Runebound 01 Rune Empire

by Sandell Wall

  Single file, they hiked up the narrow path. After several hundred paces they left the water behind and turned inland, heading into a rocky valley between the small mountains. They were forced to cut a winding route through the jagged boulders on the valley floor. It was full of blind spots and narrow gaps where only one man could pass at a time. Aventine guessed a squad of men could hold off an entire army here.

  Ahead of them a shadow detached itself from a boulder and challenged their party.

  “At dawn’s light the night fades,” the shadow called.

  “The emperor’s will is the sun of day,” one of the rebels replied, completing the cryptic riddle.

  The correct answer to the challenge confirmed their identity. More shadows stepped from behind nearby rocks, lowering bows that had been trained on Aventine and Holmgrim.

  “Your big friend looks like Volgoth,” the voice from the shadows said. “Don’t try and tell me the governor's mongrel has turned on his master.”

  “He’s Volgoth all right, but he helped us escape,” the rebel next to Aventine said.

  “Who are you? Crell was supposed to lead the waterfront squad.” As the voice spoke, its source stepped forward into the moonlight. Aventine’s breath caught in her throat. Looking like it had been ravaged by chemical and fire, the man’s face was a mask of scars. It was a miracle he still had eyes.

  “My brother was taken.” The governor's wife spoke for the first time, her voice strong and unwavering.

  Surprised, Aventine glanced at the woman, wondering what had happened to the timid, broken woman from the boat. She felt a pang of sadness. If the rebel commander from the docks was the lady’s brother, tragedy had struck many times for her this night.

  “M’lady Saffrin, forgive me,” the scarred man said, bowing to the governor’s wife. “I did not recognize you.”

  “Pay it no mind, Reave,” Lady Saffrin said. “Did anyone else make it out?”

  “Yours is the first group we’ve seen, and we only expected escape over the water if all else failed. What happened?” Reave said. But before Saffrin could respond he added, “No, wait. Everyone should hear. Come this way.”

  Aventine and Holmgrim fell into step with the rest of the rebels as Reave led them to a dark crevice. One-by-one the men in front of Aventine disappeared into thin air. She knew it was ridiculous, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but she still had to gather her courage to keep walking forward. On her next step she crossed the threshold, and what had looked like an innocuous crevice turned out to be the entrance to a cavern. It took several heartbeats for her mind to adjust to the illusion. The feeble torchlight was not enough to illuminate the far reaches of the cave, but she could see a group of men and women clustered around a table in the center of the cavernous space.

  All conversation ceased when Aventine and Holmgrim entered the room. Alert and vigilant, the men and women around the table looked at the two of them with open suspicion.

  Reave waited for the rebels from the boat and his men from outside to form a circle around the table. When they were still, he nodded at Lady Saffrin.

  “Umgragon is completely locked down,” Lady Saffrin said. “Anyone who is not already out won’t make it. They will have to survive on the inside. Wranger anticipated the uprising and had Captain Harrod executed before we were ready.”

  Shouts and curses exploded from the assembled rebels. Gauntleted fists slamming into the table punctuated their distress.

  Lady Saffrin waited for silence before continuing. “The First was mobilized and the city shut before I was able to leave the palace.” She wavered slightly, finally letting her grief show. “There was an opportunity. I tried to kill my husband.”

  “Did you succeed?” Reave stepped forward, his hideous face desperate for the answer.

  “I don’t know,” Lady Saffrin said. “I wounded him grievously, but he fought back. I fled.”

  “Dead or injured, the First will scour these mountains to avenge him,” Reave said.

  “Can we flee?” one of the rebels from the boat said.

  Reave shook his head. “The only way out is through the flatlands. The mountains into the empire are impassable.”

  “Then we fight,” Lady Saffrin said, regaining her composure. “I will not abandon my brother. Wranger won’t kill him, he's too valuable as a bargaining tool.”

  “They will give no quarter, m’lady,” Reave said.

  “I’ll not ask for what I won’t give.”

  One of the men from the table had been barely listening to the discussion. He was too preoccupied with scrutinizing Aventine and Holmgrim. He stepped forward and pointed as he said, “And who are these two? The big one is the spitting image of the governor's executioner.”

  Aventine answered for herself. “I am Aventine of Morn, Rune Guard, and servant of the emperor.”

  She was going to speak on Holmgrim’s behalf, but at her words the rebels stiffened like the emperor himself had entered the room.

  “You’re in the Guard?” Reave said, his voice excited.

  “That’s what I said,” Aventine said.

  “By the gods, we might have a chance!” Reave said. “Come this way.” He turned and strode deeper into the cave. Aventine gave Holmgrim an incredulous look and then followed.

  At the rear of the cave was a stout wooden door. Behind it was a small armory. On one side of the armory the torchlight reflected off of the color of runes. Rune weapons and their companion runestones were stacked along the wall.

  “We smuggled these out of the city weeks ago, expecting some of the Guard to survive to use them,” Reave said, placing his hand on a titanic rune-worked longbow. “With the Umgragon Guard all dead, these are useless to us now. But if you can power them, we might have a fighting chance.”

  Holmgrim picked up the massive bow. It was as tall as he was.

  “That’s a siege bow,” Reave said. “Only a fully powered siegebreaker can pull it.”

  Holmgrim raised an eyebrow at the man, and then with his foot braced against the bottom of the bow, pulled the string back to his cheek.

  Dumbfounded, Reave looked at Aventine. She shrugged and said, “Don’t arm-wrestle him.”

  Behind them in the doorway Lady Saffrin spoke. “Can you power these runes, Aventine of the Guard? Will you stand with us against the enemies of the empire?”

  Aventine did not immediately respond. She walked to the wall of rune weapons and lifted a small green runestone from its stand. Carefully, she removed the gauntlet from her injured hand and touched skin to the emerald stone. It felt like it had been forever since she had powered a runestone. She pushed at the stone, feeling like she was flexing an out-of-shape muscle, and it flared with brilliant light. A green glow bathed her face as the power of the stone flowed through her. With that power came resolve. At her back she felt the presence of her mother and father. Her father had trained her, poured his life into preparing her for this moment. Her mother had served the empire, and gave her life because she believed in it. Aventine was ready to do the same.

  “Aye,” she said. “We’ll stand with you. I was trained for this.”

  Chapter 29

  REMUS THOUGHT HE WAS in good condition, but he had to push himself hard to keep up with the Ethari. For the first time in a week he did not have a metal restraint tearing the skin off his leg. His eyes teared with relief as he ran. He shook his head angrily, refusing to cry over such a stupid, simple mercy. They stopped their mad flight when they reached Hilstaad. Empty of life, the village was abandoned. The Volgoth were gone.

  Not even winded, the Ethari clustered around the promost while Remus and the other men collapsed in exhaustion. He estimated thirty Ethari had ventured out. No more than twenty stood with the promost now.

  “We’d all be dead without them,” Grotius said, when he was breathing easy enough to speak. “They fight like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

  “But it wasn’t enough,” Remus said. “We lost more than half our numb
er and were driven back.”

  Grotius spit into the dirt. “Aye, it was a poor result. But it’s not our fight.”

  “They unchained us,” Ellion said. “Let them seek out their barbarian brethren. We can make for the empire from here.”

  Of the one hundred prisoners that formed the shield-wall, only thirty had walked out of the clearing alive. Clustered around Remus, Grotius, and Ellion, the surviving men murmured assent to Ellion’s suggestion.

  Remus did not speak. Grotius remained silent as well, watching Remus intently.

  “You don’t intend to leave,” Grotius said at last.

  Remus stood and looked at the bloody, filthy survivors. “I’m not going back to the empire. Whatever this runebound threat is, you’re all fools if you think you can ignore it and scurry home. Pikon says it will be on our doorstep next, and I believe him. I’m going to fight it here, now, while we might still have a chance.”

  “But we could warn the emperor,” Ellion said. “We could bring back the full might of the Legion!”

  “Brax told me what happened to Gladstone Century,” Remus said. “You were betrayed, left for dead by your commanders. Do you really think those same men are going to welcome you back into the empire with open arms?”

  Ellion’s expression sobered quickly.

  “They will kill you before you can speak,” Remus said. “Your testimony is evidence of their treachery.”

  “Damnation,” Grotius said quietly. “He’s right.”

  “If you want to run, I won’t stop you,” Remus said. “But I can’t protect you either. The Ethari might strike you down.”

  “You promised our freedom!” an indignant voice called from the crowd.

  “You’re no longer chained,” Remus said. “What you do now is your choice.”

  “Here they come,” Grotius said, nodding at the Ethari behind Remus.

  Remus turned to see Pikon and the promost approaching. The other Ethari hung back, cleaning weapons and eating travel rations.

  “Is grim day,” Pikon said. “Ten brothers fallen. More lost in one fight than in entire year.”

  “Yours are not the only dead we left back there,” Remus said.

  Pikon gave Remus a hard look, but then nodded and said, “You speak truth. Promost has made decision. If you will join Ethari’s war, we will let you fight without chain.”

  Remus did not look back at the men behind him. “We will fight with you.”

  Pikon’s mouth twitched upwards in a grim smile. “I told promost this would be answer. Volgoth may not accept promost’s decision, but we are prepared to defy them. We tire of spilling our blood to defend against runebround threat that they refuse to fight. When we reach Volgoth, we will enter camp and discuss terms with warchief. You and your men hide in forest until we signal.”

  “I understand,” Remus said.

  The promost said something to Pikon. Pikon listened and then translated for the promost when he was finished. “Promost says you fight well, that you saved his life. He will not forget this debt.”

  “Keep my men alive and we’re even,” Remus said.

  After Pikon translated Remus’s words, the promost nodded in approval. Soon they were moving again, exiting on the far side of Hilstaad. Remus was aware of one or two men slipping away into the trees, but he said nothing. Let them go. If the monsters of the forest did not claim them, they would be fugitives in their own homeland.

  ——

  Five hundred Volgoth do not make a small encampment. They heard the camp before they saw it. A carpet of tiny fires winked into view on the forest floor as they approached. Giant tree trunks, like pillars in a great-hall, ascended into the murky darkness under the roof of a canopy that towered high overhead. Remus could see Volgoth women and children huddled close to the fires scattered under the trees. Warriors in full battle dress stalked through the refugees, alert and primed for war.

  Pikon signalled to Remus. Remus stopped his men short of the camp perimeter. The Ethari swept past the Volgoth guard without explanation. Remus held his breath. The Ethari were not entering the camp as friends or allies. They moved in close formation, shields in their hands and not on their backs. Volgoth warriors hailed the promost, but he ignored them, leading the Ethari into the heart of the camp. In the wake of the Ethari, villagers stood up, looking confused and concerned.

  Lost in the twilight, the Ethari vanished from sight.

  “Those blighters have balls, I’ll give them that,” Grotius said. “But what good will it do to pick a fight with these filthy heathens?”

  “Let’s just wait and watch,” Remus said.

  “Do you trust them?” Ellion said.

  Remus thought the question over, and then to his surprise he answered honestly, “No. But I trust their need. They need us more than we need them.”

  Soon Pikon came striding out of the darkness, heading straight for Remus.

  “Come. Warchief wants to see man who saved promost’s life,” Pikon said.

  “I want my lieutenants with me,” Remus said, pointing at Grotius and Ellion.

  “Very well,” Pikon said. “Follow me.”

  Remus, Grotius, and Ellion left the other men behind and followed Pikon into the camp.

  “Whatever warchief asks, you do,” Pikon said. “You proved yourself to promost, but not to Volgoth.”

  Remus gulped, remembering how Gorgash had almost executed him in front of the Delgrath fort. In the middle of the camp the Ethari stood opposite a group of Volgoth warriors. Hundreds of eyes glinted in the firelight. Every villager watched the confrontation. Gorgash stood in front of his warriors, gazing down at the Ethari with contempt. No matter how many times he saw the barbarian, Remus was always stunned by the chieftain's savage aspect. A promise of violence haunted the barbarian’s presence, and despite his bulk he moved with the sinewy grace of an apex predator. Remus respected the Ethari but did not fear them—he feared the Volgoth chieftain.

  Pikon led him to stand before Gorgash. Grotius and Ellion stood with the other Ethari.

  “Do not defy him,” Pikon said out of the side of his mouth. “He will break you like a twig.”

  Gorgash was massive. Remus only came up to the barbarian leader’s chest. Lust and death burned in the man’s eyes. Leather creaked as biceps as thick as Remus’s waist flexed against the chieftain's armor. His face framed by his fiery red mane, Gorgash looked like a god.

  Gorgash spoke one word, a harsh command that Pikon translated. “He says kneel.”

  Remus stared defiantly at the indomitable barbarian, and then slowly knelt, hanging his head as he did so.

  He heard Gorgash snort and then felt his axe yanked from where it was secured on his back. Gorgash brandished the axe and said something that made his warriors laugh.

  “They mock you for carrying Volgoth weapon,” Pikon said.

  “Thanks,” Remus said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I got that part.”

  Remus felt the cold, jagged edge of his axe rest against the crown of his skull. He went very still. Gorgash started to speak. Pikon translated overtop the chieftain’s words.

  “Warchief says that your empire pillaged his land, killed his family, and desecrated his people,” Pikon said. “He says that he has sworn blood vengeance against all your kind, and so his soul is damned if he does not kill you and tear down all you stand for.”

  Remus fought to control his breathing, determined not to show any weakness.

  “But warchief says his soul is already damned. And a darkness from the east sends its soulless wights to hunt and enslave his people. He says Ethari have proven themselves by finally falling in battle.” Pikon’s voice was strained as he spoke of his dead brethren. “Warchief says he will honor promost’s life debt to you and give you freedom to fight. But if you flee, or falter, he will make you suffer. He will make you beg for death.”

  With a dull thud Remus’s axe landed on the ground in front of him.

  “Warchief gives you one chance,�
� Pikon said. “Take up axe and lead your men, or cower and remain chained.”

  Remus tilted his head back and looked up at Gorgash. He felt like a child kneeling before the immense barbarian. Arms crossed, Gorgash looked down at him like he was a worm, like he was something to be crushed underfoot. Remus wrapped his hand around the haft of his axe and stood, never taking his eyes from Gorgash’s face.

  Choke and die on your anger. I’ll never kneel before you again.

  There was no change in the chieftain’s expression, no acknowledgement at all of Remus’s choice. Gorgash turned and strode away, his warriors falling into step behind him.

  “You have survived warchief’s wrath,” Pikon said. “Is good thing! I thought he’d kill you.”

  Remus gave Pikon a sharp look. “And you led me to him anyway?”

  Pikon shrugged. “Was worth risk. We needed leader among captives. If he killed you, we try again later.”

  A cold chill shot through Remus. His respect and admiration of the Ethari almost lulled him into trusting them as well. But Pikon’s words were a terrifying reminder that to the Ethari, Remus and his men were just tools to be used and discarded. He wondered if the Ethari were even capable of thinking of them as people.

  Grotius and Ellion approached, giving the Ethari sidelong glances. It was obvious the two of them felt out of place in the middle of the camp.

  “That was a near thing,” Grotius said. “I thought for sure he was going to bury that axe in your skull.”

  “You sure you’re up for this?” Ellion said. “If you don’t meet his expectations, he’s going to torture you to death.”

  Remus looked at the two veterans. Fire flowed through his veins. Here was his chance. Here was the opportunity he deserved. Fate had brought him here, and now he had to reach out and claim his destiny.

  Strength and will. I’ll not be broken.

  Eyes shining in the firelight he said, “Aye, I’m up for it. I was made for this.”