The Fourth Runi (The Fledgling Account Book 4)

by Y. K. Willemse

Chapter Forty

  The Fourth

  Runi’s Decision

  Rafen’s insides turned cold. Though he tried to wrench his arm free from the Sartians, they tightened their grip. Through the pain, he forced himself to try again, and this time a burst of flame appeared while they dragged him from the throne room. The two Sartians leapt back as the double doors were slammed shut from within. Rafen seized a dagger from one of their belts and directed it at the doors; the blade glowed orange. In his mind, he could see Richard on fire, screeching like a bird. Lewis swung a sword above Rafen’s head, and Rafen whirled around, sending a torrent of fire toward his skull. Lewis coolly constructed a clear shield. The flame ricocheted off it and enveloped Rafen. The heat only served to enrage him further.

  Blue kesmal laced the air from behind. The Sartians fell silently, and Lewis screamed in rage, whipping his sword around. A tendril of blue tore it from his grasp and dashed it against the opposite wall. Another beam shattered his shield and struck him between the eyes, and he collapsed on the floor. Rafen backed away down the corridor, staring at the tapestry from behind which the kesmal had exploded.

  Sherwin disentangled himself and looked at the unconscious people with grim satisfaction.

  “Raf,” he said, glancing at him. “Yer don’ look so good.”

  Rafen couldn’t tear his eyes off Sherwin. It wasn’t as if he had changed. Rafen was simply seeing things in him that he hadn’t recognized before: a certain hardness in the eyes, a haughty determination in the high brow and the set of the mouth. He was reminding Rafen of Alakil in all the worst ways possible.

  It’s your friend, he told himself. Don’t think of him like that. Sherwin deserves your trust.

  “W-where is Francisco?” he stammered.

  Francisco appeared from behind the tapestry too. “It was, for a surety, a boneheaded hiding place,” he said to Sherwin. “You could see our feet. My brother!”

  He rushed over and embraced Rafen. Rafen hugged him incredulously, his hands gripping the back of his brother’s coat. He kept expecting Francisco to vanish.

  “You have not been yourself,” Francisco whispered. “I could feel it.”

  “Where were you?” Rafen asked.

  “Behind the tapestry,” Sherwin said. “Naw, actually, we were locked in some chambers for a while, and I got to tend Franny, because someone sent us the ointment he needed. I don’t know who; it was thrown through the window in some cloth. Then they decided they were goin’ to move us to the dungeons and put us on trial right after yer, in two months’ time or somethin’. And yer were bein’ sent back to Roger’s old place so that yer were far away from Etana. Let’s go in there to talk.”

  He indicated an empty side room much further down the corridor. Rafen followed him and Francisco at a run and closed the door behind them all. Scarlet curtains drawn over all the windows in the chamber they occupied left them in a ruddy kind of dusk.

  “Richard was sending me back today,” Rafen said breathlessly. “Sherwin, I have to see my wife.”

  “Yeh’ll ’ave to make it quick,” Sherwin said. “An’ then maybe we should steal some horses and try again to reach Cyril Earl’s place, the easier way round, through the Woods. The Lashki left because ’e was afraid of Fritz and the men yer summoned. Perhaps this time we won’t ’ave a whole bunch of ’orrors forcin’ us to travel through those hideous Mountains.”

  Rafen remembered what he had said to Cyril Earl: that he would return and lead his men into battle against Richard. Yet if he did that now, he ignored one very important thing.

  “I can’t go to Cyril’s,” he said, his heart plummeting. “No, Sherwin, it wouldn’t be right. Cyril’s men might fight for me, but the Sianian people will all be against us, because they believe what Richard says about me. I’ve got to go on trial like he says. I’ve got to face up to this, and then at least they can hear my part of the story. Now I have a chance to win back the hearts of the people, I have to show myself to be above reproof, rather than fleeing and implicating Cyril in my supposed crimes. After the trial, when I’ve told my story before Siana, I’ll go to Cyril. Let the people decide for themselves who they support.”

  Francisco was shaking his head sadly. Sherwin looked horrified.

  “Raf, yer don’t ’ave to be tha’ noble.”

  “I’m afraid I do,” Rafen said. “I’m the Fourth Runi, Sherwin. You’ll take me to Etana?”

  “Yeah,” Sherwin said impatiently. “And after tha’, Franny and I will journey to the shack ahead of yer, if yer really do choose to go with Richard’s men. Quick, Richard will be after us now.”

  *

  After a series of muffled yells and thumps, Sherwin reached down to grab Rafen’s hand and help him over the railing of the balcony. It appeared Sherwin had disposed of any philosophers in Etana’s wing, another horrible sign that Sherwin could, in fact do kesmal. Another horrible sign that linked him to the Lashki. Rafen knew he had secretly been relying on Adelphia’s assumption that there was a shred of the Lashki’s soul that could yet be turned to Zion and used to save Nazt. Yet he had not hoped it was Sherwin. In fact, everything in Rafen reviled at the thought. His friend – involved in his mother’s murder through a connection to the Lashki? His friend – joined to his worst enemy? He refused to believe it. What he was observing surely had other explanations.

  Giving Sherwin an odd look, Rafen clambered over the railing with difficulty, his left arm throbbing. His sight was still blurry at the edges, but he found the spirits bothered him less and less. The pain in his left arm seemed to restore his sanity.

  Etana was there before the glass doors, staring at him and breathing shallowly. She looked much better than she had in the Mountains, healthier, with more color. She was willowy again, with no trace that she had been pregnant. Doubtless that was how Richard wanted it. She wore a white silk dress with a scarlet bolero, and it made her look like she was in a dream – one of the dreams Rafen frequently had about her, where she was always just out of reach.

  She was in his arms; she was gasping, weeping against his shoulder, and he was holding her very tightly, his fingers digging into her back, savoring the fact that she was real. He took back everything he’d ever thought against Zion.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Everything will be all right.”

  “Nothing will ever be all right again,” she choked. “Grandfather told me not to go with him and Sherwin when they went looking for you on the mountainside. He said it was dangerous. I went anyway, and the Lashki captured me – used me to lure you to the Ravine.”

  Rafen pulled back, holding her face gently in his hand and searching it. “If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. Francisco again, perhaps. Someone wise once told me to forgive myself.”

  Etana shivered. “I’m not wise. Not if I didn’t even listen to Grandfather.”

  “Etana, I’m not angry at you,” Rafen said softly. “And neither is Zion. Please don’t torture yourself. Please don’t let this consume you.”

  “Can we do this inside?” Sherwin said, as sensitively as possible. “People are goin’ to see us, yer know. And it’s sort o’ cold out ’ere.”

  Etana gave him a dark look before moving quickly through the doors with Rafen, out of the late winter’s bitter winds. Francisco had joined them now, and he followed them in, shivering.

  Rafen met Etana’s gaze, steeling himself for what he was about to hear. “Richard said… he said that you had—”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “It’s true?”

  Rafen felt like he was sinking.

  “Only by law,” she said. “Rafen, he wanted to burn our marriage certificate, but he never found it. I don’t know where it is. My vows still stand, and I am unhurt by them. When he married me, he dared not use the temple vows because I said we had. He feared the kesmalic consequences, not for my sake, but for his own. He thought perhaps he would be cursed, and he only touches me in public. He said he couldn’t bear to share a
bed with… with a harlot like me.”

  She bowed her head, flushing. Rafen felt like he had swallowed a bubble.

  “Then he hasn’t…? Oh Zion.”

  She was crying, and he hastily brushed tears from her face.

  “I’m sorry,” Rafen said to Etana, pressing her to his chest. “I should have waited. I shouldn’t have forced myself on you. It wasn’t fair. I’ve been such a fool…”

  His voice broke. He couldn’t say all he wanted to, and there was no way he could make amends. The guilt would stick to him for years.

  “It is done,” Etana said, returning his embrace. “All I want is for us to be together again. I don’t care about anything else.”

  Rafen glanced around at the nine philosophers lying in various attitudes on the floor. It didn’t look like he and Etana would ever be together again.

  “Our child,” she said, panic edging her voice. “Where is she? Rafen, I must know. I feel like I’ll go mad.”

  “Hush,” Rafen said softly, laying a finger to her lips. “Lemuel had her. He took her somewhere – maybe to the country. I’ll find her, Etana. I promise.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “I’ll find our daughter.”

  It felt so strange saying it: “our daughter”.

  “My father and my brother Robert came to me,” she said. “They were worried. Robert was appalled. Rafen, he’s blaming you for Kasper’s death.” She stopped, hiding her face in her hands. “We have nothing to bury. Oh, Rafen, he died a brave and valiant death. He was one of the only ones who did the right thing.”

  Behind them, Sherwin looked stricken.

  “It was my fault,” Rafen said painfully, without meeting her eyes. “I touched—”

  “Shh.” She laid a hand on his face, stilling him with her look. “Kasper believed in you till the end. You must believe in yourself now. Zion knew what He was doing when He made you the Runi.”

  Rafen shook his head, an aching lump in his throat. In seconds, someone young, carefree, and so promising was gone. It left a hollowness in him that was impossible to bear.

  “You look terrible,” Etana said. “They’ve done things to you. Your eyes…”

  “What about them?” Rafen said warily.

  When she made to snatch a mirror from a chest of drawers, Rafen stayed her.

  “I don’t want to see,” he said. “They’ve been drugging me. They kept me naked, stole my phoenix feather so that I had to fight to get it back.”

  Sherwin made a convulsive move, and Francisco muttered a Tarhian curse. Etana turned white.

  “Did you hear that, Sherwin?” she hissed. “When you could have taken us to safety…”

  “Don’t blame him,” Rafen said. “He couldn’t have taken us to Cyril Earl’s unless he had Connection there anyway.”

  “Grandfather told me he did. Sherwin had a Connection from the Ravine,” Etana said sharply. “Rafen, it can’t be true. They haven’t been drugging you.”

  “What do you mean?” he spat. “What does Richard tell you? Do you believe what he says?”

  “No, no,” Etana said. “That’s not it at all. I never believed such things would happen in Siana while my father was on the throne. But Richard has the power to call the Sartian army here. They would destroy Siana as we know it. Oh, Rafen, you were going to have men. You were going to be taught under the best philosophers. You were going to be the Runi who succeeded!”

  Rafen laughed at the improbability of it all. “I always knew it would never work,” he said, slumping down on a nearby wooden chair. “There’s too much against us. Nazt, the Lashki, Richard, Sarient, and the Sianians loyal to Sarient.”

  “Rafen, don’t give up,” Etana pleaded. “Please. I shan’t. I shall keep fighting for you till my dying day. Your life means something. You matter.”

  “You matter,” Rafen said fiercely, looking up. “You and Amari and Francisco and Sherwin. I don’t want to ever see Nazt touching any of you. That’s why I’ll always fight.”

  His jaw was set, and his muscles tensed as he said it.

  Etana kneeled before him and reached up to kiss him fully on the lips. She did it again and again.

  “You are the true Runi,” she said softly. “It is just as Grandfather said. But you’re very sick. You must take some time to recover before pressing onward. You said everything would be all right, and it will be. Zion is going to help us.”

  Her fingers had found his left arm, and Rafen flinched as she rolled up the sleeve with an effort.

  He stared down at it. The black stain pervaded his whole left hand, and the skin bulged. The veins had turned a strange, luminous green.

  Francisco made a small understanding sound in his throat. Sherwin sucked in his breath.

  “This must be dealt with,” she said. “It is very dangerous.”

  “I can’t understand how weak I am,” Rafen said. “In the Ravine, I was able to keep fighting. The pain was bad, but I could keep going, and my kesmal obeyed me. Now, I can’t even summon enough kesmal to stop the philosophers from drugging me.”

  “You fought hard in the Ravine, Rafen,” Etana told him. “Harder than you’ve ever fought in your life. You did a huge piece of kesmal in summoning Fritz’s army. And you resisted your wounds and ran on adrenaline. I suppose your body had had enough afterward. It’s going to take a long time to recover now.”

  “Thanks Etana,” Rafen said sarcastically, looking away.

  “Don’t take it that way,” Etana said. “I couldn’t believe what you did. It was incredible. I’m proud of you.”

  “Yer were brilliant in the Ravine,” Sherwin said.

  He had fished Francisco’s ointment out of one of his pockets. Etana reached for it. “Let me try.”

  “No, Etana,” Rafen said. “Please leave it.”

  “You must let me try,” Etana said, fighting Rafen as he tried to wrest the ointment away from her. “Stop it. Please, Rafen.”

  Rafen clenched his teeth. “Do it then,” he said.

  He clamped his mouth shut, and she began. It was eating him; he wished she would knock him out, and it would be over. He gripped the arm of the chair with his right hand, biting his tongue. The sweat dripped into his eyes, and his skull felt like it was going to burst. He closed his eyes, and the darkness made it worse. Then he stared around himself desperately for something to distract him. His sight blurred, and he flung his head back in an effort to escape the pain, his neck stretched and tense.

  “Stop!” Francisco said shrilly, and the pain lessened.

  Rafen leaned back against the chair, his breathing heavy.

  “It is helping,” Etana said. “I know it is. It takes time. It took half a day for us to notice a change in you, Francisco.”

  “Of course,” Francisco said doubtfully. “We will apply it when they have taken him back to the Roger’s land, Etana.”

  “You’re going back?” Etana said. “Submitting to house arrest? Why? Rafen, you need to escape – get to Cyril Earl’s. I would come, except Richard has threatened to overrun Siana with Sartians unless I stay where I am. But you must go and recover in peace, and get men and—”

  “Etana,” Rafen said, taking her arm gently in his healthy hand. “You must understand. I have to face up to what he’s said about me. You told me I had lost the hearts of the people of Siana. I have to regain them at the trial and show them I’m not a criminal. I have to give Siana a chance to believe me. I’m going to try my hardest to prove to the law that I’m worthy of you at the trial.”

  His voice became husky. No matter what he had said to her in the Mountains, he had never wanted to separate. It was tearing his heart out.

  “I want to get you out of here,” he said. “There must be a safer place than this. I’ll find your ring and you can journey to Cyril’s—”

  “Rafen, no,” Etana said. “I can’t. Richard has said that if I leave again, he’ll tell his father to send across a large Sartian army that will finish my family and my father’s old supporters. Rafen, I can’t p
ush Richard, because I know he would do it.”

  “You can’t stay here,” he said sharply.

  “And you can’t go on house arrest! Rafen, you have to make a choice. Do you want my safety assured or the safety of Siana assured? If Richard brings over men, you will never win Siana. He has a huge number of resources in Sarient. If you don’t win Siana, you won’t have a foothold from which to begin the battle against Nazt. Everything depends on this now, Rafen.”

  She watched him closely, and it occurred to Rafen that she was very brave.

  “I hate it,” Rafen said. “I hate the very idea of it.”

  “I’m right. You know I am.”

  Rafen breathed deeply, trying to still the nervous ticking of his own body.

  “After the trial, I’ll go back to Cyril, and you will come with me. I’ll convince the people it’s right, Etana. Richard won’t want to turn them against him yet.”

  Red-eyed, Etana turned away. “You’re too noble for your own good,” she said in a dead tone, and Rafen knew she was referring to his surrendering to house arrest. “Wherever you go, Rafen, apply that ointment every ten minutes.”

  “It’s the same stuff – the philosopher – Lewis—” he spat the name with hatred, “—kept applying. It didn’t help.”

  “It can’t have been the same ointment,” Etana said, whirling around. “This particular ointment, the herb it is taken from is—”

  “It feels the same.”

  “Like fire,” Francisco said. “Only with you, it actually inflames your skin rather than makes it better.”

  Etana looked down at Rafen’s hand and gasped. In the few seconds she had left off rubbing, his skin had begun blistering.

  “Don’t look,” Rafen said, covering it with his right hand.

  “It isn’t supposed to do that!”

  “It is because it is a different wound,” Francisco said. “It does not look like it, but it is. It is a deeper wound, maybe.”

  “It… might affect me worse because of the Soul Breaker’s Curse,” Rafen said. “It feels like something… living…”

  Sherwin stared at him. “It’s another curse in its own right, isn’ it, Etana?”