Runic Vengeance (The Runic Series Book 3)

by Clayton Wood

  He flew back to the ship, landing beside Ariana once again. He smiled at her.

  “It's good,” he declared. “We're invisible.” Slim whooped, clapping Kyle on the shoulder.

  “Damn Guts,” he exclaimed. “You saved our butts once, and now you've gone and done it again!” He grinned. “Shoulda called you 'Brains,' eh?”

  “We still have to figure out a way to power it,” Ariana interjected. “I almost ran out of magic again, and that was only a minute or two.”

  “Let me think,” Kyle replied. He tapped his chin with his finger, staring at the cubes in front of him. One cube was hardly enough to maintain the field for very long, and there were no larger cubes available. Once he filled a cube with magic, it would power the rune immediately, so it wasn't like he could make a dozen identical runics and fill them all with magic for use later. They could conserve magic by only using the field when an enemy was spotted, but for that he would need a way to be able to turn the invisibility field on and off, like a light switch. Or a way to store extra magic for the runic, like popping new batteries into a flashlight to keep it going.

  Suddenly he had an idea!

  “I've got it,” he declared, snapping his fingers. A wonderfully giddy sensation came over him. “Slide that cube...” he ordered, pointing to a fresh cube a foot away, “...within an inch of this one.”

  “What you thinking, Guts?” Slim asked.

  “You'll see,” Kyle answered. Slim and Guns lugged the cube next to Kyle's. Kyle streamed magic to the fresh cube for a long moment, pushing as much magic as he could into it. Then he stepped back. “Now, slide the cubes together, so they're touching.” Again, Slim and Guns obeyed.

  A pale blue sphere appeared around the ship.

  “There we are,” Kyle declared, unable to help himself from grinning. “Now pull them apart.” They did so, and the field immediately vanished.

  “What's going on?” Slim asked.

  “I filled the empty cube with magic,” Kyle answered. “When it touched the cube with the rune, magic flowed to it, powering the invisibility field.” He turned to Ariana. “I can fill all of these cubes with magic, and all we have to do is touch the runic to them to activate the invisibility field...and pull the runic away to turn it off.”

  “Wow,” Ariana murmured.

  “We may not have enough magic to power the field 24 hours a day,” Kyle continued, “...but if you stay on lookout, with your eyesight you should be able to spot any possible enemies, and turn on the field before they spot us.”

  “And I'm strong enough to move the cubes,” she reasoned. She stared at Kyle, a smile growing on her lips. “Kyle, that's brilliant!”

  “Damn Guts,” Slim swore, shaking his head. “You're one hell of a Weaver!”

  “No, I'm not a Weaver,” Kyle replied proudly. “I'm a Runic.”

  Chapter 20

  The sun rose slowly above the tree line of the Barren forest, its bright rays lighting on the rocky terrain ahead. Sabin paused to enjoy the sight, seen through one of his Chosen's eyes. Then he focused his attention on the rest of his Chosen, rapidly updating himself on the state of the world.

  Kyle had made it back to the Great Tower after his talk with Ampir. He was with the girl now, getting prepared for bed. Kalibar was in a late-night meeting with the Council. Ampir was still coming for him, flying above the ocean, now nearly at Orja’s shore.

  Sabin sighed inwardly, ignored the searing agony of his flesh, concentrating on the task at hand. He returned his focus to his avatar, still slaving over the shard hovering before its grotesque head. It was nearly complete, the shard. Another hour or two of work remained. There was little else to do now but wait.

  He paused, then reached out to another Chosen trapped in its Void crystal, selecting yet another memory to relive.

  * * *

  Sabin opens his eyes.

  The perfect blackness of his bedroom greets him, all light deflected by the room's magic, per his request. He cannot sleep any other way; the slightest light or sound never fails to wake him.

  He hears a creaking sound close by.

  Sabin freezes, feeling his pulse quicken. The noise had come from just outside his bedroom door, by the sound of it. No one is allowed in his suite, without his consent, not unless there is an emergency. He hears no alarm, no indication that such an emergency is taking place. There shouldn't be...there couldn't be...anyone in his suite.

  There is another creaking sound, as if weight is being shifted on the wooden floorboards beyond the closed door.

  Sabin activates one of the lamps by his bed, setting it to glow almost imperceptibly. Too faint a light for anyone beyond his door to see, but enough for him to make out the outlines of his room. His bedroom, at least, is empty. His heart hammers in his chest, and he contemplates activating his silent alarm, one that would bring a dozen elite guards to his room within less than a minute. He hesitates, knowing that he has powerful defensive wards scattered about his room, many of them well hidden. Some of them he'd made himself.

  Light appears from beyond the bedroom door, faint rays shining through the gaps between the door and the door frame.

  Sabin bolts upright in his bed, immediately streaming magic to the silent alarm, activating it. He activates the half-dozen rings on his fingers, the amulet around his neck, the earring in his left earlobe. The runics flare to life, surrounding him in layer upon layer of form-fitting gravity shields. He levitates up from the bed until his is standing on thin air a foot above it, at the same time willing the door of his magically sealed safe open. His walking cane flies from the safe into his left hand; a runic weapon of extraordinary power, no one but him realizes its true abilities.

  The door bursts open!

  “Stay back!” Sabin cries, squinting against the sudden bright light, holding his staff before him. “By order of the Elder Runic!”

  A shadow appears in the doorway, a man.

  “Guards!” Sabin shouts. He activates the silent alarm again, wondering why his elite guards haven't arrived yet. He watches as the man in the doorway steps forward, makes out a dull, black metallic boot. He follows the boot upward, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light.

  His eyes widen in recognition.

  “Ampir!” he exclaims, lowering his staff. The man in the doorway takes another step forward, and Sabin confirms that it is indeed his fellow Councilman, dressed in his Battle-Runic armor. Sabin frowns, lowering himself until his feet touch the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

  Ampir says nothing, taking another step forward.

  “Wait,” Sabin states, holding up his left hand. “Don't come any closer. I haven't deactivated my wards yet...”

  Ampir strides forward, and then all hell breaks loose. A half-dozen wards activate at once, bursts of white-hot energy slamming into Ampir from all directions. Sabin cries out, shielding his eyes with his forearm. More lights flash as his wards continue to fire loudly, popping and shrieking as they discharge their deadly attacks. He cringes at the ear-splitting sounds, turning his head away and bringing his hands to his ears.

  And then the lights and noises stop.

  Sabin slowly lowers his forearm from his eyes, turning to face the doorway...and sees Ampir standing at the foot of his bed...unharmed.

  “What...” Sabin begins, then lurches forward as his staff is ripped from his hands by an unseen force, flying past Ampir and clattering on the floor. His amulet and his rings slip off, flying forward, all of his runics leaving him of their own accord. Within seconds, he has nothing left but his bedclothes.

  Ampir faces Sabin silently for a long moment, his mirrored visor reflecting Sabin's dumbstruck expression. Then he turns away, back toward the bedroom door.

  “He's yours,” he calls out.

  Suddenly a half-dozen men rush into the bedroom, surrounding Sabin's bed. Elite guards all of them. Sabin stares at them incredulously, unable to speak even as they grab his wrists, yanking him down face-first onto the bed. He feels han
ds on his ankles and legs, feels someone's knee grind into his lower back.

  He howls in pain.

  “Don't move,” he hears a voice growl in his ear. “You move, you die!”

  “Okay, okay!” Sabin exclaims, going limp on the bed. He grits his teeth against the pain in his lower back. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “You know damn well what's going on,” the guard accuses. Sabin feels someone cross his wrists together, then feels something cold and hard slide onto them.

  “Like hell I do,” Sabin retorts. He lifts his head up from the bed, seeing Ampir standing there in the doorway, his back turned. “Ampir!” Sabin shouts. “Ampir, what's happening? Why are they doing this to me?”

  “You,” the guard at his ear growls, grabbing the back of Sabin's head and shoving his face into the mattress, “...are wanted for conspiring to commit murder.” Sabin struggles to breath, his mouth and nose smothered by the thick blankets below.

  “That's not...true!” he gasps. “That's a lie!” He twists his head to the side, stealing a quick breath before the guard forces his face back into the bedding.

  “Shut up,” the guard orders. “Where's the damn patch?”

  Sabin feels something cool and wet on the back of his neck, followed by an immediate, overwhelming urge to sleep. He resists, twisting his head to the side again.

  “Ampir,” he cries out. “Ampir, I didn't do it!”

  And then his eyelids grow impossibly heavy, far too heavy to keep open. He gives in at last, letting the darkness take him.

  * * *

  Thick, dark clouds hung low in the sky, splashes of purple and red painting their underbellies. In the distance, the sun was starting to awaken, rising beyond the tall evergreen trees of the forest to the east.

  The first trees that Kyle had seen in nearly a week.

  A warm breeze blew through his hair as he stood on the battered deck of the Defiance, his hands on the railing at the side of the ship. He looked down, seeing a long pier far below, with many smaller boats docked alongside it. Beyond the docks stood a short stone wall rising up from the water...and beyond that, the sprawling island city called the Shimmering Isle.

  Kyle yawned, still sleepy from being woken up only a half-hour ago by the sounds of the ship docking. He'd come to the starboard side of the ship – that was the right side, he'd learned – to watch as the crew anchored the ship and installed the gangplank, a wide ramp angling down toward the pier below. He'd learned quite a bit about boats from Slim and the other sailors in the three days since the Verhanian warship had attacked. The invisibility field had kept them safe from further harm, and with Kyle and Ariana's help, the ship's two masts had been mostly repaired. Well, mostly Ariana's help. With her limitless endurance and inability to sleep, she had worked around the clock to repair the Defiance. While the deck was still riddled with small holes, and the wood was still charred, the bulk of the damage had been patched over.

  Their help had made them instant celebrities among the sailors, and even Grotes and the Captain treated Kyle and Ariana like heroes. Which in a small way, Kyle supposed they were.

  He smiled, turning to see Ariana standing next to him. She was watching the sunrise with him, her pale skin glowing a faint red like the clouds above her. She noticed him watching her, and smiled back at him, then turned her gaze back at the land before them.

  The Shimmering Isle, a haven for pirates, other criminals, and unscrupulous businessmen. It was quite a beautiful city, filled with two to three story-tall houses of every imaginable color. Beyond these rose a small mountain, with lush forests surrounding its base. It was quite tropical, as was the weather; it was early morning, yet Kyle was already sweating in his light shirt and pants.

  Kyle heard footsteps approaching from behind, and he turned about to see Grotes there. The First Mate nodded at them both.

  “We're almost finished docking,” Grotes informed them. “The Captain and I need to meet with Immigration authorities before we're allowed beyond the city borders.”

  “How long will that take?” Kyle asked.

  “A few hours,” Grotes answered. “The office won't be open for another hour or so. Enough cargo survived to buy citizenship and housing for the crew.” He smiled then – a rare expression on the man. “Thank you, both of you. None of us would be here if it hadn't been for you.”

  Kyle nodded silently at the First Mate, not quite sure what to say. Neither, apparently, did Ariana.

  “You can stay on the ship,” Grotes offered, “...or you can go with some of the crew to the pub for a bit, until we're finished.”

  “Can't we just fly out now?” Kyle asked. He was eager to get going, even though he was dreading reaching the Barren forest, especially after what the Captain had told them about the place.

  “Give me some time to get some things together,” Grotes countered. “You'll need a local map, and supplies.”

  “Okay,” Ariana agreed.

  “Hey Ghost, Guts!” a voice called out. Kyle turned to see Slim and a few other sailors walking up to them. Slim flashed a devilish grin. “You coming to the pub with us? My money's so hot, it's gonna burn my pants right off!”

  “Better do more 'n that,” another sailor cackled.

  “Uh, sure,” Kyle replied, glancing at Ariana, who nodded.

  “I'll meet you two at the pub later then,” Grotes stated. “Did you drain yourselves of magic like I told you to?”

  “Yep,” Kyle confirmed. They'd just done it this morning, filling as many of the big quartz cubes as they could so they could recharge later.

  “Good,” Grotes replied. “That'll make getting through security a lot simpler.” He turned to Slim and the others. “Have fun boys,” he stated. “But don't cause too much trouble. We're gonna be staying a while.”

  “You got it,” Slim promised. “Come on you two,” he added, gesturing for Kyle and Ariana to follow him. “Paradise is just around the corner!”

  Kyle and Ariana exchanged shrugs, and followed Slim and the gang across the deck to the gangplank, a wide ramp angling down toward the pier below. They made their way across the long pier to the shore beyond, where they were met by stern-looking men dressed in thick leather armor. The leather was studded with crystals of various colors, and Kyle sensed magic in them...and in the men themselves. These, he realized, must be guards...and Weavers to boot. Apparently the Shimmering Isle was more accepting toward magic than Verhan. Slim spoke with one of them, and then they were all asked to raise their arms up for a pat-down. Finding no weapons – and no detectable magic in Kyle or Ariana – they were allowed past the security checkpoint and into the city.

  The cobblestone streets of the Shimmering Isle were broad and well-kept, as were the colorful shops that flanked them. Kyle was surprised; for a city so accepting of the criminal element, everything was quite orderly and clean. There were, he noted, guards posted on nearly every block, Weavers just like the ones at the security checkpoint. Their presence made Kyle a little nervous, given that he regenerated his magic so quickly. He wouldn't be able to stay in the city for very long before Ariana would have to drain him again, and draining him meant she'd have to weave magic. With so many Weaver guards all around them, it could prove difficult for her do to so without getting caught. Kyle leaned in to whisper in Ariana's ear.

  “We should leave as soon as possible.”

  “Okay,” she whispered back. Then she smiled. “You don't have to whisper in my ear,” she added. Kyle nodded, realizing of course that she was right. She could probably hear him blinking from this distance. Then he had a sobering thought; how many times had he farted when she was nearby, taking extraordinary pains to remain as stealthy as possible? She'd probably heard him doing it every time. Every single time. No, not probably...definitely.

  “Look,” Ariana said, pointing down the street. There, a block away, was a three-story gray stone building, a large banner hanging above the front door. Kyle couldn't read it, but the drawing of two frothy mu
gs was unmistakable.

  “Come on boys,” Slim cried. “To cheap booze and expensive women!”

  “Only expensive for you,” Guns shot back, flexing a massive bicep. Everyone laughed, and the group made their way to the pub entrance, filing through. The pungent aroma of cigar smoke struck Kyle as he entered, and he wrinkled his nose, trying not to cough. The inside of the pub was smoky, loud, and dark...and noisy. For being so early in the morning, there were a surprising number of patrons at the bar. Slim and the gang asked a rather pretty waitress for a table, and she led them to a corner of the pub, to a large round table. They all took their seats.

  “What can I get for you boys?” the waitress asked.

  “Beers all around to start,” Slim replied. Then he grinned. “And you for dessert.”

  “Sorry, I’m not on the menu,” the waitress replied, not missing a beat. “And for you two?” she asked, nodding at Kyle and Ariana.

  “Uh, just water,” Kyle replied.

  “I'm good,” Ariana mumbled.

  A few moments later, everyone but Kyle and Ariana had beers in hand. And almost as quickly, those beers were emptied, and a second round was asked for. Slim regaled the group with a slightly embellished version of his and Guns' heroic patching of the hull, to the delight of the crew. That led to others recounting their own harrowing tales of the warship's attack. By the time their waitress had brought a fourth round, the mood had become somber as the men remembered those who died. Slim gave a touching, if quite drunk, tribute to Rusty that left everyone's eyes moist – especially Kyle's. Even their waitress stopped to listen, as did half of the patrons in the bar. Then food was brought, and Kyle ate heartily with the others. When he was sated, the waitress whisked his plate away, and the men ordered yet another round of beers.