am so sorry.”

  The hunters had related the brothers’ failed attack on the Cui Dashi and Reuben’s attempt to harness the forbidden runes. That had been bad enough, but Melek’s heart had bled to hear of Paul corrupting those runes, enslaving Reuben to his will and sending him to commit murder.

  Alter had stopped him, had saved many innocents.

  Alter was Cui Dashi.

  Melek felt as lost as both of his sons were to him. In quiet moments, he wondered how the family had fallen so low.

  Ira lifted a letter from the box and Melek motioned him to read the simple note.

  “Father, I am sorry.”

  Melek leaned back against the pillow, holding the letter to his chest, trying to ignore the aching in his leg.

  Chapter One Hundred and Seven

  Honor and courage amount to less than I thought, at least against a foe enhanced like the Samnites. What has happened to the world when strength of arms and purity of heart matter less than acquiring the best rune?

  ~Quintus Aulius Cerretanus, Roman commander, shortly before his death, Battle of Lautulae, 315 B.C.

  Gregorios looked across the conference room at the gathered council members. He hadn’t slept much in the three days since Paul’s attempt to rise as the king of the world. None of them had.

  Harald, at least, had put his slumber time to good use. He had spent hours in the machine, but had found no evidence of any other memory walkers. Already his mental faculty was sharpening, his soul fragmentation healing.

  He had made his first transfer in decades this morning. He now wore a powerful young Caucasian form with a bodybuilder’s bull neck. He might need to resort to cracking heads again if they had any hope of eventually working themselves back out of the public eye.

  Zuri sat beside him, stunning in an athletic, Nigerian body with short hair and a long neck, accentuated by the dazzling new diamond necklace she wore to celebrate the transfer. She too had spent some time in the machine, and planned to make it part of her regular workout routine.

  Eirene sat to Gregorios’ right, along with their daughters. Bastien’s absence still hurt more than he dared acknowledge. Every time he thought of Paul’s atrocities, he was filled anew with simmering rage. He was going to need it to sustain him.

  “Any word of Spartacus?” he asked.

  Francesca nodded. “He’s surfaced in Hollywood.”

  That almost made Gregorios laugh. They still needed to deal with Spartacus, get those forbidden runes from him, and restore Tomas’ body, but it looked like he was serious about becoming an actor.

  “Keep hi
m there,” he said. “Get an agent from one of our subsidiaries to sign him and keep an eye on him for now.”

  “Will do,” Francesca said.

  “Harald, what’s the status with the media?” Gregorios asked.

  “The initial tumult has died down,” Harald reported. “So they’re moving into serious investigation stage. We’ve deflected numerous inquiries regarding your identities, but you were front and center on the videos. There’s a frenzy to learn everything possible about the Sword of the Deliverer and her heroic companions.”

  “Keep working at it.” One of the few good qualities of news reporters was their hummingbird-short attention spans.

  “We’ve been digging up information about some of the fallen local soldiers,” Harald said. “Highlighting the unsung heroes who died defending their homeland.”

  Zuri looked up from her notes. “The conflict was chaotic, but everything’s recorded these days. There are inquiries along official channels also. They know our connection to events and as usual, bureaucrats are hunting scapegoats.”

  Quentin, who stood in as security spoke, “That’s my fault. In gaining permission for our intervention, and during my inquiry with the Vatican, I had to use those official channels.”

  “There’s no helping it,” Gregorios said. “Keep them running in circles.”

  “We released twenty thousand pages of historical documentation about the theories of superhuman enhancements proposed by academics over the past century, all doctored by Harald’s department,” Zuri said with a wicked grin. “Mind-numbing and completely useless. It’ll give them something to chew on without letting them get anywhere.”

  “We’ve got a lot of interest in Yurak,” Harriett interjected. “There have been several inquiries into our special tactics and battle enhancements.”

  “Push the special equipment angle,” Gregorios said.

  “Already doing it. All our gear is custom-made, but we might land several lucrative contracts out of this.”

  Gregorios considered that. “Not a bad idea for more agencies to have better equipment to deal with heka outbreaks, but that also makes them better equipped to come after us if they decide to.”

  “We have plans to install remote shut-off devices embedded in everything we ship,” she said. “Known only to us, of course.”

  “It’s worth the risk,” Eirene said. “We’re going to have another outbreak. The only question is when.”

  “Are you sure?” Harald asked. “Now that Paul’s gone and his heka team destroyed, maybe things will settle down.”

  “You didn’t see his mother,” Gregorios said. “She’s the ultimate threat we have to neutralize, and she made Paul look like a schoolboy.”

  “At least until he linked those master runes,” Eirene added.

  “She’s out there, the queen mother, and we need to take her down.”

  “We’ve already stopped their plot,” Harald said. “I bet she’ll go to ground.”

  “She might have the master runes,” Gregorios said. “And I didn’t get the feeling she’s scared of anything.”

  “Besides, from the nuggets Paul let slip, it sounded like she has bigger plans, like harvesting our nevron.”

  “Then why didn’t she show up during that showdown with Paul?” Zuri asked. “With her help, we’d have folded for sure.”

  “I don’t know,” Gregorios admitted. “I worry about that. It makes me wonder if Paul’s stunt was just one part of her plan.”

  “You think declaring himself emperor of the world wasn’t his end game?” Francesca asked. “It nearly worked.”

  “I know,” Gregorios said. “But there are some pieces still bothering me. I’m convinced we haven’t seen the last of her, and as we just learned, historical approaches to Cui Dashi problems no longer work. We need to do more while we have a chance.”

  “Speaking of that,” Eirene said. “Where is our rune warrior?”

  “Getting used to her new life,” Francesca said with a smile.

  Chapter One Hundred and Eight

  May it be my privilege to have the happiness of establishing the commonwealth on a firm and secure basis and thus enjoy the reward which I desire, but only if I may be called the author of the best possible government; and bear with me the hope when I end this life that the foundations which I have laid for its future government, will stand firm and stable through all of my lives to come.

  ~Caesar Augustus, the second life of Julius Caesar

  Sarah sat across from Tomas at a table outside a little trattoria in Florence, with excellent views of the Duomo. It was a beautiful, mild day and the midday crowds were thinner than normal.

  She swirled her soft drink and studied her new hands. They might be a little smaller, but they were very nimble. She might try taking up painting. She’d never been very good at it, but now she suspected she might be able to discover a knack for it. She needed to explore all those aspects of her new self and forge a new identity.

  She wasn’t the Sarah she’d always been. That Sarah was dead.

  She’d seen the video.

  Sarah could scarce believe it when she’d watched the footage of herself standing against Paul, momentarily harnessing the power of those three master runes. Seeing it on video drove home just how desperate the situation had been. At the time, she’d been so afraid, so focused on the moment that she hadn’t had time to really think it through.

  She was Sarah, but she was still figuring out what that meant. That unknown element left her feeling constantly nervous, as if her anchor with reality had broken free.

  Tomas took her hand in his, drawing her thoughts back to the present. He was her anchor now. Without him, she wasn’t sure if she could cope. She was glad to know Gregorios and Eirene were safe, and she’d seen Harriett in a beautiful new suit very similar to the new one Francesca had acquired. That had helped ease some of her nightmare memories from that horrible confrontation.

  She’d spoken with Alter only once, but the moment had turned awkward when she’d hugged him. He hadn’t known how to react to her new body, and she wasn’t ready to deal with the questions that lingered in his eyes.

  “How do you like modern day Florence?” Tomas asked, drawing her back to the present.

  “I love it,” she said, grateful for the excuse to leave the difficult questions behind for a while. “No breaking statues or running fights through the streets.”

  “No minotaurs,” he conceded.

  She shuddered. “None of that.”

  “No running across rooftops, though,” Tomas added.

  “I can live without it.” Sarah did love the freedom of leaping impossibly far over buildings, but for now one reality was proving hard enough to handle.

  They rose and ambled slowly toward the great domed cathedral of the Duomo. Up close, it reminded her of the devastation of the Basilica in Rome, something they had hoped to escape with this trip. So they moved past, toward Ponte Vecchio. They spent a couple hours window shopping, just enjoying each other’s company.

  Sarah was still adjusting to the slightly different angle on the world from her shorter stature. The changes were subtle at times, but still significant to her. She startled at times to see her new reflection in the mirrored windows. She didn’t feel at home yet, and wondered how long it would take before she did.

  Tomas slid an arm around her waist and she leaned against his shoulder. Would he ever get his body back? Did it matter?

  Tomas drew her to him and she leaned up to kiss him. They lingered over it, despite drawing some looks from other pedestrians. His lips felt the same, as did the feel of his skin on hers. Their shapes might be altered, but she closed her eyes and let the fear go, just enjoying the moment, appreciating the power of a single kiss.

  When they resumed walking hand in hand he asked, “How are you doing?”

  For the first time since being martyred she could honestly say, “I think I’m going to be all right.”

  Author’s Note

&
nbsp; If you enjoyed this book, please consider posting an honest review. Reviews help a book become more visible and make it easier for other readers to discover it. They help more than you know. Thank you for taking the time to help!

  I loved writing this book! It’s big. It’s epic. It’s complex.

  It’s got Spartacus.

  I like history, but I’ve always particularly loved studying Roman history. Rune Warrior allowed me to explore and tweak and twist Roman history in fun and fascinating ways. The more I explore history, the more I realize I’m barely brushing the surface. There are so many amazing stories, and real life is often far more interesting than fiction could ever be.

  Wrapping so much Roman flavor in with this world-spanning, fast-paced adventure was a special treat. I loved exploring the man-out-of-time concept with Spartacus even more than I had with other characters. The story also offered unique ways to explore questions of identity and how we look at ourselves. Are we physical, spiritual, or a combination of the two? So much fun exploring such ideas.

  And the best part is that the story’s not complete. Aeon Champion, the final chapter in the Facetakers, is going to take the conflict to whole new levels and build upon what we did in Memory Hunter and expanded here in Rune Warrior.

  Hold on to your hats, because this story is still accelerating.

  Acknowledgements

  Every book is a major undertaking, and Rune Warrior had its own special challenges.

  Thanks to my family, who continue to rally behind every book I write. Your enthusiasm is inspiring. Jenny’s deft touch as an editor, and her insightful feedback were invaluable. Kate and Kyle as always were as blunt as they were supportive. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Thanks also to Eve Ledesma and Joe Morris for a great beta read and excellent comments. And thanks to my fantastic editor, Joshua Essoe. You never pulled any punches, but you were always fair, and the story shines because of it.