Runebound 01 Rune Empire

by Sandell Wall

  “You convinced Lorent to mobilize?”

  “Not entirely. Lorent and Trent, with their warriors, will accompany Gladstone Century. The rest will stay here. Centurion Durost will meet us on the other side of Delgrath, and from there we march to the border.”

  “That should be more than enough to deal with whatever we find.”

  “It better be.”

  Aventine dashed to her tent and grabbed her pack. It was waterproof leather, but she doubted its contents would stay dry in this deluge. Satchel in one hand, her hood held closed with the other, she followed Brax out of the camp. Delgrath was deserted. Neither soldier nor citizen wanted to venture out into the storm. Water ran through the streets, carving little canyons out of the dirt.

  On the other side of the city they found a formation of soaked and disgruntled soldiers. Centurion Durost broke formation to meet them. “You picked a terrible day to march to the border!” The centurion had to shout to be heard over the wind and rain.

  “I never get to pick the day,” Brax said.

  “Aye, that’s the truth. If I could choose, we’d never have to fight.”

  Brax nodded. “But the emperor commands it.”

  “Glory to the emperor,” Durost said, the response automatic.

  “Where’s Lorent?”

  “They marched ahead of us. Said they would meet us at the fort.”

  “We’d best get on with it then. Move your men out.”

  Centurion Durost moved back to his position at the head of the formation. He nodded to a sergeant who in turn shouted, “Gladstone Century, MARCH!”

  The sloshing of a hundred feet taking a step was audible over the storm. A giant puddle had formed where the soldiers stood, and they were happy to leave it.

  Aventine joined Brax at the head of the column. Her feet were already cold. The rain discouraged talking, so they resigned themselves to marching in silence through the muddy gloom.

  ——

  Four hours later Aventine could not remember what it felt like to be dry. Mud was splattered up to her thighs, and her cloak was so waterlogged it weighed as much as her pack. A quick glance behind her confirmed that the rest of the soldiers were just as miserable.

  I hope we don’t have to fight like this.

  Visibility was poor, but for the last mile she had been able to make out the edge of a forest in front of them. As they got closer, a crude fort took shape, fighting its way out of the swirling rain.

  “Fort Delgrath,” Brax shouted.

  Sodden and weary, Gladstone Century marched up to the fort and waited for Brax to pound on the great wooden doors.

  “They should have seen us coming,” Brax said. “Why are there no men on the walls?”

  He gave the gate a mighty thump with his fist. While he waited for a response, something embedded in the door caught his eye. He reached up and jerked a sinister-looking arrow from the wood. Jagged and black, it looked like no arrow Aventine had ever seen. Brax made eye contact with her and started to speak, but before he could, the door swung open.

  The door opened only wide enough to admit one man, and from it stepped a Lomish warrior in full armor. He raised a commanding hand to point at the Legion soldiers huddled in the rain. “The soldiers stay outside. Fort’s full.” The man’s voice raised Aventine’s hackles. There was something dangerous, a veiled threat, behind his words.

  Centurion Durost sensed the same thing. “I am a centurion in the emperor’s legions,” he said. “You will not deny me entry to a fortress that falls under his imperial sovereignty.”

  “It’s your stinkin’ funeral,” the Lomish warrior said.

  Centurion Durost’s hand went to his sword.

  “Stand down, centurion,” Brax said. “I’ll take care of this.” He looked at the Lome warrior blocking their path. “Get out of my way,” he growled.

  The warrior moved aside so Brax and Aventine could pass, but blocked Gladstone Century from entering. Aventine glanced at Centurion Durost before following Brax. The centurion’s face was turned into the rain, yet he stared unflinching at the warrior barring him from the fort.

  Once inside, she had to admit the fort was packed. There was no way another hundred men could squeeze into the cramped space. Warriors of Lome and Cinder stood everywhere but on the walls, loitering even in the middle of the filthy courtyard in the driving rain. Brax stalked through the courtyard, shouldering aside anyone that did not get out of his way fast enough. One of the warriors saw them coming and braced himself to withstand Brax’s shove. Brax sent the man spinning into the mud without missing a step.

  Brax kicked the door to the barracks open so hard that it almost fell off its hinges. He stormed inside. Aventine followed in his wake. In the center of the room stood Sir Lorent, Sir Trent, and Dranzen. They were talking with a haggard-looking lieutenant. On the border of the room, leaning against the walls, were the praetor’s personal bodyguards.

  “I tire of your scheming, Lorent!” Brax said.

  Every eye in the room turned towards Brax. None but the lieutenant looked surprised, but his reaction made up for everyone else’s lack of concern. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, mouth open but unable to speak.

  The poor man is terrified!

  Aventine shifted her pack so that her runestone was accessible. It looked like Brax was ready to challenge Sir Lorent. She doubted they could take on this many rune-enhanced warriors, but if Brax was going to fight, she better be ready.

  “Could you be more specific?” Sir Lorent said, unfazed by Brax’s bombastic entrance.

  Brax ignored the question. “The games you’re playing with the Legion are wasting precious time. I’m taking command of the expedition effective immediately. You and Trent will report to me from here on out.”

  “You dare!” Dranzen said, taking a defiant step forward and placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

  The warriors and casters on the periphery of the room, disinterested thus far, suddenly had runestones and weapons in hand.

  “NO! Stand down!” Sir Lorent shouted.

  Dranzen looked at his uncle in confusion. “Are you not the commander?”

  “The man’s right,” Sir Lorent said. “We don’t have time for petty infighting right now. We must find Centurion Immers and his men.” He nodded to Brax. “Our men are yours, Sir Brax. We will cooperate.”

  “That is… appreciated,” Brax said slowly. Sir Lorent seemed sincere to Aventine, but she had long since learned not to trust the man.

  “What have you discovered?” Brax said. “Report.”

  “When you burst in we were questioning Lieutenant Kern here. He’s been in command of the fort for a month now. Centurion Lot was killed before the request for aid went out.”

  The lieutenant stepped forward. He flinched when Brax looked at him. With a weary voice he said, “Sir, the centurion was slain in the first attack. We almost lost the fort that day. The enemy has not launched another direct assault, but we know they’re in the trees. If more than one or two men tries to leave the fort they ambush and kill them within sight of the walls. They allow runners to come and go, but no one else.”

  Brax looked at the floor as he listened. “They want us to know they’re out there,” he said to himself.

  “Aye, I think so too, sir. I warned Centurion Immers that it was a trap, but he laughed at me. He marched his men into the forest two days ago, and that was the last we saw of them.”

  Brax held up the arrow he had plucked from the gate. “The barbarian tribes of the wilds don’t use bow and arrow.”

  “Aye, sir. We’ve not been able to get a good look at them, but there are armored soldiers fighting alongside the barbarians. They stay in the trees, picking men off the walls with arrows like that one. Their armor is dark, nearly impossible to see in the forest, but they appear to be smaller than the barbarians.” The lieutenant’s eyes filled with tears and he had to look away. When he looked back his voice was anguished. “They look like men of the empir
e.”

  “No. Never. Put that out of your mind,” Brax said. “How many of your soldiers still live?”

  “Twenty of the original eighty. Fifteen died in the first attack, and then a large group tried to win free of the fort and escape to Delgrath. They were slaughtered. Since then, we’ve hidden in the fort and kept our heads down. Standing on the wall is asking for an arrow through the mouth.”

  Brax nodded, lost in thought. When he reached a decision, he snapped his focus back to the lieutenant, and in his best formal voice said, “Lieutenant, on behalf of the emperor I thank you for your service. In light of your steadfastness, and due to our pressing need, I promote you to centurion and charge you with the continued defense of this fort.”

  “Sir, I don’t, I mean, I can’t—” the lieutenant tried to speak but ground to a halt as he choked on his words. He steadied himself, stood up tall, squared his shoulders, and after taking a deep breath said, “Thank you, sir. I will continue to defend this fort in the emperor’s name.”

  “Good man,” Brax said. “Lorent, Trent, assemble your men and join Centurion Durost outside. We’re going to march into the forest and follow Centurion Immers’s trail.”

  The newly promoted Centurion Kern’s eyes widened. “Sir, you can’t! You won’t come back!”

  “I understand your fear, but Centurion Immers went in unprepared and unaware. He also didn’t have the warriors of houses Lome and Cinder with him. And if there is an enemy in the wilderness that can defy the combined might of two noble houses and a century of legionaries, we must know. We have no choice but to enter the forest.”

  Aventine stood with Brax as they waited for the praetors and their warriors to file out of the room. He said, “Be ready for anything once we enter the forest. Retrieve your spear from the supply wagon and keep your runestone close.”

  Her spear was a gift from her father. Named Heavens Rend, it had been her mother’s weapon when she was a captain in the Rune Guard. Engraved with powerful runes, it was a devastating instrument of destruction in the right hands. She did not carry the spear unless going into battle, choosing instead to keep a simple short sword at her waist.

  They followed the last of the warriors into the courtyard. The gates were open and Sir Lorent and Sir Trent were outside conferring with Centurion Durost. Brax turned to Centurion Kern and said, “Once we enter the forest, send a runner back to Delgrath requesting reinforcements. There are four centuries camped outside the town. Keep the gates closed unless we return or reinforcements arrive.”

  “Yes, sir,” Centurion Kern said, saluting the big Guardsman.

  “Glory to the emperor,” Brax said, returning the salute.

  “Glory to the emperor,” the centurion repeated.

  Sir Lorent and Sir Trent assembled their warriors at the head of the column and marched into the forest. Centurion Durost and his men followed.

  Aventine noticed that Centurion Durost had left the supply wagons, along with a few guards, outside the fort. She walked over to a wagon to retrieve her spear. It took a bit of digging to find it, but soon she was running to catch up to Brax, spear in hand.

  She jogged past one of the soldiers who had been left behind, and with a start of surprise recognized Remus. Upon closer inspection, she realized that all of the new recruits had been left behind with a sergeant to keep them in line. Remus’s eyes met hers, and in that moment something passed between them. Maybe it was because they were now comrades in arms, but Aventine felt inexplicably linked with the recruit. She turned to glance at him again while she hurried away. He was still looking at her.

  Don’t be silly. He’s just one of a hundred soldiers.

  She pushed thoughts of Remus from her mind and focused on the task at hand. The forest closed in around her, dark and suffocating, as she ran to catch up to Brax.

  Chapter 13

  REMUS JERKED AWAKE, Sergeant Braston’s bellow ringing in his ears. The rain pelting his tent had lulled him to sleep.

  “Up, you worms, we’re moving out!” came the shout again. Remus groaned. He climbed out of his tent and into the pouring rain. He was soaked within three steps. Angry and annoyed, he yanked the stakes of his tent out of the ground. Not bothering to fold it properly, he wadded all of it up, canvas, lines, and stakes, and jammed it into his Legion issued pack. If the sergeant demanded to inspect his pack, he would be doing pushups in the mud.

  Remus joined the rest of the soldiers from his century in formation. No one talked other than to grumble or curse the rain. Once the men were assembled, the sergeant marched them through Delgrath towards the academy on the other side of the city. As they passed Holmgrim’s smithy, he saw the big smith standing out front, dry under the overhang, with his powerful arms crossed. Remus hoped his helmet disguised his face.

  On the other side of the city, the sergeant marched them off the road and held them in formation in an empty field. Lower than the raised roadway, the field was quickly filling with water. Miserable, Remus waited, submerged feet going numb, trying not to let his teeth chatter. He fidgeted, unaccustomed to wearing armor. The raw wool tunic worn underneath his mail chafed.

  After what seemed like an hour, he spotted two dark figures leaving the town. They were walking fast. Centurion Durost went out to meet them. Their discussion was brief; after which the two figures moved to the head of the formation. When they were close enough, he recognized the newcomers as Aventine and Brax. Centurion Durost moved back into position and nodded at Sergeant Braston. In response, Sergeant Braston shouted, “Gladstone Century, MARCH!”

  More than happy to leave the giant puddle behind, Remus put his head down and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  ——

  It only took a mile for Remus to discover that he hated marching. Stuck in formation, he felt rigid and restrained. The monotonous pace made him want to strip off his cumbersome armor and sprint through the storm. The rain was relentless. He kept his head down, using the visor of his helmet to shield his eyes from the stringing droplets. Watching the water stream off his helmet and splatter onto his feet was hypnotizing.

  Resigned to plodding through the rain forever, he almost ran into the soldier in front of him when the formation stopped. They had been marching for hours. His legs twitched, demanding he take the next step his body anticipated. Remus raised his head and saw, for the first time, the fort that was their destination. It looked deserted. Behind the fort a wall of trees stretched out of sight to the north and south.

  From his place near the back of the formation Remus could hear a commotion at the entrance of the fort. After a brief interval, the doors opened a crack, and he saw Brax and Aventine enter. He expected to follow them, so he was surprised when Sergeant Braston marched the soldiers away from the door. The rest of the men were not only surprised, they were angry.

  “Not going to let us into our own bleedin’ fort?” the soldier next to him said.

  “Sodding nobles, they should be out here in the rain,” the man in front of them said.

  A discordant murmur rose from the soldiers. They were cold, hungry, and tired. And they had just been denied entry to a Legion fort.

  “Quiet, all of you!” Sergeant Braston shouted.

  Remus settled in to wait. His teeth started to chatter.

  There better be more to being a soldier than marching and waiting.

  After roughly half an hour the gates opened wide. Warriors from Lome and Cinder streamed out, followed by Sir Lorent and Sir Trent. The praetors ignored the Gladstone Century, ordering their men to form up in front of the soldiers of the Legion. Remus could not overhear what was said, but he could see Centurion Durost conferring with the two praetors. After being dismissed, Centurion Durost beckoned to Sergeant Braston. The sergeant jogged over and listened intently as the centurion relayed the plan.

  Orders understood, Sergeant Braston returned to the formation and started barking out commands. “You recruits, get over by the wagons!”

  Remus broke
formation and walked towards the wagons with the twelve other recruits. Sergeant Braston was pleading his case, begging the centurion to let him march into the forest. But Centurion Durost’s mind was made up—the sergeant would stay behind.

  Remus stood apart from the other recruits, not sure what to do with himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, and he turned to see Aventine digging around in one of the supply wagons. She pulled a powerful-looking spear out of the tightly packed weapons and then ran to catch up to the soldiers marching into the forest.

  As Aventine passed, she made eye contact with Remus. He felt an unexpected urge to call out to her, to wish her a safe return. Instead, he kept silent. He barely knew her and had no reason to care what her fate would be. But as she jogged away, he found that he could not tear his gaze from her. She turned and looked back at him before disappearing into the trees.

  Don’t be foolish. You don’t need her attention.

  Sergeant Braston ordered the recruits to form up around the supply wagons. Once they were lined up he said, “All right, boyos, we pulled guard duty. I’m going to see about getting us into the fort. You lot wait here.” The sergeant banged on the wooden doors, and soon enough they opened to admit him.

  With the sergeant gone, and no other veterans present, the recruits relaxed.

  “They should’ve taken us into the forest. I know how to stand in a shield-wall,” said a big, burly recruit.

  “You’re big,” an older recruit said. “But the barbarians in that forest are bigger. A lot bigger.”

  Full of bravado, the big recruit was not convinced. “Horse scat. That’s just what they tell kits to scare them straight.”

  Remus tuned the argument out as it devolved into pointless posturing. The recruits were trying to establish a pecking order, and he did not play that game. They would soon discover that he was smarter, faster, and stronger. He had nothing to prove to them.

  Long after the rear of the Legion column disappeared into the forest, the doors to the fort opened wide and Sergeant Braston strode out ahead of a man wearing a lieutenant's cloak and another soldier. The lieutenant paused to relay an order to the soldier who then turned and jogged away from the fort towards Delgrath. Kitted out with lightweight gear, Remus guessed the man was a runner carrying a report.