Runebound 01 Rune Empire

by Sandell Wall

  Dour Face.

  Dour Face spoke a quiet command to Remus’s escort and they untethered him. Before leaving, the guard handed Dour Face the runed circlet he had taken from Remus. Their charge delivered, the three of them moved away, back towards the entrance. Remus watched long enough to see them exit the building.

  He wants a private audience. Interesting.

  Remus turned to see Dour Face holding up the circlet, inspecting it intently. He waited, determined not to be the first to speak.

  “You know I speak empire tongue,” Dour Face said.

  Remus nodded.

  “My words are few, learned from prisoners,” Dour Face said as he turned his attention from the metal ring in his hand to Remus.

  Still Remus did not speak.

  “I am Pikon,” Dour Face said. “My people are Ethari.” He gave Remus a shrewd look. “You will talk? Promost thinks I make mistake, meeting with you. You do not speak, I send you back to cage and let you die.”

  “Why am I here?” Remus said, shaken by the matter-of-fact way Pikon mentioned his death.

  “You show promise. We need that. We are losing war.” Pikon placed the circlet on a nearby table as he spoke. “You have seen runebound now, you know threat.”

  “Runebound? That’s what you call those abominations?”

  “Is what I said,” Pikon said, looking at Remus oddly. “You killed mindless drones who had no master. You try to unleash one in cell. Why? You hope to escape?”

  “No, I had no thought of escape. I wanted to know what we’re dealing with. And I wanted to see if someone could survive the ‘binding,’ as you call it.”

  “To value life of comrade so little is saddening.”

  “He’s not my comrade, and anyway, he survived. He went insane, and then when the circlet was removed he returned to himself.”

  Pikon grimaced. “We suspected, but dared not test. The Volgoth cannot know.”

  Volgoth? He must mean their barbarian allies.

  “You suspected these ‘runebound’ could be saved, and yet you continue to slaughter them? And you call me heartless?”

  “Is not feasible to save them. You have seen. They fight like demons. And if Volgoth knew they could be saved, they would not let us kill. We would be overrun.”

  “So destroy the source. Who is enslaving these people?”

  Pikon shook his head. “You do not know what you speak. We flee. If we stand and fight, we die or become thralls. Masters of Ethari seek to return to power. Wastelands can no longer contain them.”

  “So what do you want with me?”

  “Ethari and Volgoth are not enough. We need army, not prisoners. You will tell this to comrades?”

  Remus could not help but laugh. “You expect them to just see things your way and volunteer to join your war?”

  Pikon frowned. “Already in war. Your empire is next. This enemy will not stop. Fight now, or die later. Is your choice.”

  “You’re crazy. Even if I agree with you, I can’t convince the rest to fight for you.”

  “Do not need all, start with few. Pick leaders, get men to follow. Do not underestimate your influence. I have seen how your comrades follow you.”

  Remus felt uncomfortable thinking of himself as a leader. Remembering how young he was, and where he had been two weeks ago, it seemed ridiculous.

  This is madness!

  “I will try, but don’t be surprised if I fail.”

  “Try is good. But beware Volgoth. Hatred of empire burns in their hearts. They would kill, not capture. I work to convince them we need help.”

  “You don’t make it sound like there’s much hope.”

  “What is point of hope?”

  Remus paused, surprised by the question. “Having hope means believing we can win,” he said.

  Pikon did not respond for a long time. The grey soldier stared into the brazier’s flame, lost in his own thoughts. Remus had never seen Pikon express emotion before, but there in the firelight he saw sorrow on the Ethari’s face.

  “Hope is dead,” Pikon finally said. “Ethari fled our masters so we might die free.”

  The defeat in Pikon’s voice angered Remus. “If you think resistance is pointless, why fight?”

  “There are worse fates than death.”

  “So that’s it then? You can’t win, so you’re going to pull as many pitiful fools as you can into your doomed crusade? Because I’m not going back to the cages and telling the others, ‘well, the situation's hopeless, but if we cooperate, we get to die in battle.’” Remus was shouting now. “We may as well just die trying to escape!”

  Pikon weathered Remus’s outburst in silence, his dark eyes reflecting the fire. “You fought runebound. We kill our own. Enemy destroys us without ever lifting a weapon.”

  “And you don’t lift a finger to try and find a counter. How is it that no one tested the circlets until tonight? What else haven't you tried?”

  “Volgoth are superstitious people. They forbid experimentation with runes. We do what we must to keep them allies. Ethari are few, without Volgoth we perish.”

  “If you don’t find an answer to the runebound, you’ll perish! You can’t handicap yourself because it might make your simple-minded allies unhappy. I’ll stand with you if you're fighting to win, but I’ll not willingly submit to die in some hopeless war,” Remus said, his eyes shining with emotion.

  “My race is young. We saught patron in Volgoth because that is what we know. But perhaps there is better way. Maybe Ethari can stand alone. You speak with passion of Volgoth and reason of Ethari. There is power in what you say. You have name?”

  “My name is Remus.”

  “I will not forget,” Pikon said. “Come.” He gestured for Remus to follow as he started to walk back through the armory towards the door.

  “At sunrise we march,” Pikon said as they walked. “Last village before Hilstaad has fallen. Warchief demands all prisoners fight. We cover retreat of villagers here.” Pikon was silent for a few paces. “He sacrifices your men to save his people. But if you prove yourself, things will change. This is chance I give you.”

  Remus swallowed hard. “I’m a blacksmith, not a soldier.”

  “You are soldier now,” Pikon said, his lips quirking with what might have been amusement.

  In a few more strides they reached the entrance to the building. Before exiting through the door Pikon handed Remus something heavy in the darkness. It was a leather bag full of liquid—a wineskin Remus realized. “For your men,” Pikon said. And then they were outside.

  His guards had waited, and the sentry with the noose tried to restrain Remus. But Pikon stopped the soldier with an abrupt command followed by a string of words that Remus guessed were new orders. Remus could sense the uncertainty of the guard as he slowly lowered the leather restraint. Pikon turned to re-enter the armory, but Remus stopped him with one last question.

  “Wait,” Remus said.

  Pikon paused, listening.

  “Where do you get your weapons and armor? I’m a blacksmith, but I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “We take them as prizes from monsters under mountain,” Pikon said, as if that explained everything. He stepped into the armory without ever looking back.

  One of the guards prodded Remus and nodded towards the prisons. Remus obliged and turned to walk in that direction. His escort fell into formation around him, this time more like an honor guard than jailors.

  Fear gripped Remus’s heart as they passed through the destitute settlement. Now he understood the desperation he had seen in the villagers. These people were fighting for their lives and losing. Friends and family lost in battle were not slain, but returned as murderous, mindless thralls. He shivered, imagining having to face a possessed Holmgrim or Axid. Or Aventine. The thought made him sick.

  But beneath the sickness was disgusted indignation. For as long as he could remember he had hungered to understand and unlock the secrets of the runes. To see them twisted into
such cruel weapons, and be powerless to resist them, offended him to the core of his being. Runes were a power to be harnessed and used, not feared and shunned. The Ethari were losing because they did not understand, and they did not understand because they did not seek. Remus would seek, and he would understand. And damn the consequences.

  Remus and his escort approached the dark wooden cells. Most of the prisoners were asleep, but in the faint light of a distant torch he could see a man standing at the front of one of the cages. The man was watching him. When they moved closer Remus recognized Omen, who stared at him with flinty eyes. Omen was covered with ugly bruises and welts all the way up to his throat, and he still moved with a limp, but Remus did not for an instant underestimate how dangerous he was. In a flash of intuition Remus knew he would have to kill Omen. The vindictive veteran would never agree to help their captors, and would probably stab Remus in the back given half a chance.

  Trained as a blacksmith, fascinated by runes, he had never given any thought to being a soldier, to killing other men. Today in the stream he had smashed the life out of something that had once been human, but he could not bring himself to think of it as a person. He did not feel like he had taken the life of another. But to contemplate killing Omen was different. It was personal.

  “Look long and hard, boy,” Omen said. “It’s the last thing you’ll see before I rip the eyes out of your head.” Remus started, he had been so focused he did not realize he was staring Omen down. He averted his gaze, chiding himself for fearing that Omen might read his thoughts.

  Remus could feel Omen’s eyes on him, but he didn't look again. In front of him the escort opened the door to his cage. Grotius and Ellion stood when they saw Remus coming. Back in the cell, the door secured behind him, Remus tossed the wineskin to Grotius. Grotius had torn a strip of cloth and wrapped it diagonally around his head to cover his injured eye.

  “How’s the eye?” Remus said.

  “It’s gone.”

  Remus grimaced. “Unfortunate.”

  “You miserable whelp,” Grotius said. “That’s all you have to say? I ought to thrash some sense into you. What the hells were you thinking?”

  The rest of the men crowded behind Grotius.

  Remus’s anger flared. “What was I thinking? I was thinking that we’re slaves whose lives are worthless. I was thinking that if we’re going to fight this enemy, we need to know what it is. I don’t want to be chained up and marched into the forest to fight monsters until I die. That means we need to act. To act we need information. We need a plan. At least I tried something. And it got noticed. What are you doing? What’s your plan to live through tomorrow?”

  Stunned by the forcefulness of Remus’s words, Grotius said nothing.

  “That’s what I thought,” Remus said. “Until you’ve got a better idea, you do what I say. I don’t intend to rot in here. You can work with me to survive, or you can get out of my way.”

  “What about him?” Grotius said, nodding his head towards the back of the cage. The man Remus had ambushed with the circlet was curled up against the wall.

  “He’s alive, isn’t he?” Remus said.

  “No thanks to you,” Grotius said. “We’ll follow you, for now. But you better get something through your giant head. You’re not alone in this. When you stand in a shield-wall, you stand with men who you damn well better think of as brothers. I’ve been in the Legion longer than you’ve been alive, and I’ve seen a hundred cocksure pups like yourself who think they’ve got all the answers. If they survive their foolishness, they learn that you’re only as strong as the man next to you.”

  Remus tried to speak, but Grotius was not finished.

  “Keep your mouth shut, I’m not done yet. I won’t deny you’re bleedin’ smart. I’ll follow you because I think you might actually be able to get us out of here. You’ve got something I don’t. That’s why I’m just a sergeant. But if you risk the life of another one of these men, the life of one of your men, on some stupid whim, I’ll knock your head off.”

  Remus studied the faces of the other men as Grotius spoke. The words stung. Remus liked the blunt sergeant and was surprised to discover that he wanted the man’s respect. And he could sense the truth behind what Grotius was saying. Never in his life had he needed to consider anyone other than himself. But now survival hinged on his learning to do so. So be it.

  “That’s fair,” Remus said when Grotius was done speaking.

  Grotius grunted, visibly struggling to let go of his anger. The moment of tension passed. Grotius backed down, and the men behind him followed his lead.

  Grotius hefted the wineskin Remus had tossed. “What’s this, then?”

  “A gift from an unexpected ally.”

  “So they didn't beat the scat out of you for your stunt.”

  “My bowels are still full. I don’t have your talent for public defecation.”

  “You’ve not been in the Legion long.”

  Grotius passed the wineskin around the cage.

  “It goes down like fire, but feels like a warm summer day in the gut,” one man said. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

  “It’s good, I’ll admit.” Ellion took a swig and handed it along. “But how did you come by it?” he said, giving Remus a grave look.

  Remus assessed the captives assembled in front of him. He had just promised Grotius to treat these men like brothers. So when he lied to them, he cringed inwardly. But he did not intend to fail, and he knew the promise of freedom would inspire them to fight more than any argument he could make.

  “We’re being offered a chance to fight for our freedom,” he said. “Our captors are fighting a losing war, and they don’t have the numbers needed to take the fight to the enemy. So they use captives like us to hold them off. But it’s not working. Every time a village falls, the ranks of the opposing army swell with runebound thralls.”

  Grotius swore. “It’s like something out of a nightmare.”

  “A shared nightmare,” Remus said. “Because we’re all stuck in it.”

  “They already string us up to fight or die,” Ellion said. “What more do they want?”

  “They want an army,” Remus said. “Not prisoners. They know we’re from the Legion.”

  “You speak as if you’ve decided, “Ellion said.

  “What choice do we have?” Remus said. “If we agree to help them, at least we have a fighting chance. If we don’t act, they’re going to run us into the ground, leave us to die in the forest, and then do the same to the next batch of prisoners.”

  “You would forsake your oath to the emperor?” Grotius said, an edge to his voice. “Don’t forget that this is our enemy, who attacked our fort, ambushed our soldiers, and slew our commanding officers.”

  “We’re not in the empire, are we?” Remus said, matching Grotius’s hard voice with steel of his own. “Is your oath going to save you here? Summon the emperor on a golden battle-steed to deliver us from this cage?”

  “You impudent whelp,” Grotius said, his anger returning hotter than before. He started towards Remus. “I lost an eye for you, and now I’m of a mind to take it back.”

  “Stop!” Remus shouted, his voice so severe that Grotius paused mid-stride. “Don’t be a fool. We can survive, and we can get out of this. But you have to trust me. If you want to die with your oath intact, go ahead. But I want to live.”

  “Aye,” one man said.

  “Me too,” another chimed in.

  Ellion looked at Grotius, and then at Remus. “I have a family,” he said. “A wife and two sons wait for me back home. I don’t want to be killed chained up like an animal. I’m with Remus.”

  Grotius grunted. “You’re smart,” he said to Remus. “Dangerous even.” He paused. “Very well, we’ll do things your way. But don’t forget who we are and where we come from. You can’t turn your back on the empire. There will be a day of reckoning.”

  Chapter 24

  AVENTINE WALKED BESIDE Holmgrim at the head o
f their little group. The few buildings of Tickton dwindled to a speck in the arid flatlands behind them. Holmgrim had given the fallen soldier a clean death, a quick death. In their haste to depart they had left the foreign invader where he lay, flat on his back and staring at the cloudless sky. Serenity had replaced the anguish on his countenance as the lifeblood leaked from his body, and Aventine found herself hoping the stone-colored man had found peace on the other side.

  Seven in total, their ragtag band moved with haste down the dusty road. Marthis, his wife, his man Gervald, and two laborers followed close on Aventine’s and Holmgrim’s heels. Holmgrim had insisted that they leave immediately, worried the raiders might double back and surprise them. They had grabbed only what they could carry and had barely enough food to make it to the gates of Umgragon.

  “You know these raiders,” Aventine said to Holmgrim. It was not a question.

  “I’ve never seen them before,” Holmgrim said. “But they can only have come from one place. My people have legends about the wastelands beyond the wilds. A dark and ancient power slumbers in that desolate frontier. Deep in the badlands lie primeval ruins, crumbled citadels of obsidian and bone. Those who explore them don’t return.”

  “Haunted ruins don’t spawn entire armies.”

  “It’s been thirty years since I left. Maybe there was truth in the legends.”

  “That’s just your superstitious tribal blood talking,” Aventine said. “It’s far more likely they are invaders from across the sea.” But she shivered, remembering the thing she and Brax had encountered in the pit at Ralmaddan.

  “For all our sakes, I hope you’re right,” Holmgrim said.

  ——

  Many miles later, with the sun setting in front of them, Umgragon appeared as a black smudge on the horizon. Against the backdrop of the sunset, the fortress city looked like a cloud of night rising out of the landscape. As they drew near, the magnificent Gothic architecture of the emperor’s treasury stronghold reared out of the miasma that surrounded it. Towering spires and bastions of stone looked grainy in the haze that covered the entire city like a dirty veil.