by Sandell Wall
Sentras walked back to the front of the classroom. “That’s enough for today.” He looked pointedly at Remus and said, “I expect all of you back here at the same time tomorrow.” Remus scowled, but said nothing. What Sentras said next surprised him. “Remus, if you would please wait a bit, I would like to have a word with you in private.”
Remus was caught off guard.
How does he know my name? What could he possibly have to say after only one class?
The other students smirked at Remus as they filed out of the classroom. Most of them would be amused at the prospect of Remus being put in his place. He had more rivals than friends in Delgrath. There were looks of sympathy from students that had traveled from bordering provinces. But Remus glared at them all equally.
When the classroom was empty, neither Sentras nor Remus had moved. Sentras was still standing in the exact spot from which he had dismissed the class. The teacher said nothing, but his gaze was intense. Remus was already annoyed; now he was getting angry. Sentras had asked him to stay, and now he was standing there like a statue!
The silence stretched as Remus’s fury grew. Finally, he blurted, “You asked me to stay, and now say nothing? What’s the point of this?”
In response Sentras crossed his arms and leaned back to rest his weight on the table behind him, never breaking eye contact with Remus.
Finished with being patient, Remus leapt out of his seat and said, “I have no time for your games, old man!”
Sentras let out a sharp bark of a laugh at this. “Sit down, boy. If you know what’s good for you, sit down.”
Remus slowly sat back down as Sentras started to talk.
“Yes, I know your name. I know a little of your history. Enough to know that for you to become an apprentice smith the guild must overlook your unknown origins.”
Remus tried to protest, but Sentras held up a hand.
“Stop. Holmgrim told me these things. I’m here as a favor to him. Just as I can turn away any recruit, I also have the influence, and the knack for bureaucracy, to induct a candidate that does not meet the standard criteria. In your case, being an orphan, you are obviously unable to claim ties to the guild through your family tree.”
Sentras lifted himself from the table and walked back to the window. “It’s not unprecedented,” he said as he walked, “for us to accept a recruit without family ties. But it’s only done in very special cases, and must be done discreetly. There are more than enough potential recruits from families that can claim the hereditary right, and to exclude one of them in favor of an orphan can be punished as a crime in some provinces.”
Fists clenched in righteous indignation, Sentras turned from the window and tore into Remus like he was a fresh Legion recruit who had stepped out of line, “And yet you walk in here like you own the place, glower at me throughout the lecture, and show gross disrespect, to my face, when I ask you to wait after class. You have clearly demonstrated your lack of maturity, patience, and tact. I can see from the look on your face that deep down inside you consider yourself above this class.”
Sentras sighed, opening his hands and letting go of his anger. “So I’m warning you: I will only do this favor that Holmgrim asks of me if you impress me enough to warrant a breach of protocol. Holmgrim has shown me your work. I have no doubt you have the makings of a master smith in you. But talent alone will not carry you through. You must demonstrate a strength of character, and a compassion for your fellows, that will allow me to recommend you as an asset to the guild.”
Tears stung Remus’s eyes as Sentras’s words sank in. He was biting back angry retorts he knew would only make things worse. He said, “Can I go?”
“Aye, lad, you can go,” Sentras said, a sad look on his face.
Remus’s movements were jerky as he jumped out of his seat and ran for the door. He knocked his shin on a chair left in the aisle and cursed at the pain and indignity.
Remus slowed as he exited the academy. He was angry at himself for crying. The tears would not blink away, so he stopped to scrub at his eyes. Unaware of the world around him, he launched down the street lost in a haze of hurt and anger.
Holmgrim never told me the guild does not accept orphans. So all the work I have done means nothing if Sentras does not bend the rules to get me in?
The idea that he needed a favor from anyone made him seethe. Only Holmgrim and Axid knew that he was an orphan. He wanted no special treatment or sympathy. His goal had always been to earn his own way, to prove himself with intelligence and ability. To have that taken from him was infuriating.
His mind churned as he stormed through the middle of town.
I don’t need this. I don’t want this. I never asked to be a blacksmith. I never wanted to join the guild. But there was nothing else. There is nothing else.
Despair and anger coursed through him. He could see no other path to take. Right at that instant he neared the smithy, and in his anger he remembered the mysterious rune drawing. The drawing he definitely had no business looking at. He knew the smithy would be deserted now. A smile of grim determination slowly formed on his face as he slipped inside the dark building.
I’ll make my own way, he promised to himself. Maybe I’ll have to play along for a while. But one thing is sure—I will forge my own destiny.
Chapter 2
“YOU HAVE BECOME MY EYES, my ears, and my hands of justice and retribution.” The voice thundered with absolute authority.
Hand of the emperor.
The thought flashed through Aventine’s mind as she stood at attention before the emperor’s throne. The emperor continued, but she did not hear him, lost in the heady emotions of becoming a part of something greater than herself. She could feel the weight of history and tradition settle on her shoulders. Not only was she entering the ranks of the most elite fighting force in the empire, she was following in the footsteps of her mother.
Only the best serve the emperor, and I’m one of them!
She felt a great welling up of emotion as love for the empire and loyalty to the emperor washed over her.
Resplendent in his golden platemail, the emperor looked out over the throne room from where he stood before his throne. His armor was a work of art, the intricate pattern of runes glowing a vibrant red as they traced paths of molten fire across his gleaming body. The Bloodstar of Alkomia, the legendary runestone of House Amalt, flared a brilliant red at the pinnacle of his golden crown. A pure white cloak bearing the white tower of House Amalt hung from his regal shoulders.
Aventine was overwhelmed by the throne room’s majesty. Subtle runes woven into the stonework eliminated the need for torches. Illuminated from every angle but the floor, the room pulsed with runelight like it had a heartbeat. Spread out before the throne, embedded in the floor, a giant map of the empire was pieced together from colored marble. Each province was a different color of stone. Not even the sunlight, streaming in through the towering windows on both sides of the room, could eclipse the glow of the runes. Red, white, and black, the colors of House Amalt dominated the chamber. The white tower on the emperor’s cloak was mirrored on an immense tapestry that hung behind the golden throne.
The emperor smiled down at the line of shining young soldiers standing at attention before him. “I welcome you into my Rune Guard and entrust you with preserving and defending our empire in my name,” he said before descending the dais steps to welcome and embrace each of his new Guards.
Aventine snapped out of her reverie when the emperor stepped in front of her. He smiled at her, his long brown hair framing his face and making him look angelic. His presence was tangible, filling the room and demanding attention. He talked and moved with the complete assurance of a man who believed that all of reality orbited his august being.
“Aventine of Morn. Welcome to my Guard,” the emperor said. He clasped both of her hands in his and then turned to take a runestone necklace from the attendant behind him.
“Your mother carried this runestone,” the empe
ror said. “She gave her life in service to the empire. I know she would be honored for you to carry it now.” The runestone was emerald green, beautiful in its contrast with Aventine’s brilliant blonde hair. Tears filled her eyes as the necklace was placed around her neck. She dropped to one knee before the emperor.
With gentle hands, the emperor took her by her shoulders and raised her back to her feet. “Rise, Aventine, rise. As a member of my Guard your loyalty will never be questioned. You never need to kneel before me again.” There was affection in his eyes as he corrected her. “Take your zeal out into the empire. Never let it falter or fade.”
Aventine had been last in line. The emperor turned from her and ascended the steps to stand on the dais. The court attendant pounded his staff of order on the marble floor, and on cue the new members of the Guard pivoted to face the audience. The emperor’s voice boomed out in the huge throne room, “Hail, your new servants of the empire!”
The room erupted into cheers, the assembled families and friends of the new recruits acknowledging and honoring the newest members of the Rune Guard. She saw her father standing in the crowd applauding, his eyes shining with pride. He was dressed in the full ceremonial armor of a praetor of House Morn and was the only official representative of her house in attendance. Aventine felt a twinge of uncertainty, and she hoped her father would not incur the wrath of his lord by publicly endorsing her induction into the Guard.
When the ceremony ended the new recruits dispersed amongst the gathered crowd to embrace family members and friends. She went straight to her father. He was a massive warrior named Varis. Since he sported short, jet-black hair, and looked like he was carved from the side of a mountain, the common joke was that there was no way he could be the graceful Aventine’s father. Trained as a siegebreaker, and House Morn’s only praetor, he had led every Morn vanguard for the last ten years.
Her father looked like he wanted to sweep her up into a huge hug, but their armor was in the way. Instead, he took both of her shoulders in his big hands and looked her in the eye. With a smile that felt to Aventine like the warmth of the sun, he said, “I wish your mother could be here to see this. You do your family great honor, and you make me proud.”
“Are you sure? I cannot help but notice that no one else from Morn came to the ceremony.”
“Pah. Nothing but politics. And any who are truly upset about losing you to the Guard are small-minded and ignorant. The empire needs the Guard, even if they don’t always realize it.”
Aventine smiled. Her father had a reputation for being blunt to the point of insulting. He treated a discussion the same way he treated an enemy shield-wall. “A part of me is sad that I won’t be able to fight alongside you,” she said.
Her father beamed and clapped her on the back as they turned to walk from the room. “You never know, the day may come where we stand side-by-side against the enemies of the empire.”
They exited the grand throne room through a small wooden door that connected the palace proper to the Rune Guard barracks and training area. Her father sobered as they walked. “Your mother believed in the empire. She gave her life for it. We did not always see eye to eye on the subject, but I respected the strength of her convictions. To tell the truth, that’s one of the reasons I loved her. Now you embark on the same journey. I’ll not deny that I fear losing you as I did her. But I can think of nothing that would make her happier than for you to carry on her legacy in the Rune Guard.”
Aventine inclined her head in reverence for her mother and to show respect for her father’s display of emotion. “I wish to honor mother’s memory. But I have a father too. And in all things I will endeavor to emulate the legendary siegebreaker of Morn.” She paused briefly and made an obvious show of inspecting the brilliant green armor her father was wearing. “Except for, perhaps, his fashion sense.”
Her father let out an exasperated harrumph. “This blasted armor! You know I have no choice. The runes are green!”
Aventine laughed. Her father hated the green armor he was forced to wear, but it was the best suit of rune armor that House Morn possessed. His close friends never tired of reminding him that he looked like Varis, the violent vegetable.
They paused before the open archway to the training barracks. Her father stopped and gave her a long, searching look, like he was committing her face to memory. “I have been told you are leaving on a mission immediately—today.” His voice faltered, eyes filling with tears he refused to shed. “Go with honor, Aventine, and know that I love you.”
She clattered into him with a hug, armor colliding with a noise that must have echoed down the stone hallway all the way back to the throne room. “I love you too!”
“Ach, girl, you will scratch your brand new armor!” He scolded her with his words, but embraced her with his arms.
At last, he let her go. “Go on, girl, you need to prepare to leave.”
“Goodbye, Father.”
“Goodbye, Daughter.”
Aventine stood in the archway and watched her father stride away. She could not fully comprehend the width and depth of the powerful emotions she felt. She stood poised on the threshold of becoming one of the empire’s most elite soldiers, and she would not be here without her father. His training, instruction, and guidance had been a constant in her life for as long as she could remember. That debt was something she could never repay, but she could honor him by pouring her heart and soul into doing her duty. A quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered that it would be a long time before she saw her father again. She shook her head, annoyed by the pessimistic thought. When he rounded the corner and was out of sight, she turned to enter the training barracks.
She still could not believe that she was now a member in full of the Rune Guard. She walked down the long row of bunks to where she had slept during training. The room was raw stonework with a ceiling of wooden beams that met at a point far above her head. Neat and orderly bunks lined both sides of the huge room. Large windows, bigger than she was tall, allowed sunlight to shine into the room. While she stood there alone, lost in contemplation of her training, she realized that this felt like home. It was quiet, peaceful, and secure. She smiled to herself. Two years ago when she first entered training this room had terrified her.
Aventine had not been afraid of failing out of training. No, her fear had been failing to live up to what was expected of her. Her mother had been a captain in the Rune Guard. She died when Aventine was very young. When Aventine had manifested the ability to activate runestones, her father had enrolled her into the Guard’s training program. He had said it was her duty to use her abilities to serve the empire, and that it’s what her mother would have wanted. The house of Morn had not been pleased to lose a rune caster to the Guard, but her father had demanded that she be allowed to try. The Guard answered only to the emperor, and to enter his service was to choose a path that alienated the nobility. There was a long history of tension between the personal fighting force of the emperor and the warriors of the noble houses. An unspoken agreement amongst the nobility ensured that no former soldier of the Guard would ever find employment in a guild or noble house.
Two years ago she had entered this room as a raw recruit, worried that she was choosing the wrong path. Somewhere during her two years of training she had found within herself a will of iron and an inner strength that flowed from an ardent loyalty to her emperor and a love for the empire.
I will gladly spend myself in service to the empire. Let the nobility bicker and posture among themselves. I have found my true path.
With that thought she went into motion, taking her first step on the path she saw laid out in the vision before her. She moved with purpose to the side of the bed in front of her and pulled the footlocker from beneath her old bunk. Removing anything from the locker was tricky in her stiff new armor, but she managed to rummage around inside and find her already packed travel satchel. Her training commander had warned her before the induction ceremony that she would leave
on assignment immediately, so she had prepared her gear the night before. She hoisted the leather pack over her shoulder and strode from the training barracks, metal-shod feet echoing on the stone floor.
It was not unorthodox for green recruits of the Guard to be given orders within the first week of becoming members. Aventine was confident she could face any challenge with the Guard supporting her, but she could not help but feel a little trepidation over the assignment. She was not yet accustomed to the idea of even being in the Guard, and here she was about to embark on her first mission.
The Rune Guard used the Imperial Palace as their base of operations. Her training barracks was located in one wing of the palace. From memory, she had to navigate her way through the quiet hallways to the courtyard where the Guard launched military expeditions. She had only been there twice and felt uncomfortable and out-of-place walking through the palace interior. Before this morning’s ceremony, to be caught out of the training wing without an escort would have meant hours of hard physical exercise under the wrathful eye of her instructor.
When she passed through the last archway and into the sunlight, she paused to let her eyes adjust and to take in the scene. The afternoon sun was glaring down from directly overhead, and the air was thick with dust kicked up by all the activity. She still did not know the details of the mission, but there were a lot of soldiers in the square in front of her. On her right, closer to the armory, were the members of the Guard overseeing the preparations. Due to his great size, she recognized Brax, her assigned mentor. He looked like a man standing amongst children. Opposite the Guard, and as far away from them as the crowded courtyard would allow, were the warriors of the noble houses. The Legion soldiers assigned to the mission were bivouacked outside the palace.