The Path of Destruction (Rune Breaker)

by Porter, Landon

  Kaiel gestured to a distant patch of farmland where Taylin could see what looked like boulders occasionally breaching the water. “Nov publicly fed him to the wild trulls in the river.”

  Taylin was familiar with trulls from her time on the ships. They were massive terrapins, larger than three horses and highly aggressive. The hailene used their shells as hulls for light airskiffs and emergency craft for their larger warships.

  They also laid some sixty eggs in a go, each large enough to feed four people for an entire day. Many fellow slaves had died in expeditions to collect said eggs. Unusual for most reptiles, trulls defended their nests with ferocity.

  “To make sure everyone knew what happened,” said Kaiel, “Nov refused to allow a new Prince to step in and Principality Riven remains a testament to Riven's foolishness to this day.

  It continued on like that for an hour: Taylin and eventually Raiteria asked questions that Brin and Kaiel were happy to answer, no matter how minor. Around them, traffic started to increase as smaller roads and farm causeways spilled more riders and carts into the Passage.

  Most of the mounts they passed were ornises with a few loaded wagons pulled by horses. Ceratos and spiders seemed to be missing altogether.

  At the same time, more people who passed them than not were half-elves, and more and more humans had dark skin like Issacor's had been. To Taylin's dismay, she also spotted more hailene either flying in from the fields or flitting about in the rapidly approaching city.

  There was a new race mixed into the groups they encountered as well; one Taylin had never seen before, but had heard of at length: miare.

  She'd heard them described as 'catfolk', and indeed, they had fine pelts and heads that resembled a feline's. That resemblance was only superficial, however. Taylin noticed that unlike a cat, they had broad, pronounced jaws that gave them all a slight under-bite that no cat possessed. Their tails coiled and flexed on the owner's whim and once or twice, she saw them being used as a clumsier third appendage; something monkeys could do that cats couldn't. Not only that, but their eyes were all large and round in proportion to their heads, giving them a quizzical, owlish look.

  Most of them wore some manner of robe or long kilt that covered their legs all the way to the ground, but when Taylin did get a look at them, she found that they walked on their toes, usually barefoot or while wearing an exotic looking sandal.

  True to what Brin had told her of the miare, every single one offered polite greetings as they passed and those on foot even bowed. For Taylin, who had grown up in a world where everyone tried to appear larger than and dominate one another, it was disconcerting.

  All the same, she returned all of those greeting as Kaiel did, with a polite incline of the head. Raiteria soon joined in, leaving Brin and Ru in unlikely solidarity as they ignored the greetings.

  At half past the third hour of the afternoon, they reached the gates of Market Town.

  There were actually three gates there: a central set through which the Passage of Conquerors passed along with wagons loaded with goods, and then two smaller ones. Stone obelisks flanked the larger gate bearing inscriptions in six different languages that informed visitors to use the side gates under penalty of imprisonment.

  The words were enforced by three squads of five: two soldiers with rifles, two with iron mauls, and one wizard carrying a staff of forked gretharian wood with a blue-glowing orb between the twin tines.

  As they rode up to the right hand gate, Kaiel took the time to display his brooch bearing the crest of the Bardic College. “It won't make the line shorter,” he explained, “but it will serve to make the guards more polite.”

  Taylin nodded absently as she looked up at the city wall. Even for a woman with wings, it gave her a touch of vertigo. Not only were they high, but where Daire City's walls looked seamless, she could tell that Rivenport's wall was actually a single, gigantic slab, probably raised out of the depths of Ere by a cadre of wizards. Atop it were arrayed men and women armed with rifles nearly equal in quality to the one Rai carried, as well as some sort of brass and iron contraptions that looked like larger versions of the forked staves that wizard at the gates carried.

  She wondered just what kind of force the people of Rivenport were expecting that might require that level of defense.

  In the middle of her musing, a young half-elven man came running up to them, dodging carts and pushing aside people on foot. His skin was acorn brown and his ears stuck out from his head in a clear giveaway as to his heritage.

  “Chronicler Arunsteadeles!” He called, waving. With a few more bounding steps, he stopped before them in a dramatic swirl of his red and gold cape, which was embroidered with the pattern of a dragonfly's wing. Even having run through a crowd of dusty, grubby farm workers, he'd remained impeccable. Beneath the cape, he wore a black silk shirt under a red velvet vest with gold toggles, a pair of loose black pants cut in the local style, and highly polished riding boots.

  Kaiel reined in his horse at the sound of his name and raised an impressed eyebrow at the flourish. “That would be me, yes. And you are...”

  “Chronicler Eddic Bairoe.” Said the young man, “I've worked with your mother at the university here.”

  A small but warm smile came to Kaiel's face. “Ah, so she got my message. How is she?”

  Bairoe shook his head. “Your mother didn't send me, Chronicler. The College affiliate here did... at the request of Librarian Yolinderan.”

  That made Kaiel come up short. He spoke carefully as if entering a verbal minefield. “The senior librarian of the Historical Society's central library? What would he want with me?”

  “Not for me to say, Chronicler. I'm to bring you to him directly. No stops, not even to stable your mounts.”

  Ru glared at Kaiel. “What did you do, Arunsteadeles?”

  “Nothing.” Kaiel said. “I sent a request ahead of us to the Historical Society for maps to Nhan Raduul and any information they might have on the Soul Battery. We need to know what that is before we do anything else. Otherwise, we'll arrive empty-handed.”

  Bairoe coughed politely. “Librarian Yolinderan has personally taken over all research regarding your request.”

  “Of course.” Brin groaned. “It would have to be dangerous to justify all this rigamarole.”

  The other chronicler only nodded and reached into his vest to extract a plaque in red and purple with a black, swirling symbol painted on it. “If you'll follow me then.” He didn't wait for an answer before turning and starting toward the larger gate, presenting the plaque to the guards.

  ***

  As the companions followed Bairoe into Market Town, their progress was followed by a man sitting in an alley between a tavern and a feed store. Most people avoided him, thinking him a beggar. If they looked closer, they would have seen his well-muscled physique and the healthy cast of his skin.

  None of that could betray his true nature. He had been created with that in mind.

  Zect tipped his wide, straw hat up a bit to watch the Rune Breaker and those with him pass. For just a moment, he caught Ru's eye. He raised his gourd in greeting, then lowered the brim of his hat as the dark mage glared. From the way his master flinched, she'd felt the spike in his anger.

  “Be as angry as you want, Ru.” Zect said, uncorking the gourd and inhaling the scent of lamp oil from within. “Whatever Immurai has planned, he intended only you and your master to get this far. The spirit beasts and bandits would have seen to that.”

  The renegade demon raised the gourd to Ru's retreating back and took a drink.

  A moment later, an old man glanced down the alley, face sour with disapproval for what he saw as a vagrant getting drunk in his own filth. Zect smirked, then belched a tiny fireball into the air for his benefit.

  Chapter 15 – The Soul Battery

  'We agreed to allow the surrogates to raise the children they brought to term in order to maximize socialization and promote healthy mental development.

  Unfort
unately, the surrogate for the sixth child died of infection despite our best efforts. The staff has been taking turns caring for her, but these children need a stable parental figure. I have decided to elect myself for the task because she has endeared herself to me.

  Though unfortunately cursed with markings of her special heritage, she is bright, responsive, and even at such a young age, inquisitive. In order to correct this issue and spare her the pain of what it is to be ang'hailene, I have secretly procured dye for her hair and wings.'

  ~ excerpt from the journal of Lena Hiddakko.

  ***

  With Bairoe in the lead, they passed briskly through the streets of Market Town.

  The buildings in that part of the city were a manageable four or five floors tall at most, and they were made of unfired clay, wood, or stone (sometimes all three at once). Aside from respecting the lay of the streets, the buildings followed no unified style or layout. Butchers’ shops butted up against smithies while outfitters shared the same block as breweries. And on every corner, there was a vegetable merchant hawking his or her wares.

  Eventually, they reached a high, arched bridge and left the piecemeal Market Town behind.

  The bridge was stone and made of a single piece, just like the city walls. The raised railings had notches along the top at regular intervals. It took Taylin until she was halfway across to realize they were there to steady gun barrels and crossbows.

  By then, she was also noticing that the bridge arched up high above the water; high enough for ships to sail beneath.

  “But how can the ships get anywhere if the falls are right there?” She wondered aloud as she caught sight of a sizable ship on the river to their north with seemingly nowhere to go.

  “Quite simple, really.” Bairoe said, “They use the lock.”

  Taylin gave him and then the river a skeptical look. “Lock?”

  “Take a closer look at the middle of the falls.” Brin said, guiding Miser closer to Taylin and Gaddigan. “See that kind of box shape in the mist?”

  The swordswoman squinted. Yes, she could. It looked like a very simple keep, built directly in the path of the waterfall. If it had been a keep, the lower floors would have been flooded and the rest overtaken by mold and snakes. She nodded.

  Brin continued. “It's one huge chamber, called a 'lock', that can be sealed by siege engineers like the era-users we met with Solgrum's army. When a ship wants to go upriver, they sail into the lock and pay the engineers. The chamber seals and the river water is diverted into the chamber with sweeps up top. The chamber fills and the water level raises the ship up to the level of the falls. From there it just sails out.

  “And if a ship wants to come down the river, they sail into the lock at its high point and sluice gates open at the bottom to lower the ship down.”

  As much as Taylin wanted to ask more questions, she also took note of the nervous and impatient looks Bairoe was throwing them. She and Brin had slowed down during the explanation and he looked unhappy at that. How many days had he waited at the gates for them to arrive?

  Out of respect for his urgency and the fact that the situation was far more important than her education in nautical engineering, she only replied with an impressed noise and increased her pace.

  The bridge led them to a larger island, this one dominated by towers; some reaching seven floors high. They were arranged in groups of four or six, surrounded by low walls with grassy expanses between where children played in small communal gardens. At the intersections of the streets, stalls made of wood or carefully placed stones sold hot potatoes, bread bowls full of thick, meaty stew, and grilled vegetables. Other stalls, more rare than the food peddlers', sold dime novels and news sheets along with seemingly whatever homemade crafts the proprietor could muster.

  Bairoe pointedly ignored all the offers shouted to him from the stalls, so the rest of the group did as well. Taylin watched a particularly large display of novels go by with a pang of longing. Once Motsey was back and safe, she was going to use some of the money left to her to buy a stack of them.

  A few more turns, down streets that seemed to have been laid out more by accident than design, brought them to another bridge. This one didn't arch very high, as it didn't span a distance wide enough for larger boats to be an issue.

  In the smaller channel, Taylin saw people navigating short, narrow boats from one island to another. The boats didn't seem to belong to anyone. Whenever one person tied up at an island another might climb into that same boat a moment later and cast off.

  After a short walk, they found themselves on a man-made island. It was a rounded triangle with each point featuring a bridge to another island. On closer inspection, the ground was made of fired, unglazed clay like the watchtowers along the Passage of Conquerors.

  There was only one building on the island. Its architecture was unique even compared to the general hodgepodge of Rivenport: three two-story wings split off from the central, three-story building with each wing aligned at a right angle from the points of the island. They were made of rounded slabs of sandstone highlighted by a layer of cement between them. In a city where most important public structures were either made of a single piece or designed to look that way, this one went out of its way to show exactly how it was put together.

  “The central library of the Historical Society of Kinos.” Kaiel announced for Taylin and Rai's benefits. “Only the Library at Siram Leggate, the Denaiian temple at Spinar, and the Bardic College Archives can boast a larger or better cataloged collection of written knowledge on Ere.”

  Ru snorted. “The Codex Mishna was drilled one thousand feet into Mount Kaam. Every level was filled.”

  “And where is it now?” Kaiel said irritably.

  The dark mage made a rude noise, but didn't dignify that with an answer. Nothing of his world remained. There was now only Ere and its history, starting with Saint's Landing.

  Bairoe gave Ru a curious look for bragging about a library he'd never heard of, but led them around to the entrance; a high, arched doorway set into the north-facing side of the main body of the building where they had to hitch their mounts and divest themselves of all weapons before moving to the doors.

  Sigils etched into the door frame hummed with power the moment it was opened, and as they passed through it, the difference between inside and outside was pronounced. Where Rivenport's riverside atmosphere was humid and warm, the interior of the library was bone dry and cool like a deep cellar.

  The entryway left them standing on a dais some ten feet across with polished brass railings on all sides but directly ahead, where a massive wooden desk seemed to stand sentry over a set of stairs down to the library floor.

  Said floor was populated by stacks, each row three times Taylin's height, and arranged around islands where there were tables, cabinets and comfortable reading chairs. More stacks lined the two additional stories of galleries above; all of those were flanked by alcoves for private study.

  There were no windows, only lamps lit by floating balls of magical light like those Kaiel used, but many times more bright. Three wide arches lead out into corridors connecting to the other wings.

  A female miare in muted purple and navy robes sat at the desk, her thick fingers laced in front of her as she leaned over a large, open book covered with letters from an alphabet Taylin didn't know. Her dark eyes peered at the tome through small, round glasses designed to perch on her pronounced nose, and occasionally, one of her ears flicked, causing the two silver rings in it to clink gently together.

  Only when Bairoe gave a polite but urgent cough did she glance up. “Chronicler.” She greeted with a cold kind of familiarity that said that she was aware he existed and that was enough information for her.

  Bairoe didn't seem put off by the aloof acknowledgment. “Librarian Dreyfiss. I'm here with Chronicler Arunsteadeles and his people. Librarian Yolinderan requested them.” After an awkward moment, he added, “...Concerning the Soul Battery.”

  The libraria
n's ear flicked again. “I'll call someone to bring them down to him. Librarian Dasahyur has enough assistants assigned to her that she should be able to make time.”

  Without ever looking at Taylin or the others, she opened a drawer in the desk and drew out a bell. The device was constructed of crystal planes with the symbol for vox worked into it in copper wire. The stem was cherrywood with dials made of what might have been bone worked into it.

  She had to work the dials carefully, using her long, thick nails to set the dials to a satisfactory configuration. Once that was done, she rang the bell once. It's clear peel, more loud than something of its size should make, filled their ears, but didn't seem strong enough to reach those of someone deep within the library.

  Satisfied that her part was done, the miare librarian returned to her reading.

  They stood in uncomfortable silence for several minutes until a dark-skinned woman appeared out of the stacks and headed toward them.

  She, like Librarian Dreyfiss, was dressed in purple and navy blue, but her style was radically different. The long, tight fitting sleeves of a navy undershirt extended to her wrists, and was covered by a deep purple blouse that was long enough to hang past her hips, where a navy skirt with purple paisley fell to an inch above the floor.

  Dark eyes complemented her skin, which was darker by far than Bairoe's. Her hair was black and cut short on the sides and back while allowed to grow into curly bangs in the front.

  When she had reached the top of the stairs, she nodded to Bairoe. “I trust these are Librarian Yolinderan's guests, Chronicler Bairoe?” Her voice was low, calm and imperious, like Taylin always imagined the Empress of the Hailene Empire must have sounded.

  “As the College ordered.” he replied.