by Nikolas Rex
“When did this happen?”
“Not but a fortnight past,” Ranasa replied, “They wanted to take Puck hostage to lure you out and take you. They want you sir. I wanted to say something but—my mother, please understand sir, my mother, I am the only one left to protect her!”
“If they wanted me, then why also speak of my daughter and wife?” Marad asked.
“One of them seemed to think Puck would be too much trouble to take and wanted an easier way. After a few days I did not hear or see anything of them and I thought that they gave up and left, or something! Sir, they, they tortured me, almost broke my hand. I—I was afraid.”
“Any man who does not fear what they cannot control is a fool, courage is not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. You must be strong Ranasa, speak on.”
“Everyone in town knows that they left to visit Tristen,” Ranasa tried to be evasive, holding back more tears.
“Yes boy,” Marad replied, “But no one in town knows that Tristen has taken the Shyden Oath. No one knows that my wife and daughter are visiting Tristen at the Shyden Monastery, except for myself, my son, and I already know that Puck has told you. Did you tell them?”
Ranasa looked at the ground, and slowly nodded his head.
Marad released the boy.
Puck, finally finding his voice after all the commotion, “We have to go to the monastery!”
Marad shook his head ‘No’.
“What? of course we do!”
“First we must bring this man back to our home.”
“And the other bodies?”
“Let the town guard find them, they will make of it what they will.”
Puck nodded. If their secret got out, that they wielded magic, then they would have to leave, find somewhere new to start over.
“And then?”
“To Ranasa’s abode, to make sure that his mother is alright, then we will go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Runemagic
A treasure chest stood on a low ornate dark wood table.
The trunk was elaborately ornamented, black in color outlaid in gold. Complex and elaborate but beautiful symbols magically moved across its surface, around and around, slowly but steadily marching in interweaving lines.
The large container and table were completely enclosed in a somewhat large room made completely of wood. The space was furnished with furniture designed for someone’s sleeping quarters, living room, and work area wrapped up all in one. A scattering of equipment as well as food stuffs and other supplies were stacked and roped off in boxes and barrels against one of the wall. A bed stood in one corner, covered with soft furs, the bed was securely fashioned to the wall. The wood floor was covered with heavy cloth and large animal furs lay here and there. A second table stood by the bed. It was covered with large books, scrolls, feather pens and ink and in the center of the table was a large map, everything was somehow secured or fixed to the table.
Bright sunlight filled the room through a long stained-glass window that covered an entire wall.
Two ornate doors led into the room on the wall across from the long window.
For all its grandeur, the room was fairly cramped and small.
Abruptly, a figure opened the two double doors, letting them close behind him.
He was a man who appeared to have lived forty cycles or more, and was just above six heads tall.
The most striking things about his appearance were strange black symbols painted all across his deep caramel sun touched skin. His dark hair was short, standing up. A burgundy headband was tied around his forehead and an equally deep burgundy cape adorned his shoulders, reaching almost past his heels. He was thin in stature, but had clearly defined muscles, very physically fit and healthy. His upper torso was naked, revealing his many black markings, but his legs were covered with dark leather breeches. His dark red leather boots came up to his mid calves.
The man held a glowing blue stone about twice the size of a closed fist, in his palm. A strange rune was etched deep into the small rock’s surface.
The black characters on his skin moved slowly and methodically on his body.
He quickly crossed the room towards the chest. He paused briefly, placing his free hand on the front of the box. All the symbols which had been slowly dancing across its surface swiftly and suddenly raced towards the hand on contact. There was a wooshing sound, then a click, and the chest slowly opened.
The inside was lined in fine black velvet. The center was slightly raised, like a pedestal, and on the small pedestal was a large glowing red rock. It was roughly the size of a human head, but perfectly round. A single symbol slowly floated across its face. Surrounding the large red stone were dozens of rocks similar to the one in the young man’s hand, all with different characters etched into their surfaces. Unlike the larger red rock glowing on the small pedestal the rest of the rocks inside the chest were lifeless, no light emanated from them.
He placed the blue glowing rock carefully with the others. As he withdrew his hand the blue light disappeared. As the rock left his skin his body runes became still.
He spent a time sorting through the rocks. He picked up a few, examining the symbol on each closely, always shaking his head and replacing the stone. Finally he came upon one he wanted. He clutched it tightly and closed his eyes. The stone lit up brightly and the symbol on the stone copied itself onto the skin of the man. He opened his eyes and stared at the symbol. He smiled, satisfied, and carefully pocketed the stone in an inner coat pocket.
He put his hands on the red sphere and closed his eyes as a calming power flowed through him. The characters on his body flared to life, swimming madly over his flesh.
After a brief moment he removed his hands and carefully shut the chest. When he lifted his hands free of the sphere the runes on his body became still. He put a palm on the front of the box, releasing a number of rune marks to run freely across its surface once more, and once finished with the task withdrew his hand and turned around at a knock on the door.
“Enter!”
The man spoke not in the common tongue, but in the smooth and fluid speech of The Isles, of Kiohopi.
The two doors opened and a man bowed in the entryway and called the other by his name and title.
“Hail, Demar, Runemaster!”
The man was his trusted advisor and keeper. He was dressed in a suit of dark leather armor with shiny silver shoulder plates, forearm and shin guards. His uniform underneath was a light cloth of deep burgundy.
“Thantor, you know you may speak freely with me, what is it?”
“The commotion among the sailors is getting worse,” Thantor replied, “The men are tired after so long upon the waters.”
Demar shook his head, “We have been gone a long time, it is true, but we are almost at our destination. I will quickly nullify this squabble. Gather everyone on deck, even the cook and his staff! I will show them a grand display of the power of the runes. Wind like they have never before seen! Return to me when all have been assembled!”
“Your will shall be accomplished,” Thantor replied and disappeared, shutting the doors behind him.
The Runemaster looked at the symbol he had taken from the rock that was on his palm. He focused on it, memorizing it. He imagined the strokes that went into creating the symbol upon it. He practiced them a few times in the air. A faint light followed his strokes. One. Two. Three, four, five. Six. Seven. Seven strokes in all. He did them over and over again, the light following the trail of his fingers. He did them faster, faster! The afterimage of light became a blinding force in the room.
Sweat began to break out all over the man’s skin, dripping down his face.
After over a hundred repetitions and drenched in sweat, he was satisfied.
He walked over to the table and took a vessel of water and poured it into a cup. He drained the cup thirstily. Runemagic was always so draining, even after all his cycles practicing it.
His thirst quenched, he wip
ed the sweat from his brow and returned to the center of the room. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were filled with determination.
He raised his hand in the air, poised to strike. With a flurry of movements he wrote the seven strokes in the air, and then, he opened his palm, where the symbol now was, and pressed the afterimage before him, activating the magic.
There was a flash of light and power and he knew he had succeeded with the invocation. The symbol on his palm glowed bright. He brought up his hand, experimenting with the energy. He could feel the air, almost as if it were tangible. He clutched at it, pulled it slightly. The papers on his desk fluttered. Demar swept his hand in a quick arch. A number of papers flew from his desk.
He smiled, this would be suitable to put some wind in the ship’s sails.
He whipped his hand around and around, pulling at the air, bending it to his will. All but the map had been blown from the table and now sailed around the room in a whirlwind of papers. He laughed with glee at his power.
A knock came at his door and he let the papers fall as he released the air from his control.
“Thantor?”
“It is I, Runemaster.”
“They are ready?”
“Indeed.”
Demar pulled the door open. There stood Thantor, his trusted advisor, and two of the Runemaster’s personal guards, Kunai and Maloi, his loyal protectors.
Thantor motioned with his hand that the way was clear for Demar to move forward. The Runemaster followed Thantor down the short hall to another set of doors.
They opened the doors, standing on each side of the entrance. Bright sunlight lit up the hallway. Demar smiled at his followers and stepped out onto the ship’s large deck and to the crew which had been called to gather there.
He would fill the sails of the massive ship with wind and hurry them along to their destination, to Kolima.
It was time to get Sesuadra.
***
“Kimira is right, Laura,”
Kaelynn stood inside her tent with her daughter Kimira, and the other girl in her charge, Laura. Both girls sat before her at a small table, each dressed in their black, green, and gold robes. The rest of the tent was simply furnished. It was neat and orderly. Besides the table there were three wooden chairs, one of which was padded. Three beds stood in a line at the far end of the tent. There was a large dark wood wardrobe filled with clothes, by the beds, dividing the sleeping space from the rest of the tent. A number of thick animal furs were laid out across the dirt floor. Carefully stacked barrels and a few wood crates lined the other wall of the tent next to a wooden chest.
Kaelynn had kind lips that could be stern when she needed them to be. The many wrinkles in her face spoke wisdom of their own. Her long dark brown hair streaked with gray was braided away from her face.
The old woman reached over and hugged the two girls close.
“Laura,” She spoke softly, gently, “I know this past cycle has been difficult.”
She looked Laura in the eyes. She saw the young innocent girl she had known before her father’s death, but she also saw a struggle there that came with having to grow up all at once, of learning things that are hard to accept.
“I would not have told you the truth if I did not think you were ready, or responsible enough to deal with it.”
“Nana,” Laura said, hugging the old woman and looking into her eyes again, “you do not know how hard it is. This magic, I have to use it, I must or I will burst from the seams!”
Whenever Kaelynn spoke of that fateful night of her father’s death she felt cold. She was just a child, but she could remember the rain, and the chill it brought, down to the bone. Wrapped in a blanket.
She remembered nothing if not for the rain, and the cold.
“My child, you must not,” Kaelynn brought her voice down to almost a whisper, “You must focus these energies towards the powers of healing. Your father entrusted you to me because he thought you would be safe growing up here with us.”
“But you do not understand, I cannot just change the power in me to use it for healing, it does not work that way. I have tried, every day I try and try until I feel I am absolutely going to come apart without practicing the magic the way it wants to be used. I cannot explain it.”
Kaelynn sighed and stood back up. She returned to her chair.
“Moving grass dolls around without your hands is one thing,” Her voice took a more serious tone, “but using your magic to move people, I cannot allow it.”
“That was not me,” Laura said.
“It had to be!” Kimira finally spoke up, “He appeared out of nowhere!”
“It was not me!” Laura insisted, “He was the boy from my dream, I do not know how he came to us.”
Kaelynn raised both of her hands for silence and the two girls quickly complied.
“He appeared to the both of you?”
The two girls nodded.
“Not just a dream, not just a conjuration of an image in your head,” she continued, glancing at Laura, “He actually appeared to both of you, in the flesh. And you say he said his name was Marcus?”
Laura nodded.
“I did not hear him say it to be so,” Kimira added.
“That is because he spoke softly so as you could not have heard,” Laura defended.
“Well, even if what she says is true” Kimira said, turning to her mother, “We do not know if he really is like us, or just appeared so. And if it was the Exalted Spirits, they can take many forms.”
Kaelynn nodded, the sternness was gone from her demeanor. She was imagining the image the girls were describing.
“So it is child, so it is. If it were truly the Exalted— All these cycles I have spent dedicated to the Order of the Leaf, to the healing arts, in service to the Exalted, but never did I think that my own daughter would be graced with such a vision, and Laura as well.”
Both girls nodded. Kaelynn reached over to the table and took a glass and a pitcher of dark smooth liquid, orange and creamy. She poured some and took a delicate sip.
“And you say he had a strange way about him, the way he spoke?”
Kimira nodded.
“Not strange,” Laura replied defending the stranger, “There did seem to be something different about him, but not in a dark way, he was bright, and beautiful.”
Kimira elbowed her gently and Laura glared in return. Kaelynn did not notice as she drank from her cup.
“I do not know if this thing is because of your father,” Kaelynn said, “but I have a feeling it does. It is of the Exalted, it is without a doubt. This is a grand thing of great importance, it is to be contemplated with much prayer and fasting.”
“Should we tell the Circle?” Kimira asked.
“No!” Kaelynn said, too quickly.
“But mother, the Circle must know of such a vision!” Kimira said, an almost horrified look crossed the girl’s face. She could not believe that her Mother would want to hide anything from rest of the Order.
Kaelynn regretted the quickness of her tongue and calmed herself. She went around the table and put her hands lovingly on each of the girls’ shoulders.
“I do not mean that we shall hide truth from the Circle,” She finally replied, “I only mean that it behooves us to understand this Sending with more clarity before we address any of the other Doyennes, or anyone for that matter.”
She patted her daughter lovingly on the neck and gave her a kiss.
“Of course, mother,” Kimira replied.
“Besides,” She continued, “You say the boy vanished without really saying much of anything. It must mean his message is not completed, he must appear again to finish it.”
They nodded in agreement.
“May the Exalted bless me with his visit too, when that time comes, then,” She looked up at the top of the tent, though her eyes were looking far away, as if piercing the heavens themselves.
She returned her attention to
the two girls, searching their eyes lovingly, hopefully.
They looked back, both shrugging.
“What was it that he said again?” She asked.
“He said that others had seen him in a dream as well, but he did not seem to know who the Exalted were.”
“It is strange,” Kaelynn said, “strange and wonderful.”
She looked both girls in the eyes, “I am proud of you both. I have a feeling a great destiny lies ahead for you two, and that this boy will play a great part in it.”
She paused.
“As for other matters,” she continued, “Doyenne Carlata informed me today that she desired that Laura accompany her on her special assignment to Sulendald,”
“What?” Kimira and Laura said in unison.
“But she already has plenty of Aides under her care to choose from,” Laura began to protest.
It was not strange for a Doyenne to ask for other Doyenne’s Aides to shadow them, it was always a good opportunity to learn new things from a different mentor, but it was usually only the best performing students who got picked for such things. Kimira was the ready one. Everyone knew she was going to be the first Aide to become an Adept at so young an age.
“Why was I not chosen?” Kimira said at the same time.
“I cannot say as to why she chose Laura,” Kaelynn lifted up her hands defensively, “I can only say that Carlata has already received the Circle’s approval, there is nothing I can say more on the matter.”
“But what about me?” Kimira protested, “I have been receiving top marks for cycles at a chance on shadowing during an assignment.”
“Be calm, my child,” Kaelynn said, “I am also participating in the assignment, and I will have you shadow me, of course.”
Kimira smiled excitedly and hugged Kaelynn tightly, “Thank you mother!”
“Now go wash up you two, our company leaves early tomorrow morning, the rest of the Order will continue its business here until our return.”
Laura nodded, but her mind was already off somewhere else, imagining the boy.
