The Book of the Rune

by Eric Asher

  It only took a moment for Ward to orient himself. He watched Death’s Door pass by on his right as Casper continued on. It was an odd thing to see the lights off in the building. He’d known Zola a long time, and she never would have let the shop close. But it was Damian’s now, and Damian, well, he was somewhat indisposed.

  Casper parked in front of a building that held the archives of the city. She led him up the short staircase, briefly greeting one of the employees inside the door before taking him to a metal staircase.

  It wasn’t long before they were well and truly underground. The cinder and concrete walls gave way to earth and tunnels of golden stone, and Ward started to doubt whether or not he actually would be able to break out of this place if he needed to.

  “It looks like stone from Gorias.”

  “Aeros helped us carve the tunnels. We’re not sure where the ruins came from. Maybe an old experiment of Nudd’s?” Casper shrugged.

  They turned a corner, and Casper stopped. She glanced behind them, and after a moment, she shoved Ward through a narrow door set in the wall. Inside was a simple cot and a low bookcase. An oil lamp flickered in the dark, the only source of light when Casper slid the door closed.

  “You’re Ward,” Casper said.

  “Ah, umm, yes, I am.” He frowned at Casper; her words rushed as they poured out.

  “We know there’s someone else here. We’ve had a few soldiers die mysteriously, and we don’t know what the hell happened. Autopsy showed a stroke on one, and just good old fashioned cardiac arrest on two more.”

  Ward was familiar with the conditioning required of active soldiers, and to say those conditions were unlikely to occur was a vast understatement.

  “Now, tell me what the hell you’re doing here. This room is clean. It’s one of the few places in the entire base. And I don’t think it’s safe to talk outside, either.”

  Ward reached into his cloak and pulled out the small bundle of cloth. He untied the leather string and rolled it out until Casper could clearly see the old pilot’s glasses inside.

  “Is this a joke?” she hissed.

  “No,” Ward said. “I made them a long time ago. A way to see bonds of line energy even when they’re inert. The runes carved in the lenses will change your vision, or Edgar’s, if we can find him.”

  “You already have,” a voice said behind Ward, and a frisson of terror lanced its way down Ward’s back.

  He spun, and found the Watcher there beside the lamp. Only it wasn’t a lamp, it was the dimmest ball of the power of a mage solis he’d ever seen. “Shit, Edgar. Shit.”

  “It is good to find another ally in this place.”

  “Yeah, right. Another ally. Are you sure this isn’t how those soldiers died of a heart attack?”

  “One of them was nineteen years old, Ward,” Casper said.

  The sarcastic bite of Ward’s words died on his lips. He took a deep breath and turned his focus back to Edgar. “I etched these so—”

  “I heard you tell Casper. What do you want us to do with it? Merely seeing the lines won’t give us a solution.”

  Ward frowned and tilted his head. “Excuse me?”

  “It won’t eradicate the magicks of the Fae. Nudd is clearly too powerful for us to counter whatever controls he’s used to infiltrate the base.”

  Ward nodded. “Of course, you’re right.” He turned to face Casper. “Now, don’t shoot me. But what about the magic blades you used in the Burning Lands?”

  Confusion crossed Casper’s face, but before she could respond, Edgar did.

  “Nothing so simple would be effective here.”

  Only, Casper hadn’t been there, had never been there. Ward closed his eyes and muttered. “Fuck. Don’t shoot me.”

  “Why would I—”

  But before Casper finished the question, Ward’s hand slid into his cloak as he spun on Edgar. His fingers snapped together, and a tangle of focused line energy cut through the sun god with the hiss of a frying steak.

  “On the ground!” Casper screamed.

  “Watch!” Ward shouted back as he went down on his knees.

  And the sun god changed … his flesh paled, no longer the deep browns of his natural state, but the pale gray of an Unseelie infiltrator as he fell to pieces, the body screaming as it dissolved.

  “What the fuck!” Casper shouted. “What the fuck! He’s not a goddamned Fae!”

  “Because that wasn’t Edgar!” Ward said, his forehead to the ground now. He could attack Casper, overpower her, but he needed her trust if this was going to go any further.

  “Look, quickly,” Ward said, holding the sunglasses out to Casper. There was a brief hesitation before she snatched them away.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “You should see a fading blue arc lancing out to the ley lines.”

  “I do.”

  “Find another compelled commoner, and you can follow that line back to the infiltrators.”

  “Get up,” Casper said as the arms of the glasses clicked closed. She handed them back to Ward as he turned around. “There are less suicidal ways to go about revealing an imposter.”

  “You would have locked me up at his order.”

  Casper grimaced.

  Ward returned the glasses to her. “You wear them for now. It’s not safe here. Once that spy fails to check in, all hell is going to come for you and your company.”

  Casper pinched the bridge of her nose. “I hate this shit.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Casper took the lead, keeping the sunglasses on and firmly hooked behind her ears. They passed a poster on the way down another hall. It took Ward a moment to realize the helmeted gunslinger posing below the phrase “Heroes Stand Up” was Casper.

  “Heroes stand—”

  “Please don’t,” Casper said. “It’s bad enough they made me the face of that idiotic campaign. I shot one Fae from a distance, and then they turn it into that.” She shook her head.

  “Propaganda’s important,” Ward said. “Hell, you’d never get new recruits without it.”

  “There are better ways to build your ranks than lies, Ward. Much better ways. Education, healthcare, a fucking insurance policy? I’d be happier with anything that didn’t glorify murder.”

  “But you’re a sniper. One of the best.”

  “And I’ll have to live with that until the end of my days,” Casper said.

  “How can you think like that?”

  “I’ve seen enough war.” Casper blew out a breath through her nose. “I only hope we can spare the next generation from it.”

  They walked in silence for a time. It wasn’t just the commoners who were so twisted. Ward remembered the sight of that fairy cutting off his own child’s head. It was an image he’d never escape. What beast waited on the other end of that compulsion?

  Casper glanced back at Ward. “The world can be an awful place, but that’s no reason to stop fighting for it.”

  The rhythmic beat of boots on stone echoed down the hall, and their conversation trailed off until the soldiers had passed. Casper stared back at the group, frozen.

  “One of them a spy?” Ward asked.

  “Two of them have those lines … how bad is this, Ward?”

  Ward gave her a half-smile. “It’s certainly not good.”

  Casper grimaced and increased their pace. It wasn’t much longer before they pushed their way into a room filled with monitors from wall to wall. Only a few people were inside, and Ward admired how quickly Casper appraised the room before taking her glasses off.

  She threw the deadbolts behind her, and the clacking drew the focus of every soldier in that place. One, a man with the marks of a master sergeant, looked mightily annoyed.

  “Casper, what the hell are you doing? You’re on river duty. You need to be the face of this company, of this entire armed force, though I know you don’t like it.”

  “Park, this is Ward. One of Zola’s friends.”

  Park’s protests died away w
ith that statement. “Do you have word from Zola?”

  Ward shook his head. “I’ve spoken to her, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  Park frowned. “And why is that?”

  Ward gestured to the glasses in Casper’s hand. “A way to find your spies. I’m sorry to say that it’s my old apprentice who has been amplifying those Fae magics well enough to reach you here.”

  Park took a deep breath. “And how are sunglasses going to help us?” He glanced around the room.

  “It’s safe,” Casper said. “No one here is affected. The glasses kind of, well, if someone is under a compulsion, they light up. It’s a blue line that cuts back into the ley lines around here.”

  “And you can see them?” Park asked. “Are you sure this isn’t because you’re part of the old blood or whatever the hell Aideen called it?”

  Casper looked to Ward.

  “No, it’s not,” he said. “Any commoner could wear those glasses and see the lines.”

  Casper rubbed her fingers together. “Like the ghost circle you made for Zola?”

  “Not exactly, but I suppose that’s a fair comparison.”

  “What do we do when we find them?” Park asked.

  “Well,” Ward said, “I was hoping you might know where to find Edgar.”

  “He’s probably in his study again.” Park glanced at his phone. “Seems to spend all his time there the past couple days.”

  “Remember when Edgar said he was going to visit Morrigan to help with the Obsidian Inn?” Casper asked. “And you yelled at him for abandoning his post?”

  “Yes, well, at least he had a change of heart. It would have been insane for him to leave us here knowing we likely had more spies around.”

  “He didn’t have a change of heart,” Ward said. “I killed the imposter, but you have more.”

  “You killed Edgar?” Park said, one eyebrow rising. “I find that unlikely.”

  “As you should. If it had been him, he wouldn’t have died.”

  Park studied Ward for a short time before pulling out his phone and turning it on speaker. “We’ll see if what you say is true.”

  But before Park had finished talking, Edgar picked up. “I’m on my way back, Master Sergeant. I trust you haven’t burned the base down in the meantime?”

  “Shit,” Park muttered. “Hurry it up. Ward just killed a clone of you.”

  “A what?” Edgar asked, his voice rising.

  “An imposter,” Ward said. “It was a strong glamour, but we got lucky.”

  “I’m on my way. Stay somewhere safe. What do you hope for me to do about this?”

  “I have some glasses that show any lines of compulsion and the path to their anchor.”

  “Sunglasses,” Casper said.

  Edgar was silent. “You couldn’t have made them reading glasses or something less conspicuous.”

  Casper laughed. “You’ve never been one for inconspicuous. Who wears bowlers anymore?”

  Edgar didn’t rise to the bait.

  Ward grinned at Casper. “If you can identify the imposters, you can burn them out. And unless I’m wrong, your skills as a mage solis can burn away any compulsion from their unwilling spies. If I did that, I’m afraid the power of the wards would kill them.”

  “Prepare the wards anyway,” Edgar said. “If anything goes wrong, you may need them.”

  Ward didn’t tell Edgar he already had a few etched onto metal discs in his pocket. They’d do in a pinch, but he had little doubt they would kill any commoner caught in the dissolution of the magic.

  “Should we move to the barracks?” Casper asked. “See if we can locate any of the spies?”

  “Not yet,” Park said. “For now, we wait here. I don’t want any more of our men to die if there’s another way. Sit tight until Edgar arrives.”

  “Shouldn’t be long, knowing him,” Ward said. “He’s quite resourceful.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Park muttered, turning his attention back to the screens on the far wall. A few whispers filled the room while they waited, the darkness lit only by the haunting glow of the monitors.

  * * *

  What felt like it could have been hours ticked by, but it just as likely could have been a fraction of a single hour. Ward hadn’t been watching the clock. He’d fallen into the rhythmic clack of keyboards whispering orders.

  It wasn’t until three heavy knocks sounded against the steel door that he stirred. By the time he’d come back around to being alert, Casper was already at the door, gun drawn and a hand on the deadbolt.

  She waited for Park to nod, adjusted the sunglasses on her nose, and opened the door.

  Edgar was there, his umbrella resting in one hand while his other lifted the pristine black bowler from his head. He stood patiently while Casper studied him.

  “He looks weird,” Casper said.

  “He’s a god,” Ward said, groaning as he stood.

  “An immortal,” Edgar said. “There is a difference.”

  Casper pulled her glasses off. “I meant no disrespect.”

  “I know, think nothing of it.” Edgar offered a small smile, holding his hand out, and Casper placed the aviator glasses gently into his palm. “I would expect this sort of ironic humor from Damian, Warded Man.”

  Ward grinned at Edgar. “Damian learned every ounce of that from Adannaya. Maybe I spent a few too many years in her company.”

  Edgar grimaced and looped the glasses over his ears one at a time. “Park, you know this may kill your soldiers? Trying to burn out the compulsion, as Ward says?”

  “They’re already lost,” Casper said. “Would killing the imposters bring them back?”

  Edgar sighed. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then we have nothing to lose,” Park said. “And they have everything to gain.”

  “As you say.” Edgar sat the bowler back on his head and ran his fingertips down the front of his three-piece suit. “Let the hunt begin.”

  Casper led the group of four into the hall while Park locked the command center behind them. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see Park and Edgar together, but it was highly suspect to see Edgar in sunglasses.

  The second person they passed commented on them. “Nice shades.”

  “Eye surgery,” Edgar said without missing a beat. “An unfortunate sun gazing event.”

  “I’m so sorry!” the private said. “I meant nothing by it.”

  As soon as they rounded the corner, Ward punched Edgar in the arm. “Who has ironic humor now?”

  “Leave me be.”

  Casper grinned at Ward as they continued down the hall.

  “Where should we start?” Edgar asked.

  “The mess,” Park said without hesitation. “Most of the men won’t be armed.”

  “Some will?” Ward asked.

  “The guards posted around the perimeter of the mess,” Casper said. “In case we get infiltrated again.”

  Ward nodded and followed the group down another long hall and into the mess hall.

  Edgar tensed. “Shit.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Park played it cool, even though Ward could see the master sergeant’s back stiffen in an instant. But that façade was apparently everything Park could muster, because he essentially froze after that.

  “I’m going to need time.” Edgar’s voice was only a whisper. “Buy me what time you can.”

  The table nearest to them looked up at the Master Sargent, as if waiting for him to say something. Edgar walked toward the far end of the room, and only a handful of eyes followed the Watcher.

  But it was that simple motion that had revealed the depths of the problem at hand. Most of the soldiers sat straight, looking expectantly to Park, but others focused on Edgar. Tracked Edgar around the room. Not the casual glance of the curious, but the battle-forged appraisal of a threat.

  If Ward was right, half the damn room was under a compulsion. If Ward was right, a shit ton of people were about to die. The nearest of those trac
king Edgar started to rise.

  But what Ward didn’t see was Casper’s fist. She belted him across the cheek and screamed, “Knife!”

  His flesh stung where she’d struck him, but he didn’t strike her back. He let her tackle him, fell to the floor where her lips grazed his ear.

  “Go with it. Sell it.”

  Park tried to pull Casper off, but she elbowed him in the gut. He grunted and stumbled back as Ward summoned a shield by crossing his arms and grabbing either shoulder. The burst of blue light popped Casper up into the air where he kicked her in the side as she fell.

  Yellow bursts of light ignited close to the food lines in the back of the room, and as the attention of every soldier was pulled in three different directions, the room exploded into chaos.

  “Get the guns,” Park hissed, dragging Ward backward by his cloak.

  “Throw me your gun!” Casper screamed in response, holding an arm out to the nearest armed soldier.

  He didn’t hesitate, whipping the sidearm over the table where it smacked into her hand. Casper fired once, just over Ward’s shoulder, sending a cloud of coffee creamer into the air and giving Ward the opportunity to disarm her.

  Casper ran toward the next armed guard while two soldiers came at Ward with bare hands. The first went for a gut punch and came away with a broken wrist when wards ignited beneath the strike.

  One soldier after another fell at the back of the room as Edgar worked his way to each, explosions of light carving lines through the air as the compulsions burned away. They crashed to the floor limp, unmoving, and Ward said a silent prayer they weren’t dead.

  A pistol barked three times, and the soldier’s face in front of Ward vanished in an explosion of viscera, a cavern of gore left behind as he collapsed.

  “Spy!” Park screamed, leveling his pistol at the gunman. The shot took the man in the shoulder, forcing him to fall into the wall.

  Edgar hurdled a table and sprinted down the aisle, breaking the nose of a soldier who reached out to stop him. Brilliant light exploded from Edgar’s fingertips, blinding the entire room.