The Runic Trilogy: Books I to III (The Runic Series)

by Clayton Wood

  “An excellent idea, Councilman Ibicus,” Goran agreed. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I won't go to my room here, waiting to be murdered in my sleep.”

  “I say we take a vote,” Councilman Mudd suggested. Goran nodded, raising his hand.

  “All in favor?” he asked. All eleven hands joined him. “Then it's decided.”

  “Our next act,” Erasmus stated, “...as much as it pains me to say it, is to vote for a replacement Runic for the Jax's seat on the Council.” Goran nodded.

  “And an Elder Councilman to lead us,” he added. “As Jax's replacement will not be eligible for elder Councilman, I suggest we choose the most senior – and eldest – Councilman here...Councilman Ibicus.”

  “Of course you would,” Erasmus retorted angrily. Kalibar put a hand on Erasmus's shoulder, making him pause. Kalibar certainly knew why his old friend was furious; Ibicus was on Goran's side. With Ibicus as elder Councilman, the balance of power would shift away from them, making the Council far more difficult to work with. In fact, it could render them all but impotent, if the Council elected a Runic that was also sympathetic to Goran's cause. The Council was already split 6-6 in terms of those sympathetic to the Grand Weaver and Runic, and those sympathetic to Goran. A tie vote on any issue would be decided in favor of the elder Councilman's vote; with Jax on their side, Kalibar and Erasmus had won consistently on their proposals. With Ibicus, they wouldn't have that edge...and if the Council chose a Runic sympathetic to Goran, the Council would be split 5-7 in Goran's favor, with Ibicus swinging any occasional tie votes Goran's way.

  Either way, it would be disastrous.

  Kalibar sighed, knowing that a 5-7 split was all but inevitable. He'd thought through the implications of Jax's murder as soon as he'd heard of it...after the initial shock had passed. Ibicus was a shoe-in for Elder Councilman. No other would be chosen. This would bring the Council 5-6 in favor of Goran. Voting for a new Councilman entailed each member of the Council submitting the name of their nominee, then counting the votes for a majority.

  Kalibar closed his eyes for a moment, then looked across the table at nothing in particular.

  Goran had undoubtedly already conferred with his fellow Elitists on the Council, letting each know his preference for a nominee. They would all choose the same person, to maximize their chances of winning. Even if there happened to be a tie, Ibicus, also an Elitist, would decide the vote.

  A master stroke, by a master strategist, Kalibar thought. Xanos had bested him yet again.

  He and Erasmus had lost the Council, even if Erasmus hadn't realized it yet. As brilliant as his old friend was, he was not a superb strategist. Erasmus's strength lay in his ability to execute a plan, not to come up with one. Conversely, strategy came easily to Kalibar, whether it was on the battlefield or in the political arena. He was always thinking a half-dozen steps ahead, considering every possible attack and counterattack.

  This battle had already been lost.

  * * *

  “Those bastards!” Erasmus roared, slamming the door to his suite. Kalibar said nothing, walking to one of the many white couches placed throughout the room and sitting down in it. Erasmus didn't follow suit, pacing back and forth in front of Kalibar instead.

  “Can you believe the guile of that man?” he seethed, complaining about Goran. “Jax's body isn't even cold yet, and he's already scrambled to take advantage of his death!” Erasmus turned to Kalibar then, pointed one chubby finger at him. “And you didn't even put up a fight,” he accused. “You just sat there as it happened!”

  Kalibar sighed, being careful not to seem too nonchalant. Doing so would just irk Erasmus more.

  “It was inevitable, Erasmus,” Kalibar replied evenly. “And we have no say in who is elected to Council...you know that,” he chided gently. Erasmus threw up his hands.

  “So we roll over and die?” he shot back. Kalibar paused for a moment, then shook his head.

  “Consider what we've lost,” he stated. “With the Council against us, at best we've got an uphill battle with every decision. At worst, we lost control over the military...save for our Runics and Weavers.”

  “Oh, that's all?” Erasmus stated sarcastically. Kalibar raised an eyebrow.

  “Has it occurred to you,” Kalibar asked, “...what would happen if our soldiers encountered a single Chosen like the Dead Man?” Erasmus snorted.

  “Of course,” he replied. “They'd get slaughtered, without Battle-Weavers backing them up.”

  “Even with backup,” Kalibar agreed, “...our Battle-Weavers would be no match for a Chosen with Xanos possessing them.”

  “You're making me feel better already,” Erasmus grumbled. “What's your point? Should we all grab shovels and start digging our own graves?”

  “Not yet,” Kalibar answered with a smirk. “I have a better idea.”

  “Better than laying down and dying? You don't say,” Erasmus retorted. But the steam had been taken out of him...some of it, anyway. Kalibar motioned for Erasmus to sit on the couch opposite where he was sitting, and the Grand Runic sighed, plopping his plump frame down on the soft cushions. Kalibar leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

  “I've been thinking,” Kalibar stated, “...about that idea Kyle had. You know, the one about reverse-engineering naturally occurring magical patterns.”

  “I remember.”

  “I think I figured out what Kyle was talking about,” Kalibar stated. “Do you have any fresh crystals on you?”

  Erasmus frowned, thrusting his hands into his pockets. Eventually, he retrieved a small yellow crystal, handing it to Kalibar. Kalibar shook his head, giving the crystal back to Erasmus. “Embed the gravity-sphere rune into it,” he commanded. Erasmus shrugged, and soon a small rune began to form itself on the mineral's surface.

  “Stop,” Kalibar ordered.

  “It's not finished,” Erasmus protested. Kalibar smiled.

  “Precisely,” he agreed. “Now, runes in the natural world are too complicated to stumble on by random, right?” he asked. Erasmus nodded.

  “Only the simplest runes could be discovered that way,” he agreed.

  “But when I weave the gravity-sphere pattern in my mind,” Kalibar continued, “...magic theory states that I must be doing the same thing in my mind that magic does in a rune...travel in a tight loop, forming a pattern that, in whole, triggers a similarly-shaped rune.”

  “Right,” Erasmus replied. “It's entry-level Runic theory,” he added rather indignantly. Kalibar smirked.

  “I'm an entry-level Runic,” he remarked. “In any case, it stands to reason that, if I weave the gravity-sphere pattern near this incomplete sensory rune, when I've completed weaving the pattern up to the same point as this rune, it should be triggered.”

  “No,” Erasmus countered. Then he frowned. “I mean, I don't think so,” he added. He scratched his bald head, thinking it over. Then he shrugged. “Actually, I have no idea.”

  “Make another sensory rune,” Kalibar instructed. “The second half of the gravity-sphere rune, as a separate rune from the first.” Erasmus did so, completing the task within seconds. “Now,” Kalibar continued, “...make each sensory rune trigger a light-emitting rune, like we talked about.” Erasmus complied again, shaking his head at Kalibar.

  “Dementia finally kicking in, old buddy?” he quipped. “I'll give it a bit longer before I have you write your will. I always liked your mansion in Bellingham.” Kalibar ignored the comment, knowing full well that Erasmus hated Bellingham, and waited for his friend to finish his task.

  “Now, weave the gravity-sphere pattern,” Kalibar commanded.

  “Do I look like a Weaver to you?” Erasmus protested.

  “Humor me,” Kalibar insisted. Erasmus sighed, closing his eyes. Kalibar frowned. “No, keep your eyes open,” he insisted. “Watch the crystal,” he added. Erasmus complied. A second later, a small gravity sphere appeared between the two men, winking out after a few seconds.

  An
d, right before it had appeared, two bursts of light flashed from the surface of the crystal in Erasmus's hand, one after the other.

  “What?” Erasmus exclaimed, blinking at the crystal. “Well I'll be dipped in...”

  “Not quite demented yet, am I old friend?” Kalibar said with a grin, clapping Erasmus on the shoulder. Erasmus stared at the crystal for a moment longer, then frowned.

  “Alright, so what?” he asked. “I still don't see how this is going to help us.”

  “Well,” Kalibar replied, “...say we take a long crystal slab, and put a bunch of random sensory rune fragments on it.”

  “Okay...”

  “What if, instead of having you weave the gravity sphere pattern, we took some feathergrass, and put it near the sensory runes?”

  Erasmus frowned, thinking it over.

  “If the sensory rune fragments matched whatever pattern the feathergrass wove, they would light up,” he answered.

  “Exactly.”

  “But they'd light up incredibly quickly,” Erasmus pointed out. “Unless you could slow down time, there would be no way to figure out the correct sequence of pattern fragments to make the whole pattern.”

  “Except there is,” Kalibar countered with a grin. Erasmus frowned.

  “No there isn't,” he insisted. Kalibar's grin widened, and Erasmus frowned. “Don't even tell me you figured it out,” he warned, jabbing a finger at Kalibar. “You're a damn Weaver, Kalibar...not a Runic!”

  “You're right, I'm not,” Kalibar agreed. “I'll need your help if it's going to work,” he added. Erasmus continued to frown, and then he leaned forward as well, his blue eyes narrowing.

  “Alright, tell me.”

  “So, we put a bunch of short, random patterns on a sensing board,” Kalibar began. “Feathergrass extract continues to weave its magic pattern – that of affecting gravity – even after the death of the plant.”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Erasmus replied impatiently.

  “Bear with me,” Kalibar insisted. “Now, I put the extract near the sensing board, and a few dozen runes lit up, almost all at once. If I could just slow down time, I could see each rune lighting up, figure out the sequence of runes as they were triggered, and recreate the complex pattern.”

  “But you can't slow down time, so it won't work,” Erasmus concluded rather smugly. Kalibar shook his head.

  “Imagine if we had a long sheet of paper,” he explained. “...and we had it on two rollers.”

  “Okay...”

  “Say we rolled the paper quickly from the right to the left on these rollers,” Kalibar continued. “And that we had a long, single line of effector runes right below the paper that could each burn their unique pattern fragment into the paper.”

  “Right,” Erasmus mumbled.

  “And say that each sensory rune on the array, when triggered, was linked to one of these effector runes...and burned their specific pattern into the paper.”

  “So the paper would record which runes were triggered,” Erasmus reasoned.

  “Exactly,” Kalibar confirmed. “And if you moved the paper quickly from one roller to the other while the sensory runes were being triggered...”

  “Then you could figure out which runes were triggered when!” Erasmus exclaimed, his eyes widening.

  “...because the patterns would be burned from one side of the paper to the other, in the order they were triggered,” Kalibar confirmed. “Then you'd just have to string the printed fragments together...”

  “And you'd have your full pattern!” Erasmus nearly shouted. “You lousy bastard,” he declared, punching Kalibar in the shoulder, making him grunt. “Damned if you're not onto something!” Then he frowned. “But what does this have to do with winning the war?” he asked. “Learning the feathergrass pattern isn't exactly going to strike terror into the hearts of our enemies.”

  “Agreed,” Kalibar conceded. “But I believe there are other naturally occurring patterns that would prove far more suited to that task.” He leaned forward then, whispering into Erasmus's ear. The pudgy Grand Runic's eyes lit up almost instantly.

  “Brilliant!” he exclaimed, clapping his hand on his knee. “Kalibar, you're a genius!”

  “No, I'm not,” Kalibar countered. “Kyle is.” He shook his head slowly. “He had it all figured out...on his first day as a Runic. And it took us this long to follow his train of thought.”

  “For you to follow his train of thought,” Erasmus grumbled. “I didn't even take his idea seriously.”

  “Yes, well,” Kalibar stated. “We need to get working on a prototype of Kyle's invention so that we can create the weapon I was thinking of.”

  “That, my friend,” Erasmus replied with a wink, “...is where I come in!”

  Chapter 14

  Kyle gazed up at the massive, hulking form of the Behemoth, staring at that singular green eye, a jet-black monstrosity plucked from his very nightmares and placed before him. It was larger than he remembered, and the details were different...the arms were more streamlined, the angles sharper...but the overall look was the same.

  The Behemoth's lone eye stared down at Kyle and Darius, its narrow white spotlight held motionless over them. The Dead Man stood beside them, his cold black eyes having never left Kyle's, his expression unreadable. His cloak had resumed its sinuous rippling, despite the still air inside the massive cavern.

  “I have a proposition for you both,” the Dead Man stated, his sunken black eyes lit with glowing semicircles from the Behemoth's light. “If either of you tell me the nature and location of the one Xanos is looking for, you both will be freed immediately. You will not be killed, or harmed in any way. In fact, you will be returned to Stridon, if you choose.”

  Kyle glanced back at Darius, but the bodyguard wasn't even paying attention; he was staring up at the Behemoth, his blue eyes scanning the monstrous creation. Kyle turned back to the Dead Man, unnerved at the ghoulish Weaver's unblinking stare.

  “However,” the Dead Man continued calmly, his smooth, deep voice sending a chill down Kyle's spine, “...if no one chooses to come forward, then Xanos will kill you both. And then He will come for Kalibar, and for your friends. And if they don't talk, He will come for the Empire itself.”

  “That's not fair!” Kyle protested, finding his voice at last.

  “Agreed,” the Dead Man replied. “But it is my offer, Kyle. Xanos demands it.”

  Kyle stared back up at the Behemoth, squinting in the face of that intense spotlight, recalling the vision of Ancient Stridon burning under its deadly gaze. There would be no victory against such an enemy, he knew. The Dead Man was powerful, it was true. But the Behemoth had leveled entire cities, destroying a civilization with magical defenses far advanced of their own. They would be helpless before it.

  He turned to Darius, finding the bodyguard staring back at him silently. Still handcuffed, without his trademark golden armor, the man looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. Kyle thought back to all of the times that Darius had risked his life to save him, thought of what it would feel like to have Darius die here...and knew he could never live with that on his conscience.

  He turned back to the Dead Man.

  “I'm the one you want,” Kyle declared, squaring his shoulders. His heart pounded in his chest, a cold, slick sweat dripping from his armpits down to his flanks. But he forced himself to stand tall. He glanced at Darius, who continued to stare at him silently. Then he turned back to the Dead Man, who merely stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  “Are you?” he murmured. He continued to stare at Kyle, his dead eyes unblinking. Kyle wilted under his gaze, and wondered, not for the first time, if the ghoulish Weaver could read his thoughts. “Then show me,” he stated.

  “Show you what?”

  “Prove it,” the Dead Man answered. Kyle stood there, staring back at the Dead Man, his mouth going dry. Then he lowered his gaze to the floor.

  “I'm not from around here,” he replied at last, trying not to shi
ver in the cold air. He didn't want the Dead Man – or Darius – to think he was afraid...even though he most definitely was.

  “And where are you from, Kyle?” The Dead Man asked, his voice almost gentle again. Kyle glanced at Darius, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. But there was no other way.

  “Another planet,” Kyle stated. He caught Darius rolling his eyes, and blushed. The Dead Man, however, did not appear amused.

  “Another planet,” he stated flatly. “Is that so.”

  “It is,” Kyle insisted, trying his best to sound convincing. “We have technology there that you can only dream of,” he added, more defiantly now. “Bombs that can destroy entire cities...medicines that can cure almost any disease!”

  “I see,” the Dead Man replied. “It's a shame you couldn't have been more honest with me...and more loyal.”

  Kyle felt the color leave his cheeks, his guts twisting in his belly. He'd heard that tone of voice once...right before the Dead Man had ripped Kalibar's eyes out. He took an involuntary step backward.

  “But it's true!” he protested, feeling every muscle in his body tense up. “I'm not lying!” The Dead Man ignored him, turned to face Darius.

  “Do you have anything else to say?” the Dead Man asked. Darius said nothing, his blue eyes locked on the Dead Man's. They stared at each other for a long moment, until the Dead Man turned away with a sigh. “Very well then,” the ghoulish Weaver stated, turning to the green crystals jutting out from the platform at his side. “I suppose it's only fair that I give you a head start.”

  He placed his hand back on the green crystals, and they flashed brightly for a moment, then went dark. A massive circular portion of the ceiling far above their heads began to open up, dilating like an iris until it had opened up to a diameter of over a hundred feet. Kyle stared upward into that massive circular opening, seeing only darkness beyond.