The Fourth Runi (The Fledgling Account Book 4)

by Y. K. Willemse

  The real purpose of the troops was not to find Rafen, after all. It was to weary Rafen with constant flight. If the Soul Breaker’s Curse was telling on Rafen anywhere near as much as it was telling on the Lashki, Rafen would be suffering in his own way. A barrage of voices perhaps, a lack of control over himself, a supreme mental weariness and depression. The Selson boy’s death would have contributed to this wonderfully.

  Still, the Lashki had to admit he was tired of waiting, tired of holding off all the conquests he had intended to begin before the boy had escaped Tarhia. The Lashki had meant to rule Siana once and for all and use that country as a stepping stone to others. If he won Siana, he controlled Sarient’s richest province. It made the perfect start to the conquering of Sarient, which he would do with armies from within Tarhia and Siana. From there, he would overrun Zal Ricio ’el Nria, Vladimiēr, and eventually the smaller countries of the world.

  In due course, he could rule Siana through Richard, whose men he had infiltrated some time ago, along with his father’s. Yet Rafen’s death was a necessary ingredient in this plan. When Rafen was too weary to resist the call of Nazt anymore, he would come to the Ravine, and the Lashki would be waiting for him with his army around him, delighted that at last his domination was about to begin.

  “You will send out more men,” he told Annette. “Asiel will accompany you.”

  He inclined his head to Asiel, who stood near Annette with a gloating expression on his face. The smug look vanished abruptly.

  “You must harry the Fourth Runi,” the Lashki said. “Do not let him get a moment’s rest. I want him found, but for Nazt’s sake, if you cannot find him, torment him unto madness.”

  “But, Master,” Asiel beseeched in something close to a whine, “the boy cannot be found. We have done our best to—”

  He broke off with a yelp as a beam of blue met his leg and sent a spasm through his frame. He shuddered, clutching his trembling limb.

  “Silence,” the Lashki said. “Do you think I enjoy your snivelling? You will not give up. You may not see the Runi – and Nazt forgive you if you do not – yet you will cover every area of the Mountains until he has nowhere to go. Perhaps he is taking a secret route or using kesmal to cover his trail. Do not make it easy for him.”

  He paused and raised the copper rod, his black eyes fixed on its burning blue tip above his head. “FOR NAZT!”

  The answering bellow reminded him of the voices he held dearer than anything else: “FOR NAZT!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  In

  Dark Places

  “So a Runi ’as a phoenix feather,” Sherwin had said to Adelphia.

  She had stood in the open doorway of her shack, staring out at the whirling snow around her house. A blizzard was brewing, and she had been watching it in idle fascination while he had yet again delved into the past, to redeem what she had refused to tell him.

  “Yes,” Adelphia said, her white hair flecked with snow fluffs. “The Runi receives the phoenix feather, because once he is in the flesh, he forgets everything – his purpose, his identity, even his ability to do kesmal. That is the weakness of flesh: it forgets. The phoenix feather arouses all those old things in the one who receives it.”

  “So ’ow come I can do kesmal?”

  Sherwin was remembering the incident on the New Isles’ city wall, in which he had supernaturally pulled Rafen back up when he had fallen two stories.

  “I believe your interactions with both Rafen and the Lashki have awakened it within you. Seeing other Runi has reminded you of your true self.”

  While Sherwin wasn’t sure he would call the Lashki a Runi, he couldn’t deny the rest of what she was saying. It had all started happening when he had met Rafen, and when Rafen was grief-stricken after his mother’s death, necessity had forced Sherwin to use his latent abilities. That was when he had seen they had always been at his fingertips.

  “Weren’ the Runi incarnated to fight Nazt?”

  Adelphia nodded.

  “And the Secrai too?”

  “Yes,” Adelphia said, “though they were never to be the ultimate leaders. They were the healers, the helpmeets, the encouragers, and the blessings of the Runi.”

  “So… the Runi lead the Secrai.”

  He moved to the doorway to join her, and she ushered him outside, where they both enjoyed the frigid air.

  “Indeed. And the final Runi – the Fourth, or the Runi ki Hafa – is destined to reunite the Eleven in the flesh and be their ultimate commander. He will find the secret to destroying Nazt and lead us all in the last battle.”

  “Right,” Sherwin said. “So, if I ’ad received the phoenix feather, I would ’ave been the First Runi? Alakil received his before Fritz and Thomas, didn’ he?”

  “Yes, he did,” Adelphia said, pulling her shawl closer around herself, “and you are still a Runi, even though you did not receive the feather. You are the First, because of your connection with the Lashki.”

  “But my kesmal and all tha’ was never properly aroused,” Sherwin said despairingly. “Look, I’ve ’eard Raf talkin’ about Nazt, and I don’ want to be part of this anyway. I don’ want to go there.”

  “You already have,” Adelphia said, and Sherwin remained in uncomfortable silence, wondering whether she was referencing the Lashki’s visits to Nazt, or the voices Sherwin himself had heard ever since he could remember. Though he would never have admitted to the voices, he didn’t really want to talk about the Lashki either.

  “You still have kesmal,” Adelphia said. “How do you run so fast? How do you remain out here in but one shirt, and not die of cold?”

  “Tha’ doesn’ change anythin’,” Sherwin said. “I can’t fight Nazt. I’m not a leader, Adelphia… I’m not a great person. I’m the lowest of the low.”

  “Perhaps all you require is a great leader,” Adelphia said. “Zion has provided you with everything you need, Sherwin.”

  “Raf hates me now,” Sherwin said bitterly. “I only get in the way of ’is position in government and ’is personal time with ’is girl.”

  Adelphia’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Rafen will see your value someday. You know where Zion would have you, and you are only wasting time hiding from the truth.” She turned a piercing blue gaze on him, and he looked away. “Know this,” Adelphia said, “no matter what your better instincts tell you, you must not reveal to Rafen your connections with Alakil. It may ruin everything. I would hope Rafen would understand… yet supposing he does not? A worse possibility is that in his next confrontation with the Lashki, he may reveal something which will doom you if you entrust him with the wrong information. Rafen would never willingly betray you, but—”

  Sherwin could hardly restrain a laugh.

  “…but you must remember the Lashki attacked his soul recently,” Adelphia continued. “He has his ways of finding out any secrets Rafen may bear. You must keep this to yourself until the times absolutely demand Rafen must know, until it is important for Rafen to see that without you, Sherwin, he cannot hope to destroy Nazt.”

  Sherwin inclined his head. He had not intended to share any secrets with Rafen in the near future anyway. “Yer said the Runi received phoenix feathers,” he said, “an’ I know for certain Raf has one.”

  He knew because of the dreams he had had for years back in his own world. There had been four runners, and Sherwin chasing behind had made five. It was the only time Rafen had been able to truly outrun Sherwin. As a result, he had received the feather Sherwin had set his heart on.

  “That is intriguing,” Adelphia said with irony. She was staring out into the snow again, so Sherwin felt it was safe to look at her face. “The Sartians would have us believe Richard received a feather when he was not even two.”

  “Richard?”

  “You have never met him,” Adelphia said. “Surely Rafen told you something about him though?”

  “Yeah. ’e told me Richard was a pain in the butt.”

  Adelphia raised a thi
n eyebrow.

  “’e jus’ didn’ say it quite like tha’,” Sherwin said.

  “It may interest you to know that Richard is in line for the Sianian throne, and as Runi, he is betrothed to my granddaughter, Etana. So the Sartians will reclaim the throne and all the power they lost during the time I and Joseph ruled and the Sianians moved toward independence, moved toward a life freer from class, from dogma, pretensions, and overburdening taxes. If it were up to the Sianians, Talmon and his kind would have been dealt with a long time ago. However, the Sartians are so intent on wealth and power they will humor even the developments the Lashki brings.” She paused and inhaled. “It’s a pity…”

  Sherwin shrugged. “I know what yer mean. And we all poured out our guts earlier this year, gettin’ this country back for King Robert. But Etana’s joint heir, and Richard won’t rule for a while though, will ’e?”

  “He will be in Siana in a week,” Adelphia said. “He has been voyaging for some months now. He is here to be trained under King Robert for two years, until he is ready to take the throne himself. At least, that is what King Albert claims. I believe he is here as a spy on our government and monarchy. I believe he is here to bring Sartian sway early, and to make sure the current Secra does not try to escape him.”

  Sherwin found himself biting back a smile. Rafen was going to be lonely.

  “I suppose Rafen knows what his phoenix feather means,” Adelphia said, turning to walk back indoors.

  The blizzard was escalating so quickly that very soon the shack would be lost in it. Blinking snow out of his eyes, Sherwin turned to follow her.

  “I’m sure ’e does,” he had said without conviction. “He jus’ never talks about it, tha’s all.”

  *

  Eleven slow weeks had rolled by. Fritz had handed over the leadership to Rafen permanently, because of his ability to extend his sight. Rafen had discovered his visions were incredibly reliable, and as a result, they never became lost again. However, Rafen was also coming to realize that this particular route through the Mountains was an everlasting one. It was nowhere near as simple as making their way across the edge of the mountain range. They had run out of food seven weeks ago. Etana now found them roots and mosses to eat. This all felt very familiar. Rafen remembered the lack of energy a diet of spindly vegetation resulted in. He was relieved when they occasionally caught a mountain goat or wolverine, but even these were becoming scarce. Fritz said they were entering the part of the Haer Mountains known as the Dead Mountains. They were collecting extra herbs in advance, he said, because the time would come when they would have no food to scavenge.

  Rafen’s mental efforts to retrieve Thomas were still unrewarded, and Rafen wondered if it was because he was going about it the same way he had gone about bringing Fritz back. Perhaps a combining of the times wasn’t possible with Thomas because he had never traveled through the Haer Mountains. Rafen needed to find a new way of reuniting himself with the previous Runi, and it would have to involve some kind of physical resurrection.

  The silence from their enemies was as nervewracking as an attack, particularly when Rafen was excruciatingly aware of how slowly they were going. Etana was now seven months pregnant. She couldn’t run and couldn’t transform into a snake-like creature anymore, as she had done once when traveling with Rafen. She found climbing a strain, and was often afraid of heights, something that had never been a problem before now.

  So that they could travel unseen, Etana and her grandfather constantly used kesmal to create walls and barriers around them. These were very effective, so much so that one night when Sherwin left to relieve himself, he spent six hours wandering around trying to find the camp before Fritz himself had come out to help him. Although Sherwin had reported the presence of Naztwai and Ashurites nearby, the rest of the camp never saw them.

  Even though Fritz was frequently condescending, Rafen thanked Zion for him. They never would have made it this far without him.

  “The Lashki is taking his time,” Fritz said as they descended a rocky slope leading to a stony path Rafen had pointed out.

  “Tha’s good,” Sherwin said, “because we’re takin’ ours.”

  Etana was panting behind him, and Rafen helped her clamber over the rocks. She smiled at him, and as always now, Rafen found this somehow reminded him of Kasper’s death. It was Kasper’s jokes, he decided. Kasper had often joked around. When she smiled at him, it reminded Rafen that Kasper had been killed partly because of him.

  “I don’t think the Lashki is pursuing us himself,” Rafen said softly. “He would have found us by now.”

  Etana and he had reached the bottom of the slope, and now all that remained was for Francisco to clatter down onto the path beside them.

  “For a surety,” Francisco said.

  “Why would he not pursue you himself, if he is so effective?” Fritz asked, glancing around the path.

  Rafen narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air, trying to figure out the next route they should take. He had a feeling this was the part with the cave that he had foreseen months ago.

  “The Lashki’s scared,” Sherwin said. “’e didn’ come off so well the last time he fought Raf.”

  “As soon as I’ve got men,” Rafen said, “I’m going to hunt him down and kill him. He killed my mother… and Kasper and Bambi and Erasmus. And hundreds of others. I have to finish him.”

  “I shall be right there next to you, Rafen,” Fritz said.

  Rafen looked wonderingly into Fritz’s determined eyes. He hadn’t thought of it like this before. If Fritz helped him kill the Lashki now, the king would probably permanently be in Rafen’s time. It was a perfect plan.

  Sherwin looked away.

  “This wall here,” Rafen said, indicating the fungi-covered stone to their left. “It has an opening in it somewhere.”

  “Very well,” Fritz said.

  He had lost his usual skepticism after some time of this kind of travel. With one hand against the wall, he strode forward purposefully, ducking down periodically to look at some shadow. Sherwin and Francisco followed as a matter of course, Sherwin intentionally bumping into Francisco and saying with bravado, “Ohh. I’m sorry. I thought yer were the air.”

  His sense of humor was suffering after too long in the Mountains with too little food.

  “Here,” Fritz called from up ahead.

  Rafen took Etana’s hand gently and led her forward. Francisco had rushed ahead to join Fritz and examine the cave entry.

  “It is a little small,” he said.

  “Is it the only way, Rafen?” Fritz asked.

  “There is a longer way around,” Rafen said.

  Etana stooped to look at the entry and shook her head in horror. “I can’t go through there.”

  It was scarcely waist-height, and the damp, limestone tunnel beyond looked as if it narrowed as it went along. Rafen couldn’t imagine her trying to slither through it.

  “You’re right,” he said. “We’ll have to go around the other way.”

  A burst of orange near his ear caused him to jump sideways, throwing his arms around Etana. A shower of debris rained down from the point on the wall where the kesmal had struck.

  Fritz whipped his sword from his sheath and surveyed the rocky wall opposite them. It was vacant.

  “Do you think there is only one of them?” Etana murmured, clutching Rafen.

  They had been without enemies for so long that no one quite believed this was happening.

  “There will be more than one,” Fritz said.

  “There is,” Rafen said, catching the scents on the wind.

  A roar from their left alerted them. A torrent of purple flame rushed toward their heads. Rafen stepped forward with confidence and threw out his palm. A sheet of his own ruddy-colored flame appeared between him and the oncoming kesmal. The purple collided with Rafen’s wall with a sickening smack that resonated through the Mountains and sent sparks into the air.

  In response, a series of Naztwai whistles ro
se in the distance.

  “There is no escaping it now,” Fritz said. “We must take this route. They are certain to outnumber us.”

  “I can’t,” Etana said, gasping as if she couldn’t breathe. “Really, I can’t. You don’t understand.”

  “We can’t do this, Fritz,” Rafen spat. “What if she loses the child? We’ll go the other way.”

  “There is no time,” Fritz snarled, and a collection of Ashurites appeared on the rocky wall opposite them. “For Zion’s sake, Rafen, one crawl through the dark is not going to harm your child.”

  A black group of forms was already advancing across the elevated crags to join the Ashurites. Rafen estimated there were fifty Naztwai.

  He looked helplessly at his wife, but Sherwin was already urging her on.

  “Go, Etana. Yer go first. Hurry!”

  “No. Rafen, go first, please,” she panted, “you must, and I will hold onto your boots, and you will know there is a way out.”

  A kaleidoscope of kesmal filled the air behind Rafen. Absorbing it with his bare hand, he ducked down and squeezed himself into the narrow opening, his body vibrating with energy. The close surroundings reminded him uncomfortably of working in Talmon’s coal mine in Tarhia.

  “Hurry, Rafen,” Etana said shrilly from behind him.

  Rafen wriggled further into the low tunnel. He narrowed his eyes against the darkness. The passage grew closer ahead, like a throat that was slowly closing around him. The sweat breaking out on his forehead and hands had nothing to do with himself. All he could think about was the little ripples he had felt within Etana that night on the mountainside.

  Fritz had said they would be all right. Fritz was a father, and he would know.

  Rafen felt hands grip his ankles. Etana was struggling her way into the tunnel, her breathing a rasp.

  “It’s all right, Etana,” he said in a muffled voice to her.

  She was gasping while worming forward. Once this would have been effortless to her. Yet kesmal couldn’t solve everything.