Box of Runes An Epic Fantasy Collection

by J. Thorn

  “You summoned me,” Machek said.

  “Yes, there are some things we need to discuss. Citizens question our decisions; they ridicule us. I am sure you have heard some of this.”

  Machek nodded in affirmation.

  “I am not concerned about the reaction of our people. They act like spoiled little children with sickness. They do not understand that the minor discomfort they feel from the treatment will cure a more serious affliction. The subjugated tribes we have emancipated cause me the greatest concern. That is why I called for you, Lord Major. Our spies in these lands have returned with reports of the reaction to the proclamation. At first, the tribes celebrated and rejoiced. Generations of the One World have known the benevolent rule of the People of the Sun. However, other reports filtered back to us. Anger and resentment grew. Freedom was not enough for these people. Calls went out for retaliation and retribution. Machek, I fear as though blood will be shed, and I fear for our people.”

  “Sir, I understand your concern. I assure you that no subjugated tribe can withstand the sheer fighting force of the Jaguar Knights. You have nothing to fear.”

  “I do not doubt your fighting legions, Lord Major. It is true that we have put down every rebellion since the People of the Sun took the throne of the One World. What if these disparate tribes united against us? What if hundreds of thousands of warriors, from all corners of the One World, were to descend on us in a War to the Knife?”

  Machek stood before the chief elder and contemplated the unthinkable. He had no reply.

  Chapter 20

  It took Acatel three days to lift the cloud from his head. His manhood ached more from shame than from the physical attack. Reports stated that the bitch’s daughter had thrown herself into the River of Rokin in an attempt to get to the Region of the Dead. Acatel had no reason to believe she was not successful. Shinta remained bound and gagged in his hut. The blows to his head delayed the continued march to the heart of the People of the Sun. Acatel used this time to await reinforcements and to punish Shinta with his abuse.

  “Sir, there is news spreading throughout the One World. A messenger has arrived and requests your attention,” said the sentry.

  “Send him in,” replied Acatel, nodding at his new subordinate.

  Acatel had plunged a dagger into the throat of the guard who permitted Sianta’s escape. He had witnessed Acatel’s injuries at the hands of two women and could not be trusted with knowledge of the slandering scene.

  “My lord, the Sun God shines upon you and heals you. It is good to see you recovering from your battle wounds,” said the messenger.

  “Yes, a warrior’s battle scars are his Book of History. What news do you bring? I have things that require my attention.” He glanced in Shinta’s direction. Tears flowed from her eyes.

  “Sir, the chief elder of the People of the Sun has issued a proclamation.”

  “How does that concern me? I do not care about the domestic policy of a people that will fall under my blade.”

  “Yes sir, I agree. However, the proclamation did not just address domestic policy. He has released all tribes of the One World from the rule of the People of the Sun.”

  Acatel stood, shifting his feet back and forth.

  “There is more, sir. When the Empire removed the yoke, there was great celebration. However, old resentments run deep. People of the One World call for retribution. They demand compensation for generations of tribute paid. The rhetoric and condemnation of the People of the Sun spreads across the One World like the rays of the Sun God.”

  The messenger saluted Acatel, took a final look at Shinta, and exited the tent. A smile began at the corners of Acatel’s mouth and raced across his entire face. The Book of Horoscopes was spinning the tale in his favor. The Dog People would write the Book of History for all of the One World.

  He removed the gag from Shinta’s mouth.

  “It is a trap,” she said.

  Acatel slapped her bruised face. “I do not take counsel from whores,” he replied. “You speak whatever words you feel may spare your sorry soul.”

  “You are a coward and a worthless liar. Your men will see your true self as you run from the field of battle, scampering like a beaten dog. I spit on you and your people.”

  Acatel drew his dagger, shaking his head back and forth.

  “You will not be able to spit with my flesh in your mouth,” he replied, unbuckling his pants.

  “If you put that piece of rotten garbage in my mouth one more time, I will bite it off and spit it in your face.”

  Acatel felt warmth in his groin. The bitch’s feisty attitude aroused him.

  “It would be the last thing you ever do.”

  “So be it.” Her eyes bore through Acatel’s.

  “Sir, there is another message for you,” came a voice from outside the hut.

  Acatel paused and covered himself. He left his belt and dagger on the floor and walked towards the flap on the hut.

  “It can wait,” he replied.

  “Very well, sir,” came the reply.

  Acatel turned around in time to see Shinta pulling his dagger across her throat. Although she did not speak, Acatel knew she wanted him to witness her final act of defiance.

  Her blood pumped from her gaping neck into the fire, making it sizzle with each beat of her dying heart. She rolled in the dirt as her soul raced beyond the Region of the Dead.

  The guard removed her body and cleaned the hut, but he could not remove the smell of blood and death, a final insult to Shinta’s tormentor.

  “Send in the scribe,” ordered Acatel.

  A scribe appeared before him. The Sun God rose high in the sky. Rations of whiskey dissipated and soldiers tired of playing cards. Acatel thought it would be wise to set the unit in motion once again, but before he did so, he needed to send a message.

  ***

  She gathered fallen branches and laid them over a tree trunk. This would provide basic shelter until the Sun God returned, and would ward off the cold spell of the night. A fire would be too risky, as she did not know the soldiers’ location. On top of the branches, Sianta placed fern leaves. She wove them together and stood, satisfied with her work. It was not her hut, but she felt confident that she would survive the night. The Sun God fell behind the hill, and dampness engulfed Sianta’s wrap. She crawled as far into her structure as possible before sleep pulled at her eyelids as exhaustion took hold. Her eyes fluttered open and closed in a tug of war.

  A sound startled her awake. She was not sure how long she had slept. The Star of the North stood high in the sky but the Light of the Lady had disappeared, bringing her closer to dawn than dusk.

  Sianta heard a soft sobbing under the rush of the Rokin. It would disappear for a moment and then start again with greater volume. Sianta froze from indecision, worried that it could be another member of her tribe who had survived the attack. It could be her mother looking for her after an escape. On the other hand, it could be the warriors trying to draw her out of hiding.

  Sianta looked into the forest. Every tree appeared to be a warrior, every branch an arm holding a sword. Loneliness tore at her soul while the sobbing became louder. If she stayed hidden and they found her, she would perish. If she left her shelter to wander the woods, the spirits of the forest would torment her.

  “My daughter, where are you?” said Shinta.

  Sianta straightened up and held her breath.

  “Sianta, I must speak to you. Please reveal yourself.”

  She sat frozen in time and indecisive. The warriors could be using her mother as bait, in which case, they would both endure great pain.

  “I’m here,” Sianta finally said.

  A glowing face appeared at her feet, the entrance to the shelter. Sianta recognized her mother but sensed a different energy around her.

  “Please come out so we can talk. It is very urgent,” her mother’s form said.

  Sianta sat up and crawled towards the opening of the shelter. She expected a s
word to cleave her neck as soon as it left the safety of the fallen tree trunk, but she stood outside the shelter with all of her limbs and neck intact. The form of her mother wavered before her. An aura surrounded her body, including her feet, which did not touch the ground. Her clothing hung in tatters, much as it had when Sianta fled the hut. Shinta’s tangled hair clung to the sides of her face, and her eyes shone vacant and deep.

  “My love, I must deliver a message to you,” Shinta said.

  “From where? Are you okay?” Sianta asked.

  “I tried to take myself to the Region of the Dead, as I could not bear any more suffering from the beast that bound us. While I spared myself from any more of the abuse, I am doomed to wander these woods until the gods see fit to take me. They do not shine on souls that end their own lives. My penance must be served before I can earn their forgiveness.”

  Sianta began to cry. The weight of the forest came down upon her shoulders.

  “Please, dear, save your grief for later. I do not have much time here, and I need to give you an important message, one that can save the People of the Sun.”

  “I do not care about those people. If it weren’t for them, you would still be with me and our village would still be standing.”

  “But our fate is their fate. That you must accept.”

  Sianta used the back of her hand to fight more tears flowing from her eyes.

  “If nothing else, our conversation is the first step on my journey of eternal redemption.”

  Sianta trembled and then nodded in affirmation.

  “Now listen. The third and final omen has passed. As the prophet has written, so it will be. Great forces are aligning against the People of the Sun. The Dog People will be the first to reach us, but they are recruiting allies along the way. Other dark forces at work conspire against us as well. I have no specifics on these spirits, but I have felt their power and it is fierce.”

  “Then what can I do, mother? If we are doomed, what can I do?”

  “I did not say we were doomed. We will face a challenge in this Fifth Sun like no other, and our fate is yet to be determined. The Book of Horoscopes hands us the future, but the finality of fate is always in our hands. You must play your part, Sianta. It may cost you your life, but it will save your soul. Do you understand what is at stake?”

  The aura around Shinta wavered as if she stood in a mirage at the far end of the Great Waste.

  “My time with you expires.”

  Sianta nodded again without opening her mouth.

  “You must travel through the forest to the capital of the People of the Sun. You must be fleet of foot and arrive before Acatel and his legions of Dog People. Tell the lord major of the Jaguar Knights not to engage the first combatants on their land. Tell him to hold warriors in reserve as the battle with the dark forces will determine the fate of our people. He will need to swallow his pride and not strike at the subjugated tribes if we are to survive the Fifth Sun. Do you understand the message?” Shinta’s form rippled and her last few words sounded as if she spoke them under water. “I love you, Sianta and we will meet again beyond the Region of the Dead. Our souls will forever bond as one.”

  Sianta took a step towards her mother’s form as it disappeared. She heard “one” reverberate through her head and the forest, and she sat and cried. She had not yet seen the Ceremony of the Thirteenth or felt the touch of a boy. How was she supposed to outrun the legions of the Dog People to the capital? How was she supposed to gain an audience with the lord major of the Jaguar Knights and get him to listen to her message? In addition, even if he did, how could she convince him to act on it? These questions and hundreds others raced through Sianta’s grief-stricken mind. The noises in the forest picked up again and she thought it best to get back into her shelter. Sianta had a mission to accomplish. She would not let her mother’s sorrow be in vain. Sianta promised the Spirit that she would gain redemption for her mother’s tainted soul.

  ***

  She opened her eyes to the stabbing rays of the Sun God. He had begun his tireless, eternal journey once again. Her mood quickened with the light of day, and for a moment, Sianta forgot where she was or what she was doing. Reality crushed an innocent glimmer of renewed hope. She was not lying in her cot as her mother prepared the morning fire. From this point on, Sianta was burdened with the weight of her own destiny.

  As she moved closer to what used to be her home, the smell of burning flesh infiltrated her nostrils. Wood and bone crackled on top of glowing embers. The battle had left personal articles strewn across a wide swath of destruction. Pieces of dolls and torn flesh caught Sianta’s tearful eyes. The wood from shattered huts covered the ground, poking into the vulnerable soles of her feet. The closer she got to the remains of the village, the more certain she was that all of the warriors had left. They intended to leave nothing but burning huts and corpses.

  Sianta approached the well first, as it was on the outskirts of the village. She did not need to look down to realize it was spoiled. Bodies spilled out of the top and onto the ground. Sianta struggled as she attempted to rebuild the structures in her mind’s eye. She spotted the remains of her hut and ran to it. The fire continued to lick the edges of the dried skins. Sianta could not move some of the beams that had fallen into her hut, but she managed to pull some of the outer covering away from the flame. Underneath, she found an old dagger, dried blood painted onto its dull blade. In the debris she found a leather flask, a hair band, and a few of her other belongings. Sianta stroked each item, brushing them clean with her tears. She wrapped all of them in a palm leaf in hopes of preserving their conditions. These precious artifacts would accompany her on the journey.

  Chapter 21

  The dark figure stood looming against the wall of the house. The injured woman took short, sharp breaths, often gasping and hacking the air. A jangle of metal broke the silence as Ri dropped the padlock to the ground and entered the room. She walked towards the cot and placed her hand on the woman’s forehead, brushing her hair back as she kissed it.

  “Her condition worsens,” Ri said.

  “Will she make it?” asked the dark figure.

  “We will know by the time the Sun God begins his next journey. I fear her lungs have been crushed beyond the point of repair.”

  The dark figure took steps towards Ri and the cot. “I have some news to share.”

  Ri pulled a stool from under the cot and sat down. The dark figure gathered his robe and sat across from her on the floor.

  “Where is Gishwan?” he asked.

  “Asleep by the surf. The night kept us busy. Her conversion to the Order approaches the final stages, which demand much energy from the body. She will sleep through most of this day.”

  The dark figure nodded.

  “What is your news?” asked Ri.

  “Word spread like fire from the heart of the People of the Sun. The council, under the guidance of the chief elder, issued a proclamation. They fear destruction. The People of the Sun have cut loose all of their conquered lands. At first, the subjugated people rejoiced in the streets. Soon thereafter, generations of anger and resentment flooded the villages and uprisings began. Young warriors from many tribes are organizing. They have begun marching towards the capital. The leaders of the Dog People have destroyed some outlying villages where the forest meets the Great Waste.”

  Ri raised her eyebrows. “What concern is that of ours? We sit leagues from the nearest settlement. The Great Waste spans another world. I have no allegiance to the People of the Sun, the Dog People, or any other tribe, for that matter. The Order needs no allegiance.”

  “The fire that burns in you excites me. This is what we’ve been waiting for. This is our opportunity to recruit and align our forces and take control of the One World. I have more to share. The Serpent King is on his way. He gets closer with each journey of the Sun God.” The dark figure paused, giving Ri time to digest his words. “The tribes once dominated by the People of the Sun will rally behind the S
erpent King. They will join forces and cut a trail of devastation through the heart of the People of the Sun. Our opportunity will rise in that time of chaos and suffering.”

  Ri smiled at the dark figure. “What of the old man? Has he completed his mission?” she asked.

  “The Soothsayer interpreted the omens. The chief elder believes they have occurred as foretold by the prophet of the Second Sun. He has gained the confidence of Machek, the lord major of the Jaguar Knights. The council handed command of the entire army to him and the Soothsayer became his top advisor. The council brought the Soothsayer into their inner sanctum. He attends all meetings.”

  Ri stood up. The woman on the cot came closer to her final destination.

  “I can feel her passing,” said Ri.

  She bent over the woman’s face and opened her eyelids. The woman gasped for breath and her eyes rolled back into her head. Ri touched her face to the woman’s. A spark of red light jumped from the woman’s eyes into her, and she shot up, her back arching straight as her breasts jutted forwards. She stumbled across the floor. The woman’s final breath left her body as she lay still.

  “I almost lost her essence.” Ri’s face flushed white and she stumbled back into the wall of the cottage. Her lungs gasped for air and her muscles ached. “Can we trust the Soothsayer?”

  “For now, his true motives remain hidden from Machek and the others,” replied the dark figure.

  Ri scoffed at the vague response and swaggered past the dark figure. “I must check on Gishwan. Do what you will with that flesh,” said Ri.

  “As if I need your command to do so.”

  He approached the cot and dropped his robe to the floor. Ri quickened her step towards the door. Knowledge of his wicked ways was one thing, but she cared not to witness them.

  ***

  The Sun God observed from his highest point in the sky. Gishwan slept under a tree on the edge of the surf. Birds circled the desolate beach while the salty wind kept them airborne. Clouds chased the Sun God, never quite keeping pace on his journey.