by Sandell Wall
Unaware of their silent dialog, Monstur spoke up, his deep voice echoing in the small room, “I’d rather brave the fury of the storm than stay a heartbeat longer in this dark, cold dungeon. Let us return to the surface where the rays of the sun can reach us.”
“Wait,” the man chained to the wall said. “Are you truly not minions of the governor?”
“I said as much before,” Remus said. “We’re from the east, from Delgrath and beyond.”
“How did you come to be here? Wranger has let no one enter the city for months.”
“Monstur here knocked over his gate,” Remus said, nodding at the huge barbarian. “With a little help from a runestone.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve runestones that work here?”
“The governor was shocked too,” Remus said with a smirk. “I think that’s why he let us pass.”
“You met with him or you would not be down here. What did he tell you?”
“He told us that Umgragon has been under siege by rebel forces, and that he only recently overcame these traitors to the emperor. He said that he regrets locking out the refugees, but that it was done to ensure the survival of the city.”
As Remus spoke, the man’s face twisted into a grimace—he shook his head violently, groaning as he shook in his bonds. “He lies! It’s all lies. The rebels he slaughtered were those loyal to the empire. Wranger has claimed Umgragon, and all its wealth, for himself. He locked the gates to keep people in, not out. As long as no one could leave the city, he was free to hunt down and murder those loyal to the emperor.”
“Of course you would say that,” Remus said. “You’re chained to a wall in his dungeon.”
“The gods curse your flippant tongue,” the man spat. “Listen to me. My sister, Saffrin, led the rebellion. The rebels were crushed, but she got a message to me before she left. She’s ventured into the empire, seeking help. She travels with a Rune Guard named Aventine and a blacksmith named Holmgrim. That’s all I know. If you see her, tell her…tell her that I love her and to forget about me.”
Remus felt like he had been punched in the gut. “She travels with Aventine and Holmgrim? You’re sure of this?”
“I’m sure of nothing,” the man said. “That’s what was told me by her messenger.”
“You’re one lucky bastard,” Remus said, shaking his head. “Monstur, can you break those chains?”
In answer, Monstur stepped up to the man, gripped the chains that held him to the wall between his huge fists, and tore them apart. The black stone did not give, but the metal bonds bent and snapped, dropping the prisoner to the floor. The man cried out in pain, his useless arms dropping to his sides. He slumped to the floor, unable even to prop himself up against the wall.
“Can you help him?” Remus asked Tethana.
“I can try,” Tethana answered. She knelt over the man, inspecting his injuries. Calm and confident, she braced a foot on the man’s rib cage and slowly pulled his right arm away from his body. The man screamed, but the arm popped back into socket. She repeated the process with the left arm. Quickly now, Tethana pulled her green vessel stone from beneath her shirt. She placed her healing runes on his shoulders and then passed the vessel stone over the line of rune-inscribed charms. Reacting to the stone, the bits of wood and bone glowed a vibrant green, and when the healing power started to work within the miserable prisoner, his moaning stopped and his breathing slowed.
Tethana went to work on the rest of the man’s body, focusing on the most gruesome wounds first. When she was done, the man was still bloody and bruised, but he no longer looked like he had one foot in the afterlife. His eyes were open and free of pain.
“By all that is sacred,” the prisoner said. “You’re a miracle worker. I’ve never heard of such rune power.”
“You can thank us by telling us who you are and why you’re down here,” Remus said.
“My name’s Crell,” the man said. “As I told you, my sister led the rebellion against the governor. What I didn’t tell you is that she is his wife. Wranger is a dark and twisted man, but he was not always evil. When he married my sister he was young, honorable, and full of life. That the emperor appointed him to govern the treasury district brought our family great fortune and influence through Saffrin’s role at his side. But power changed Wranger. He grew depraved, debasing himself and degrading my sister with the rumors of his vile lust. I’ve lived in Umgragon for three years now, both to watch over my sister and to remind Wranger that our family will bring down swift and bloody vengeance on his head if he were to harm her.”
Crell shook his head, a look of sorrow on his face. “We took for granted the protection and freedom the stability of the empire afforded us. When the power and influence of the emperor began to wane, Wranger saw his opportunity to wrest even more power for himself. He turned his devious mind to corrupting and converting the First Legion to forsake their oaths to the emperor and follow him instead. My sister opposed him in secret, and with her aid, I instigated a rebellion in the city. We were to all escape together, but Wranger found us out. I was captured the night that my sister fled the city. I’ve been held here ever since, tortured, but never killed. Wranger holds me for a bargaining chip, should Saffrin ever return.”
“I’m of a mind to believe you,” Remus said. “But only because you said that your sister travels with Aventine and Holmgrim. Those two names mean a great deal to me, and I cannot imagine you would know them unless what you say is true. So, I’ll give you the chance to prove yourself. Let’s go have a conversation with the governor. I suspect he’ll have much to say on this subject.”
Crell’s eyes narrowed. “He won’t waste time with words. As soon as he sees that you’ve freed me, he’ll set his Volgoth mongrels on you.”
“In that case, my barbarian’s bigger than his,” Remus said with a dangerous grin.
Galvanized by their conversation, Crell tried to stand, only to collapse to the stone floor of the cell.
“Damnation,” Crell said. “I may be on the mend, but I’m as weak as a kitten.”
“Monstur, bring him with us,” Remus ordered.
Monstur scooped Crell up with one arm and carried him like a sack of grain. Perched in the branches above Monstur’s head, Shim hissed at Crell.
Remus ignited the stone on his gauntlet and set out for the surface, leaving the orange glow of the torch behind. The gauntlet had guided him down, pointing the way to the secret tunnel entrance, but it did not provide the same assistance for finding their way out. They wandered in the darkness, trying to find the stairs they had entered the dungeon by. They passed by a myriad of doors and hallways, even stairs upward that the others encouraged Remus to try, but he refused. He was adamant that they must find the original path and return to the surface that way.
Finally, Remus’s perseverance paid off. He stumbled around a corner and found the shadowy, spiral staircase ascending into the darkness. Leading the way, Remus started the long climb upward. Once they were out of the dungeon, finding their way back to the throne room was a trifle compared to the dark maze below. They returned to the deserted feast hall to find Pikon and his squad of Ethari waiting for them.
“What word from outside?” Remus asked Pikon.
“Everyone is inside the walls,” Pikon said. “The storm will cover the city within the hour. Goregash and Promost Lister request your presence.”
“I’ll join them, but first we need to pay another visit to the governor,” Remus said. “Bring your soldiers, we might need them.”
“You expect hostilities?”
“We found a man chained in the dungeons who claims everything the governor told us was a lie. I want to see what he has to say about that.”
After considering Remus’s words, Pikon turned and issued a command to his soldiers. They unsheathed their weapons and moved to stand before the closed double doors that led to the throne room.
“Wait,” Remus said. “I didn’t say we were going to go in there and
attack him!”
“You’ve identified Governor Wranger as a potential enemy,” Pikon said. “If you wish to enter his sanctuary unprepared, I won’t stop you, but you won’t take my soldiers with you.”
“You never let down your guard, do you?”
“Not if I want to live to see tomorrow.”
“Fine, we’ll do things your way.” Remus gestured toward the doors. “After you.”
The two Ethari soldiers nearest the doors flung them open and strode into the room beyond. Shield ready, weapon in hand, Pikon followed with the rest of the squad. Remus was close on Pikon’s heels. He stopped in confusion and alarm in the doorway—the room was pitch black. The one lonely brazier had been extinguished. Before Remus could understand what was going on, Pikon shoved him so hard that he dropped to his knees. His shield raised, Pikon deflected an arrow that shot out of the darkness. It would have pierced Remus in the neck.
Pikon exploded into motion, leaping forward and barking commands in his strange language. The rest of the Ethari charged into the room—the darkness reached out and swallowed their black-armored forms. Remus activated the stone on his gauntlet, bathing the scene in otherworldly red light. Streaking across the room, the Ethari moved like black phantoms, indistinguishable from their own shadows. They made no sound. On the edge of his vision, Remus saw Wranger crouched behind his throne, wrestling to load another bolt into a crossbow.
“Where’s his bodyguards?” Remus asked.
As if in answer, a giant shadow detached itself from the wall and lunged at the nearest Ethari soldier. Twin axes in his hands, the Volgoth decapitated the surprised Ethari with one swift blow and spun to face the next soldier. Four Ethari soldiers converged on the massive brute. The twang of Wranger’s crossbow rang out, sending a bolt screaming across the room. The missile hit Monstur’s armor with a brutal thud and dropped to the floor next to Remus. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus detected motion. He turned and found the second bodyguard hurtling out of the shadows straight at them. The Volgoth had waited for the Ethari to charge into the room to spring an ambush on Remus.
“Get back!” Remus shouted, lunging to his feet and pushing Tethana back out the door.
Monstur dropped Crell and stepped forward. Shim darted up to the highest branch over Monstur’s head, yowling as the tree-clad giant swung his great maul at the charging Volgoth. The enemy warrior ducked under the swing and aimed a vicious slash at Monstur’s torso. Steel bit into wood, but Monstur’s armor repelled the axe with ease. The bodyguard did not try again—he dashed past Monstur, his murderous gaze locked on Remus. Monstur started to turn, but he was too slow in his heavy armor to keep up with the more nimble Volgoth warrior.
Pricker dashed into view, placing himself between Remus and the charging barbarian. He lashed out with his dagger, slicing deep wounds through the bodyguard’s leather armor. The warrior simply ignored Pricker. Without slowing, he smashed the Drathani aside with his bulk. Pricker went flying into the wall.
With no other option left, Remus raised his gauntlet. He twitched his fingers and unleashed the lightning. Energy poured from his hand, striking the shocked Volgoth square in the chest. The barbarian was lifted from his feet and hurled backward. Remus stepped forward, keeping the stream of lightning focused on the writhing bodyguard. Pushed across the floor by the force of the attack, the Volgoth’s body only stopped when it bumped into the steps leading up to Wranger’s throne. Remus closed his fist, cutting off the blast of lightning. A smoking ruin was all that remained of Wranger’s bodyguard.
Standing above the scorched corpse of his Volgoth henchman, Wranger had loaded another bolt into his crossbow. He stood poised before his throne, weapon pointed at Remus’s chest. Fueled by pure hatred and malice, Wranger no longer looked like the weak and dying man from before. With the stock of the crossbow jammed firmly into his shoulder, the wicked steel tip of the bolt never wavered.
“I won’t miss this time, you bitch-spawned whelp,” Wranger said. “I should have killed you the first time you stepped through that door.”
“Remus!” Tethana screamed.
Remus could feel Tethana’s terror—it sent a spike of adrenaline rushing through him. He spread the fingers on his gauntleted hand. Pricker had not shown him this, but the longer he used the gauntlet, the more attuned he became to its capabilities. He could improvise now. Fingers dancing across his palm, he sent a quick command to the vessel stone. The lightning returned, but it stayed trapped in his hand. White-hot energy glowed on his fingertips, crackling as it leapt from digit to digit. Strength flowed through him. The power of a thunderstorm glowed behind his eyes. He felt like a god.
Wranger fired his crossbow. Remus watched the bolt speed across the room. He cocked his head in curiosity—the heavy quarrel moved so slowly. Behind the projectile, he saw Wranger’s eyes tracking its path, his gaze propelling it forward, hungry to see it pierce Remus’s flesh. Remus snatched the bolt out of the air with his gauntleted hand. He squeezed his metal fist and the wood splintered and cracked. The shattered bolt dropped to the floor.
Remus dashed forward. Unprepared for the enhanced strength of his legs, he almost tripped. He flashed across the room, covering the distance to Wranger in the time to took the governor's eyes to blink. Remus slammed his armored fist into Wranger’s stomach. The strength of the blow lifted Wranger off his feet, and the governor hung in the air, suspended on Remus’s arm. On contact, the energy trapped in Remus’s hand lanced through the governor’s body. Wranger’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he shook—tendrils of lightning flickered between his perfect white teeth.
“You fear the storm that follows me,” Remus said into the governor’s face. “But it’s already here. I am the tempest’s fury.”
Disgusted, Remus tossed Wranger backward onto his black throne. The governor lay sprawled on the seat, unable to summon the strength to sit up. Mouth slack, eyes full of fear, he could only watch as Remus stood over him. Tethana tried to reach Remus, pleading for him to be merciful, but she seemed to be at a great distance. The red rage had descended.
Never breaking the governor’s gaze, Remus raised his gauntlet and blasted lightning into the man’s ravaged body. This time, Wranger screamed. Somewhere in his broken body, he found the strength to writhe in torment. When the governor’s wails of pain ceased, Remus let the lightning die. All that was left of the Lord of Umgragon was a charred husk, melted into his throne.
Remus turned from the corpse, ready to strike down the last bodyguard, but the Volgoth had succumbed to the combined might of Pikon’s squad. The danger had passed. He felt fear and concern from Tethana and looked up to see her staring at him.
“I’m not evil,” Remus sent the thought to her through their connection. “He tried to kill me. He would have killed you.”
Tethana shook her head. “His death was just, he deserved to die,” she thought back. “But I can feel what you feel. You surrendered to rage. It flowed out of you like a red river of death. In its grip, you would have killed anyone that stood in your way, cast down anyone who defied you. There…there was no room for me in that bloody maelstrom.”
Her words shook Remus to his core. He knew the rage that lurked deep inside him. That fury kept him alive. Never had he thought that another would share in his own personal madness. There was no answer he could give her. He released his hold on the gauntlet, letting the lightning dissipate. The power seeped out of his body until he felt mortal again.
Over Tethana’s shoulder, Remus could see all the way through the feast hall into the courtyard beyond. The sky had turned black. Streaks of lightning split the sky, each bolt detonating with tremendous force in the city below.
The storm had reached Umgragon.
Chapter 25
AVENTINE FROZE WITH HER sword held out in front of her. Savaroth was gone. The silver tyrant had blinked out of existence, leaving behind his honor guard. An ear-splitting crack of thunder shattered the sky—the first sheets of pelting rain swept thr
ough the great arches on the sides of the throne room. Ten paces away and closing fast, the Drathani soldiers rushed toward her. Narin and the Rune Guard would never reach her in time. Aventine alone stood between Emperor Pontius and certain death.
After everything, it comes down to this.
She pulled back her runeforged blade, dropping into a combat stance. The first two Drathani soldiers lunged through the driving rain. Moving in perfect coordination, the first went left, the second right, forcing Aventine to choose to face one and expose her back to the other. She backpedaled to keep the advancing soldiers in front of her. If one of them got behind her, she was finished.
After three steps, her heel bumped into the stairs leading to the emperor’s throne. Aventine could retreat no further. Anger and despair filled her soul. When Emperor Pontius had commanded her to slay Savaroth, she acted without hesitation, expecting to die. To now be cut down by a simple foot soldier seemed a ludicrous twist of fate that made a mockery of her struggle to protect the emperor. The culmination of her duty was to die before his throne. She was just another willing sacrifice on the altar of the empire.
Determined to sell her life dearly, Aventine leapt forward, aiming a thrust at the nearest soldier. He raised his shield to block. The second soldier lunged forward, trying to take Aventine off balance, but she was ready. Her sword skipped off the shield and whipped toward the second soldier’s head. Aventine could not avoid his attack, but she could make him pay for it. If these soldiers were anything like the ones she had fought in Tickton, she only needed to touch her runeforged blade to their helmets to take them out of the fight.
The enemy’s sword glanced off her vambrace and scored a deep gouge on her cheek. Aventine tasted blood in her mouth. Her desperate attack found its mark, the tip of her sword ringing hard against the soldier’s silver helm. His reaction was immediate. With a terrible scream, he cast aside sword and shield and flung himself to the ground. A grim smile on her face, Aventine turned to face the other soldier, only to see the rest of his squad closing in.