Lighter Days, Darker Nights (Rune Breaker)

by Porter, Landon

  Taylin bit her lip, and then inspiration hit her. “Just find the healing scroll.”

  “I've nothing with that much range.”

  But she wasn't listening. Instead, she had her eyes closed and was concentrating on the link. Ru could teleport to her with a thought and zero casting time thanks to the vast and complex magic that bound them together. Since his end was the subservient end, then there had to be...

  The hard, cold feeling in her head that was the link itself shifted. Success.

  Ru appeared amid a puff of displaced air. A pool of his thick, dark blood came with him such that he remained in a spreading pool of it on arrival.

  “How did—“ Brin started, but Taylin waved her off.

  Had he been a mortal man, the Rune Breaker would have been long dead. His right arm was flayed to the bone, as were his ribs and hip on the same side. His left was missing the last and ring fingers. His left cheek was open to the jawbone and where his missing eye should have been was merely a cascade of slow spilling blood.

  Shockingly, he wasn't even unconscious, only incoherent.

  “C-cannot... find.” He muttered. “Must... f-follow. Retrieve.”

  Before any of the companions could tend to him, he sat up. The blood moved with him in long, sticky strings that were now clearly moving back into him instead of out. “A-all c-c-costs.” He bowed forward and a hump began to form on his back. Beneath his robe and skin, it writhed as muscles and bones struggled to reconfigure, and before long, a pair of membranous wings began to unfold.

  “The order must... must be c-carried out.” He went to stand, only to be pushed back down by Taylin. Though he struggled, his strength was nothing compared to hers even in ideal health. With one eye gone and one disturbingly blank, he nonetheless stared at her, face twisting with the pain. Even so, his voice was calm, without emotion: the link was speaking through him. “Mu-st...”

  Staring down at him, Taylin felt her stomach churn. She had seen the link force him to act, seen it punish him, but she was only just seeing the true extent of the horror of the thing: though he was incoherent from pain, though his body was destroyed beyond function, it would not let him go. It drove him to carry out the mission given by his master until it was physically and metaphysically impossible and not a second sooner.

  “No.” She said quickly, “No you don't. Stop now. That's an order.”

  “C-conflict.” He said, now staring up into the stars. “Original t-takes...” A laborious breath racked him. “Priori-ty.”

  Taylin sat back, confused, but didn't have too long to ponder, as the moment she stopped holding him down, Ru began to rise anew. She lunged at him and bore him back to the ground again, restraining his arms and looking directly down at his face.

  So recently his eyes had held little for anything but contempt, smugness and constrained rage. Now there was naught but emptiness in his one golden eye and it was more disconcerting than anything he had done intentionally. Taylin tried to look away, but when she did, her gaze landed on Issacor's body and she found the sick feeling at her core threatening to overcome her.

  “Someone do something!” She screamed at her companions. “I don't know any magic and... and I can't just hold him like this forever.”

  “I'm searching.” Said Kaiel, opening and closing drawers of scrolls. “I used up most of my healing scrolls before I met the caravan. I was going to restock before we left.”

  Brin crouched down on the other side of Ru. “Reflair can't stop healing me halfway. But what's he talking about? What order?”

  Taylin tossed her head. “Later, Brin. “

  “It's just that it sounds familiar. 'Original takes priority'? It's like what one of a gazetteer tables at the Historical Society displays if you make a mistake choosing which area you want a map of and try to put in a new one.”

  An idea struck Taylin through the haze of near-panic that gripped her and the ever-present pain signals the link blared into her head. Ru may be human, or something close, but the link was just a device, regardless of the fact that it was entirely metaphysical. Like the helms that controlled the ships she lived on the majority of her life. They all had specific rules, instructions and procedures they had to follow and they didn't do anything without reason.

  “What did you do when that happened?”

  “When what happened?” Brin asked, not expecting what she'd just said to be relevant.

  “When the gazetteer table said that.” Taylin wondered what a gazetteer table even was, and resolved to find out when all this was over.

  Brin blinked in confusion, but shrugged it off. “You just had to remember to erase the slate completely clear to make sure it rescinded the original coordinates.”

  Taylin suddenly felt very foolish. Panic and distraction was no excuse. “That's it! Thank you so much Brin!”

  She left the other woman no time to reply before lifting Ru up by his shoulders and forcing herself to look him in the eye. “Ru, ignore my last orders.” There was no mistaking the motion in the link or Ru's suddenly ceasing in his attempts to stand.

  His pupil contracted as the link's coercion ended, leaving only Ru in control. That baleful yellow stare tracked to something above and behind her and the timbre of his voice changed dramatically. “Gloryfall.”

  In the link, a swirl of emotion swept over the pain in the link, resonating with that strange, buried part of her before suddenly being consumed in a flare of more characteristic anger. It only lasted a moment before the pain came surging back and he slumped again, panting.

  When she could think clearly again, Taylin was able to formulate a new understanding of the link. Before, when Ru said that he was able to do things under orders that he wouldn't be able to otherwise, she hadn't truly grasped what that meant.

  But now she had seen both meanings. Her discomfort at the fluttersome part of her when he became a dragon the first time had prevented him from taking that shape again—until she ordered him to do whatever it took to get Motsey back. And then, even when a normal person would at the very least be unable to move, and Ru himself was unable to think, the link still spurred him not only to continue, but to change his shape.

  Which meant...

  “Ru,” It sickened her that it was getting so easy to issue orders to him, but letting him suffer was the greater cruelty. “I order you to heal yourself completely.”

  Once more, the link shifted and Ru stirred under her.

  In too much pain to form coherent thought, much less mentally recreate the necessary pattern, Ru levered himself up, inch by sense-shattering inch until he could reach the ground with his flayed right hand. At first, he tried to draw out the pattern in the dust, but the hard packed grounds would have none of it, so he resorted to his own blood.

  First came a sinuous line that curled over at the top and above it, a single dot: the symbol for vitae. This was enclosed in a circle with lines jutting out at right angles, forming vitae crea. But he wasn't done. A larger circle was drawn with the vitae crea centered on the edge. In the center of the new circle, Ru drew a line and then a second, forming a sharp, downward facing angle. Above this, he placed another dot, forming the symbol dosim, which Taylin had heard him name, but never explain. Lastly came a series of markings she barely recognized as language, along the edge of the larger circle.

  The process was long and clearly taxing, but he never slowed, never paused. Because the link wouldn't allow it. Finally, with a sigh, he laid his palm atop it and with the aide of the link, willed the power to activate into it. Ghostly white light, much the same as what Reflair emitted when she chose to be visible, ignited beneath his bloodied hand.

  Unlike Taylin, his reaction to the healing was subdued; a slow release of breath only, and the shrill of pain being reported to Taylin's mind began to ebb. That was the only proof that he was healed at all, save for most of his blood continuing its slow progression back into his veins.

  But the exertion and prolonged pain had proven too much. Once the l
ink relinquished control, Ru promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Kneeling beside him, Brin looked up at Taylin sympathetically. “Oh my. Taylin, is he...”

  The former slave shook her head. “Asleep. He'll be fine now.”

  “How do you know?” Brin looked between the two. “How do you always know things about him? And why were you giving him orders like that? What is he to you? What is he in general?”

  Taylin sat back, no longer needing to restrain Ru. If she noticed the blood stains on her thoroughly ruined dress, she ignored them. Instead, she looked up at the sky. Through wispy clouds, the stars were out and so were all three moons, though Azelia was minutes from setting. “It's a spell. I can't explain the 'how' better than that. I don't know any spellcraft and I didn't create it. But whatever it is, it links us and forces him to do as I say.”

  “Then why does he act...” Brin paused to consider her words, considering the man was brutally injured and unconscious before her, “the way he does if you can just make him stop?”

  “Because it's wrong.” Taylin said instantly and looked her friend in the eye with conviction. “Maybe you don't understand, living in the time and place you do, but there's nothing worse than being at the beck and call of someone else against your will. Doing that to someone; forcing someone to be like that is... if you lived it you would understand. If you care even a bit about me, you'll never suggest I do that to him, no matter how terrible he can be.”

  Brin looked to the ground, shamefaced. “I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't know."

  They fell silent, the only sound among them being the unhappy groans of Gruwluff as the wolf suffered through the residual muscle spasms left from the poison.

  And then Signateria stood. While the others had been ground down by recent events, she was slowly improving as her body threw off the effects of her own poisoning. “Taylin?”

  “Hmm?” The woman in question had been lost in thought.

  “We need to rouse the clan. Kaiel still can't walk, but you and I can. Grandmother needs to know what happened here...” She looked away, “to say nothing of Raiteria and Bromun.”

  Taylin gasped. “Rai and Bromun! They were at the ball! Grandmother sent them there!”

  “Good, then we can send word easily.” said Signateria.

  “No, you don't understand: the ball was attacked at the same time Layaka came to take the children. They could be in danger, maybe even...” She clamped her mouth shut. That wasn't going to be voiced until it was proven absolutely true. “We need to get back there, quickly."

  She stood away from Ru. “Brin, I'm counting on you to watch Rale and Kaiel.”

  “I could go with you.” Brin offered. “My arm might hurt, but I can still fight.”

  Taylin shook her head. “But Kaiel and Rale can't. They need you.”

  At this assessment, Brin merely nodded, so Taylin turned back to Signateria. “I can get us there quickly. I hope you don't mind being carried.”

  Chapter 15 – Ashes of The Dawn

  Taylin sat down at the edge of the parade grounds outside Daire City known as the Murderyard. King Solgrum had gone to great expense to turn it into a festival ground for a lavish ball, but the demon Immurai's machinations had resulted in the place looking every inch the image its name conjured to mind.

  Once bright and gay tents and pavilions, lit by magical arrays, were either still smoldering or torn mostly free of their moorings to flap in the gentle breeze. Most bore stains from blood, soot, mud or unidentifiable things Taylin would rather not think about.

  “How are we going to find anyone in this?” Signateria asked as Taylin sat her down. The halfling woman had the youthful look of her people, and was greatly the worse for wear with both her homespun shirt and britches spattered with drying blood, caked with dust, and her black hair hanging dirty and loose around her head. The only thing that still shone about her was the silver dice shaped charm: the devotional amulet marking her a priest of Pandemos, the One Dice Rolling.

  Taylin, more than twice the halfling's height easily, managed to look just as small and lost as Signateria as she folded her red wings and scanned about the wreckage.

  There were people moving among the rows; soldiers and battlemagi in Solgrum's livery. Some were escorting hysterical guests toward the city gates, while others picked through the debris for survivors and casualties alike. The latter were being laid out in neat lines where there was clear space.

  “The soldiers seem to be in charge here. We can start with them.” She didn't sound happy at the prospect. Solgrum's army was largely built out of mercenaries from Taunaun and Mindeforme: minotaurs and hailene. Other hailene made her uncomfortable, if not angry, and she'd fought enough minotaurs in her life to be no more at ease around them.

  No sooner did they set foot in the Murderyard, than a minotaur in Solgrum's garish colors emerge from a pavilion. His massive bronze sword was sheathed to his back, and in his arms he carried the limp body of a man.

  Based on his ears and nose, both sharply defined, but not inhuman precisely, Taylin guessed he had been a half elf. From his tattoos, concentric circles with the common patterns for the basic mystical energies, she guessed he had also been a wizard of some sort. His magic had not prevailed him, as evidenced by the claw marks that dug deep into his belly.

  The minotaur had his head bowed over the dead man in reverence before he observed the pair coming up the way to his right. He tossed his head weakly. “Civilians need to leave. You'll be allowed back to claim any you've lost once the dead are sorted and the living made stable.”

  “We want to help.” Taylin said quickly. Not really a lie, as clearly helping with the response to the aftermath would help them find Raiteria and Bromun faster. If the pair still lived, they needed to be informed of the terrible fate that had befallen their only son.

  A moment passed as the minotaur looked them over, and an itchy part of Taylin's mind feared that he might charge them for disobeying. But her fears were unfounded. He merely looked down at the corpse and, apparently deciding that the man deserved to be done with the indignity of being carried as quickly as possible, nodded toward the center of the Murderyard.

  “Come with me. Command will have tasks for you; we won't turn away aide at the moment, not when so many of our number have been sent into the city to prevent a panic.”

  Signateria had to jog to keep up with the two tall folk when they started moving. “Why would the city be in panic? Only this place and the wagons at the Eastern gate were attacked and both of them are outside the walls.”

  “You haven't heard?” asked the minotaur, slowing his pace when he realized that she was near to flat out running.

  “Heard what? Was something inside the city attacked too?” Signa had reason to fear: most of the clan who hadn't gone to the ball went instead to enjoy what the city had to offer. If there had been another attack inside the city, then chances were good that Immurai had been targeting the halflings all along.

  The minotaur let out a short, sorrowful moan. “No.” He sounded as if he wasn't sure if Signa's fear was better or worse. “His Majesty has fallen. The reign of Solgrum is at an end.”

  Both women fell silent for several paces before Taylin spoke. “I'm very sorry, sir. I'm sure he was a good king.” Granted, she'd never heard of a good leader except historical figures as described by Kaiel.

  The minotaur flared his nostrils and snorted. “No you aren't. I've seen you about; you're both with the Clan of the White Willow and their Grandmother and Grandfather thought him rude and a fool. And the chronicler mocked him with a subtlety that's rare for humans.”

  “I didn't mean anything...” Taylin started.

  “Never disagreed.” The minotaur cut her off. “His majesty was rude and he was self-serving. And as far as I can tell his rule was not, in the Novromi fashion, legitimate. But he knew how to treat soldiers; gave us respect, and gave us a place here. A place for our families: the Victory Fields farming enclave
. No matter what he was to you, or to the chronicler, he was a hope that my sons and daughter might grow up in a better way than they'd get scratching dust for food in the desert. With him gone... who knows?”

  Taylin watched scene after scene of horror unfold as they walked. Here, a soldier was helping a human woman walk because her leg had been burned away to still-red coals below the knee. There, a wooden booth had been thrown through its two neighbors, only bits of gore gleaming wetly in the dying fires hinting at the toll.

  “You won't be allowed to stay?” She asked, if only to get her mind off of what she saw. The skeletons she and the others fought couldn't have been responsible for that, could they? Evidence of their handiwork was just as clear: cloth and wood shredded by ghostly weapons or clawed hands, bodies bearing slashes and bite marks, and broken rocks in the shape of bones everywhere.

  The minotaur laughed bitterly. “Who knows? More than a few folk still don't trust a hailene even all these centuries after the War of Ascension. And it still pains more than a few that my kind weren't exterminated in the Age of Tragedies.” His eyes drifted to Signa's amulet. “How appropriate. We all live on but a roll of a die.”

  Taylin tipped her head back and looked at the stars through the smoky haze. They were different from when she would look at them in her rare free moments on the ships. “There's still so much I don't know. I'm sorry. If there was anything I could do to help...”

  “Save your platitudes.” he cut her off. They had arrived on the main thoroughfare, where space had been made for dancing and entertainers. Now it was transformed: part military outpost, part field hospital. Weary looking battlemagi and citizen spellcrafters were joined by conventional healers in tending to the survivors. The healers were performing triage and calling for magic where mundane means couldn't help in time.

  Their guide pointed them toward the site of the observation platform the King had been sitting on when last Taylin saw him. It was crushed to rubble and sodden where fires had been doused. Directly in front of it stood a military style pavilion flying Solgrum's colors. “You want to help? See the commander? He'll put you on a search team unless you're skilled with healing.”