The Fourth Runi (The Fledgling Account Book 4)

by Y. K. Willemse

  THE FOURTH RUNI By Y.K. Willemse

  Published by Burnett Young Fiction

  P.O. Box 1

  Clarklake, MI 49234

  ISBN: 978-1-64071-007-8

  Copyright © 2015 by Y.K. Willemse

  Cover design by Ruth Germon

  Interior design by Donato Toledo Jr.

  Available in print and ebook from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at: www.BurnettYoungBooks.com

  For more information on this book and the author, visit: http://www.writersanctuary.net/

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only. Burnett Young Books may include ghosts, werewolves, witches, the undead, soothsayers, pirates, mythological creatures, theoretical science, fictional technology, adult romance and material which, may be of a controversial nature within some religious circles.

  Brought to you by the creative team at Burnett Young Books:

  Meaghan Burnett & Cyle Young

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Willemse, Y.K.

  The Fourth Runi / Y.K. Willemse 1st ed.

  Contend, O Lord, with those who contend with me;

  Fight against those who fight against me.

  Take up the shield and buckler;

  Arise and come to my aid.

  Brandish the spear and javelin

  Against those who pursue me.

  Say to my soul,

  “I am your salvation” ~

  Psalm 35:1-3.

  O Lord, how many are my foes!

  How many rise up against me!

  Many are saying of me,

  “God will not deliver him”…

  Arise, O Lord!

  Deliver me, O my God!

  Strike all my enemies on the jaw;

  Break the teeth of the wicked.

  From the Lord comes deliverance.

  May your blessing be on your people ~

  Psalm 3: 1-2, 7-8.

  For the True King.

  In honor of my niece, Keziah, the real Amari.

  Acknowledgements to my brother Michael and my Dad, who told me when it was trash.

  For Josiah, who gets along with Rafen just fine.

  Pronunciation Guide

  Rafen – RAH-fen

  Runi – ROOH-NIE

  Secra – seh-CRAH

  Lashki Mirah – lash-KIE MIE-rah

  Alakil – AH-lah-kile

  Asiel – AH-syahl

  Etana – e-TAH-nyah

  Talmon – TELL-mohn

  Torius – taw-REEAS

  Erasmus – eh-RAS-mahs

  Amari – AH-mah-RIE

  Demus – DAY-muhs

  Sarient – SAHR-ree-ahnt

  Haer – HAY-air

  Hara – ha-RAH

  Tarhia – TAHR-reeah

  Siana – SIE-ah-nyah

  Zal Ricio ’el Nria – zahl ri-KIE-oh ahl n-REEAH

  Ruya – ROOH-yah

  Ranian – RAH-nyian

  Darai – DAHR-ay

  Crutia – CROOH-tee-ah

  Parith – Pa-REETH

  Nyolam – NYOH-lahm

  Rusem – ROOH-sehm

  Leginis – LEH-gi-niss

  Mio Pilamùr – MIE-oh PIE-lah-myur

  Mio Urmeea – MIE-oh er-MEE-ah

  Nazt – NAHZT

  Naztwai – NAHZT-way

  Zion – ZIE-ohn

  Kesmal – kehs-MAHL

  Nhanya – NAHN-yah

  Chapter One

  Kesmal

  It was a shared dream, and Sherwin knew it because Rafen was there on the floor of the Ravine with him, pale in the world of floating snow flecks, resisting an invisible pull on his body that was drawing him closer…

  Closer to Sherwin.

  It was odd, because normally Sherwin would approach Rafen first, subserviently. For the first time since meeting Rafen, Sherwin resolved to remain where he was. Perhaps it was the bitterly cold air that invigorated him so. He stood on the frigid, unforgiving stone between the wide, craggy walls of the Ravine and felt his power returning to him. He hadn’t known till now who he was. He hadn’t wanted to know.

  Now he was ready.

  Rafen staggered forward, his fate already sealed, depicted in his drunken eyes. Nazt was too much for him since the Soul Breaker’s Curse. Who could have thought one so defiant, so vehement, would give way so finally at the end?

  Sherwin raised his long, distended fingers. The flash of brilliant blue that emanated from him was full of renewed energy, a zest for his revitalized supernatural self. It struck Rafen squarely in the chest, and he fell like a broken puppet. Sherwin reproved himself. He shouldn’t have aimed at the phoenix feather; it was imprudent of him to risk damaging it.

  Rafen had landed face down at his feet, his already colorless arms reaching out before him. Sherwin kneeled and shoved a hand under his chest, feeling with scrabbling fingers for the phoenix feather in his friend’s hem.

  His friend! It was a lie. He had no friends. He had never had friends.

  He withdrew the phoenix feather with a gasp of pleasure, and then he screamed. It was burning him; his flesh was melting, dripping, sliding away from the bone.

  With a shout, Sherwin sat up. The air in the Cursed Woods was still, apart from the chirping of distant bats. It had been a dream. He nursed his hand and rocked back and forth in his sitting position, reassuring himself that Rafen didn’t know about this side of him, and never would.

  *

  “Rafen, you must put these foolish aspirations behind you,” Queen Arlene said, gazing out the windows in her chambers.

  In the center of her wing, between two ornately carved pillars, she cut a severe figure: willowy, yet unforgiving; beautiful, but cold. Queen Arlene’s heart-shaped face was powdered, and her hair was pulled into an exquisite wreath of platinum braids at the back of her head. The right sleeve of her misty pearl gown hung empty below the elbow, where she had lost part of her arm to the Lashki.

  Catching sight of it, Rafen said, “You saved my brother because you thought he was me. You knew Siana could not be won without me. And yet you refuse to allow me a position in government. You would have even given this country to the Sartians.” Though his body was thrumming with anger, he kept his voice low. “What did your husband say to persuade you to keep ruling?” he pressed. “What threats did he have to make?”

  Queen Arlene turned, her cold blue eyes meeting his. The ice in them reminded him of the Lashki’s kesmal.

  “My husband made no threats, for your information. And what goes on in the Sianian royal courts is none of your business.”

  “Really?” Rafen stepped closer, his warm left hand tingling with kesmal at his side. “Your husband told me when I was twelve that one day I would be given a position in the Sianian government, as the Fledgling of the Phoenix – someone who would reinforce the rule of the monarchy and protect this country. What I’m asking for isn’t
presumptuous. It is what I was set apart for from birth.”

  Even his title of Sianian Wolf pointed to this! The peasant prophecies made it clear that the Wolf was merely another manifestation of the Fledgling, albeit a more savage one.

  “Your mother was a fraud, Rafen.” Queen Arlene’s bitter words had a bite. “You are a mere human. A great disappointment to us all, to be sure. Yet one cannot change blo—”

  “My mother was not a fraud!” Rafen shouted. If only Admiral Alexander wasn’t at sea, making sure all the Tarhians and pirates didn’t return. Rafen’s one certain ally in all this had no say.

  “I am surprised you dare speak to me this way,” Queen Arlene said, drawing herself up, “and then ask me in the same breath to continue your education. Do you not understand, Rafen, that those days are over? Why do you harass General Jacob to continue your fencing lessons? He will not have any more to do with a human than he needs to. Why do you bother me about kesmal tuition and book learning? A human has no right to be in the New Isles palace, let alone to be asking for such things with a view to being installed in government.”

  “I was once your son,” Rafen said quietly. “I’m surprised you speak to me this way.”

  “Those days are long gone,” Queen Arlene said, her lips white with fury. “How many times must I tell you? You and my husband are both deluded. He would have housed you and your family here in the palace. I cannot imagine a more disgusting scandal – the pure-blooded of Siana mingling with humans, the children of traitors like Roger. Robert was right to put you under that man’s custody until you reach manhood, and with a little advice, he lodged you all in the country away from New Isles, where you belong.”

  Rafen’s muscles tensed. “You mean as joint ruler you demanded it was so. I told him numerous times I didn’t want that edict about the custody written.”

  It had taken months for him to get this audience with Queen Arlene. In the end, he had waited in New Isles for her to visit the people one day, where he had requested publicly that she speak with the Fledgling and Sianian Wolf in the palace. She could hardly refuse him before her subjects. Appearances mattered too much to her.

  “I’m months away from turning sixteen and being counted as a man by Sianian standards,” Rafen said. “King Robert promised me that when I was of age, I would be inaugurated in government. You have to listen to me. I’ve seen Zion. He sent me to fight for the Sianians. I know my father is a worm, but my mother was something more.”

  Queen Arlene made a restless move. “Rafen, this interview is over.”

  “Just endorse my education. Provide me with tutors so that I can do what I was born to do – so that I can take care of Siana and destroy the Lashki one day.”

  “Guards.”

  Queen Arlene seldom had to raise her voice to be heard. Six men burst through the double doors leading into her chambers and flanked Rafen.

  “Remove this peasant from my sight.”

  “I’m more than a human!” Rafen roared at her.

  Several strong hands closed on his arms. When the men began dragging him from the room, Rafen threw them off, evading them with the speed that the regular use of kesmal brought. He darted to the door and clutched the frame with a hand so hot that the wood smoked. One guard exclaimed something in terror.

  “I will find a way to do what Zion meant me to do,” Rafen said. “You can support me or oppose me, Arlene. Choose wisely.”

  Her form stiffened while he transformed and shot down the adjoining corridor as a wolf, servants stumbling to make way for him.

  *

  “Even the king said you would be a fool to stay, Sherwin,” Roger said condescendingly, misquoting King Robert for the hundredth time in his life. “You should most certainly leave. Don’t expect I will have you in my house.”

  The house Roger called his was really a three room cottage King Robert had given him. It had belonged to a farmer, and was surrounded by expansive fields that eventually ran into the grasslands outside the Cursed Woods in the south. And the Cursed Woods were where Sherwin stayed, as Roger wouldn’t have him in the house. Rafen had demanded that Sherwin stay indoors with them, but even Sherwin was strangely reluctant about the whole affair. For months, he had slept in the Woods, claiming he didn’t want to cause strife in the Ridding family. Rafen couldn’t shake the feeling that his friend was hiding something from him. Occasionally, he spent the night outside with Sherwin. Yet when he would wake, Sherwin would have left to find food and water without him. That was when Rafen had begun resting in the cottage more, to be near his brother.

  King Robert had only given Roger this cottage because of Rafen’s services to the kingdom. While Rafen knew his previous foster father had not wanted to give him up to Roger at first, the king had gradually seen he could not refuse the former Tarhian general. After Elizabeth had died, Roger had insisted that Francisco and Rafen were all he had, even though he had showed little interest in them while Rafen was healing from the Soul Breaker’s Curse. When his wife had also pressed him, the king had housed the Riddings together, asking Rafen to come and see him frequently. Though Rafen submitted to life with Roger, he did so mainly out of respect for King Robert’s wishes and solidarity with his brother. The moment he turned sixteen and became a man by Sianian standards, he would leave his father’s home with Francisco, who had agreed to come then, and there was nothing King Robert could do about it.

  “Look, mate,” Sherwin spat at Roger, “I don’ want to stay in yer flamin’ ’ouse. I was ’appy to live outdoors. All I wanted was to be near ’im.”

  He jerked a thumb in Rafen’s direction. Sitting at the small, scratched table in the poorly furnished kitchen, Rafen realized Sherwin was talking in the past tense. Sensing the tension, Francisco timidly raised his hand and said something about going “for firewood now, comrades”.

  Even though he was identical to Rafen, Francisco’s mannerisms were entirely different. The way he carried himself, held his mouth, and used his eyes spoke of a softness and uncompromising elegance Rafen didn’t possess. Unlike Rafen, Francisco was not one to go sailing into conflict. He fairly flew out the kitchen door and along the grassy lane before the house.

  “You don’t want this anymore?” Rafen said quietly.

  “Oh,” Sherwin said, “I get it now. Yer want me to ’ang around and be yer servant all the time, isn’ tha’ right?”

  Even taller and ganglier than he had been five months ago, Sherwin towered in the kitchen. His fair-skinned face, framed by long, messy, straw-colored hair, was livid as he tried to stare Rafen down with sky blue eyes.

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” Rafen said, rising.

  Roger raised placating hands.

  “Now, Rafen,” he said calmly, “if Sherwin sees the need to go now, all I can say is that he is in the right. The king did say that humans who are not in the king’s favor, as you are, suffer at the hands of the pure-blooded Sianian citizens. They aren’t received in such a friendly manner.”

  “Sherwin has just as much right to stay in Siana as I do,” Rafen said loudly.

  “Never mind,” Sherwin said. “I don’ care, all right? Yeh’re at the New Isles palace ’alf the time anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Rafen said.

  “I know what yer doin’,” Sherwin said. “Yer don’ care to be around anyone but ’er. Every time I say somethin’ like ‘let’s go ’unting, let’s spar, let’s do somethin’’, yer say no and go around all moony and—”

  “Shut your face!” Rafen yelled.

  He turned panicked eyes on his pale-faced father, who was placidly smoothing his shiny brown hair on the top of his pebble head. Obviously, Roger had not understood what Sherwin was saying, because he probably would have burst a nerve if he had known about Rafen and the Secra Etana. Rafen couldn’t risk Roger telling anyone else that his filthy-blooded human son cared for the heir to the throne.

  “NO, YER SHUT YEHRS!” Sherwin bellowed. “Yer always trainin’ alone or with ’er
and preparin’ for some position in government yeh’ll never get. I ’eard yer talkin’ to ’er the other day when yer met in the Woods.” Sherwin put on an irritating high voice. “‘All Sheer-win wants to do is run around in the Woods like a child’ – just as if yer were Queen Arlene.”

  “I didn’t say that!” Rafen shouted, although he was floundering. He hadn’t realized Sherwin had been listening in on a private meeting. “What business was it of yours?”

  “WHAT BUSINESS WAS IT OF MINE TO COME ’ERE IN THE FIRS’ PLACE?” Sherwin roared, and Roger made halfhearted flapping motions evidently meant to decrease the volume. “YER ONLY EVER WANTED ME AROUND WHEN YER HAD NO FAMILY, NO PRETENSIONS TO GREATNESS, AND NO GIRL.”

  “You were all right as a friend,” Rafen said in a low, dangerous voice, “until you started listening to private conversations and being a prating fool.”

  The blue veins in Sherwin’s neck stood out as he struggled to find something to blast Rafen with. It was futile. He flung open the door and threw himself out of it, sending Francisco sprawling as he brought in the firewood. Leaving Rafen’s lookalike lying in a heap of misshapen sticks, Sherwin broke into one of the thumping and unusually fast runs characteristic of him. He receded into the distance rapidly.

  Roger raised one eyebrow in gratification.

  *

  It was a spring that brought back memories of last year, when they had all been shut up in Fritz’s Hideout, with no hope of liberation. All that had changed, partially because Rafen had decided to leave and attempt winning Siana back from the Lashki and the Tarhians without waiting for Prince Robert Selson and his plans. He, Sherwin, Etana, and Francisco had braved the Woods alone, and unintentionally set into motion the Pirate King Sirius Jones’ schemes for the conquest of Siana and the Lashki’s schemes for Rafen’s murder. Neither of these goals came about, however. Rafen ran Sirius through in a fight for his life and shortly after survived the Lashki’s attempt to destroy his soul. To annihilate the power of the Lashki’s curse, which had been based on the Pirate King’s favorite weapon, Etana had splintered the dagger Sirius had given Rafen. She had returned it to Rafen in pieces. Because it had bad memories, Rafen had concealed it beneath a plank in the floor of his house. He guessed he wasn’t the only one with unwanted recollections. During his struggle with the Lashki, Rafen had wounded him, and the ghoul hadn’t shown his decaying face since, leaving Siana to the Sianians… as it always should have been.