“Yes, Lord,” Brayden replied as he stepped next to the skittish stallion. “I ride the waves much more assuredly than I tread the dirt, for I am a son of the sea and was born on her swells.”
Arva Vatana laughed again. “You, a child of the open ocean, and I, a horse lord roaming the free plains of the Eastnorth. Although from different worlds, we are not so dissimilar, you and I.”
Domadred came up behind Brayden and began to pull him away.
“Leave him be, sailor,” Arva bellowed, motioning to the crowd and beckoning the boy closer. “There is nothing to fear, for I am here in Mindra’s Haven flying under the banner of peace!” The crowd then let out a cheer of praise. “Son, would you like a gift to commemorate this great occasion?”
Brayden nodded. Arva reached into his coat pocket and produced a black pearl for all to see. Its dark and multicolored iridescent surface was etched with Runes that glimmered like oil in the Zenith’s light. Arva then pressed it into Brayden’s palm. The boy’s eyes grew wide with awe and Brayden took Arva’s hand firmly into his own and kissed it profusely.
Arva smiled and looked at Domadred. “Your son is very polite. You have taught him well, sailor.”
“I have done the best I can, Lord,” Domadred said, bowing his head low.
Withdrawing from Arva, Brayden grinned up at his father. The youth then palmed something into Domadred’s pocket. Domadred’s eyes widened as he looked back at Arva. The large man’s hand was now adorned by one less ring.
Arva suddenly squinted, examining Domadred with a curious gaze. “Sailor, have we met before?”
Domadred chuckled humbly and averted his gaze. “Never, Lord. I would surely have remembered such a glorious thing, as I will this day for the rest of my life.”
Stepping away and bowing deeply, Domadred turned and tipped his hat to Beck. “My noble General, I am so very sorry to have disturbed you. May the Guardians smile upon you and yours.”
“And you, too, sailor,” Beck said coldly.
As Domadred and Brayden disappeared back into the throng, Beck gave an order and the phalanx of fighting men instantly began marching. The soldiers’ boots reverberated on the dock and the crowded onlookers were all quickly set back into motion—all except for one.
Standing like an island among the flowing current of people, a lone youth was concealed by a long sleeveless black cloak. With his sword sheathed at his hip, he had a sharp yet inquisitive look that spoke of strength, power, and the tumultuous curiosity of adolescence.
CHAPTER II
With his hand resting on the pommel of his blade, Aleksi watched as the troop of soldiers marched toward the city gates. Under his hooded black cloak, he wore a sleeveless V-neck shirt that clung to his sculpted chest. Except for the white bandage that covered his right hand and wrist, the youth’s arms were bare to the shoulder, and strong. Farther down, he wore faded black pants tucked into sturdy but worn calf-high boots.
Aleksi’s hood was up, concealing an attractive face already marked by experience, though not yet by age. He had dark hair that fell to his shoulders, elegantly framing his striking green eyes. The color was eerily piercing, a telltale sign that his genealogy was of Northern descent. Most would call the youth beautiful, yet there was an unusually tense air about him. The people on the dock seemed to unconsciously sense Aleksi’s strangeness, and gave the youth a wide berth despite the throng.
Matching the flow of the crowd, Aleksi stalked toward the city gates. The captain of the trade ship on which Aleksi had just traveled had undoubtedly set sail to return to the Academy the instant Aleksi had debarked. Although he would have never acted while Aleksi was aboard, the captain would now make all haste to tell the Masters of Aleksi’s presence in hopes of claiming a substantial reward. Sadly, if they were not aware already, the Academy’s Enforcers would soon know their runaway student was in Mindra’s Haven.
Although leaving the Academy had been the most painful choice Aleksi had ever made, he now felt a measure of excitement, too. The Academies of Terra were secluded places of power reserved for a select few. Once respected and revered by all, their tall towers were now feared but mostly forgotten by the masses, having profoundly little contact with the outside world. Now outside of that sanctuary for the first time, Aleksi was experiencing a land where all austerities, traditions, and former restrictions were removed and rendered meaningless. In essence, for the first time in his young life, Aleksi was free.
As long as the Shadow Assassins and Academy’s Enforcers don’t find me, that is.
The Masters’ Vow was clear: if Aleksi was captured by Enforcers, he wouldn’t even have the luxury of being dragged back to the Academy in shackles for a trial—student deserters were immediately put to death when found by a Master. The youth swallowed hard at the thought. Aleksi was unsure which disturbed him more: the actual killing of a student, or the fact that a Master could do such a thing to one of their wards.
Even worse, if Rudra’s letter is correct, the Rune on my palm will kill me in a mere matter of days. As a child they told me this Rune was a blessing from the Arkai. Oh, how wrong they were . . .
Aleksi opened his hand and looked at his palm. Almost as if in response, the Rune pulsed painfully under his bandage and once again emitted a soft glowing light. Scowling, Aleksi quickly clenched his fist. As the sharp burning sensation dug its way deeper into his hand, Aleksi looked over his shoulder. Seeing nothing suspicious, he tried to ease his growing anxiety by focusing his mind on the crowd around him. Mindra’s Haven was alive with the anticipation of tomorrow’s proclamation. Many said that on the festival morn, the new Covenant of Eastern Amity would be signed, thereby solidifying the strength of the East and unifying the continent. All agreed that if that came to pass, it truly would be a thing of celebration, possibly ushering in a new age for Terra.
As he moved with the flow of the crowd past the docks and toward the city entrance, Aleksi’s hand reflexively dipped into his pocket, unconsciously fingering the worn parchment of Master Rudra’s cryptic letter, the fateful warning on which the youth had wagered all. His anxiety now became anger and Aleksi once again tried to suppress it. Shaking his head, Aleksi removed his hand from his cloak and looked up at the massive gates of the city wall. Before he started searching for Rudra’s obscure clues, there was something inside Mindra’s Square that he wanted to see first.
As Aleksi passed under the gilded archway of the city gates, Mindra’s Square, one of the largest marketplaces in the world, came into view. Like so many before him, Aleksi was utterly astounded by the sheer mass of humanity that was the market. He could hardly take in the immensity of the many divisions of colored stalls, stands, and tents. Winding paths connected by hundreds of tented roundabouts all fed in and out of the swelling chaos of people.
As the crowd filtered into the marketplace, a massive crystalline statue came into view. Aleksi saw the gigantic monument of the High Arkai Mindra standing proud and shining in the light of the Zenith. Said to be true to scale, the statue rose nearly twenty stories tall. Standing with its enormous wings spread wide, the mammoth work covered much of the marketplace in oddly lit shadows that shimmered on the multicolored stalls and tents below.
The monument depicted Mindra, like all Guardians, as humanoid, with the exception of its colossal wings. Due to its shining light, however, the statue’s features were obscured. The only things that could be seen clearly were its dazzling eyes of molten gold. Bright as the Zenith, their light was piercing and too powerful to look at directly. Even if the statue was depicted as clothed was a mystery, for although an Arkai or Guardian had not been seen for many ages, it was said that you could never directly look upon one. Their forms were always obscured by their splendor—a numinous light that was both powerful and terrifying.
Aleksi made his way deeper into the throng. At the Academy, he had heard much about the statue, and he was excited to finally see it with his own eyes. His teachers had said it was carved of nimral, a crystalline ma
terial created by Runes that possessed strange properties. Aleksi had seen nimral before, but this was undoubtedly the largest-known piece in all of Terra. This massive statue was said to have been a gift from the Guardians, bequeathed to remind the people of Devdan of High Arkai Mindra—their protector and savior.
As Aleksi continued walking, he shifted his attention from the statue to scan the ocean of colorful tents and stands. The youth passed hawkers and vendors, buskers and grifters, and thousands and thousands of people hailing from all across the world.
Despite trying his best to keep a low profile, Aleksi couldn’t help but notice a beautiful woman who had light-green eyes imbued with icy-blue flecks, clearly signifying her heritage from the North-Western plateaued plains nation of Kaymahn. Her booth was adorned with jewelry and pastel-dyed leather jackets, jerkins, and vests, each stitched with multicolored beads that twinkled in the Zenith light. North-Westerners were famous for their buffalo leather crafts and specially beaded jewelry.
Seeing Aleksi’s deep-green eyes, the woman bowed her head, causing her beaded necklace to splay across her ample cleavage. Aleksi felt heat rise into his cheeks as he returned the bow. The youth had been taught that the beads of the Kaymahn peoples were Runic in nature and each color and shape possessed unique properties and effects. Although the beads were weak in isolation, if enough were conjoined in close proximity, their power was said to be cumulative. More importantly, however, their method of creation was a closely guarded secret, with the North-Western capital city of Iraja being the home of the most powerful elder craftspeople.
Blending his pace with the movement of the crowd, Aleksi found his attention drawn to a wagon laden with long spears and round bucklers made of metal the color of flowing sand. Each shield was intricately carved with profoundly detailed desert scenes depicting shifting sands, blowing winds, and scattered stars. The etchings were inlaid with metalwork of slightly different shimmering hues, giving the scenes the illusion of movement and perspective. The Academy was a place of harsh austerity and this was the first time Aleksi had seen such artistic expression applied to the surface of weapons and armor.
Noticing that Aleksi was admiring his craftsmanship, the dark-skinned artisan closed his eyes, crossed his hands palms up in front of his chest, interlocked his thumbs, and then finally bowed his head to Aleksi in a show of deep respect. When the man opened his eyes again, Aleksi saw they were the color of honey and possessed flecks of molten red. Knowing the man hailed from the South-Eastern nation of Salbata, Aleksi returned the intricate bow so as to not offend. Despite this, the youth risked the disrespect of keeping his own eyes open—he could not afford to be reckless and let his guard down. Aleksi had read at the Academy that although the South-Easterners did not dwell in large cities, they were still known for their ferocity in battle, art, philosophy, honor, and love. Judging from the weapons’ artistry, Aleksi assumed this man’s work and demeanor were born from the same pride made famous in the many stories about these passionate people.
Continuing through the market, Aleksi saw people from every nation of Terra haggling, arguing, laughing, and interacting together as one cohesive sea of humanity. Everyone was busy browsing, buying, selling, or trading under the rippling shadows of Mindra’s great wings—seemingly without a care in the world.
Aleksi always thought it was strange that the Masters never let their students see the lands that they would one day be tasked to protect. How are we supposed to truly care for these people when we have no real knowledge of their lives and struggles? We are given the Runic power to preserve all life, but at the cost of being unable to truly live ourselves . . . Is power worth such a price?
Although thrilled to finally see these sights with his own eyes instead of reading about them in books, Aleksi knew that he must be vigilant and not get distracted from his mission. Rudra’s letter made it very clear that one of these people could be an assassin waiting for him with a silent blade. Pulling his hood farther over his face, Aleksi quickened his step. Regardless if it’s Shadow Assassin or Enforcer, if either finds me, I’ll have little hope of resisting them. So if I am to outrun them, I must make all haste to decipher Rudra’s letter.
As Aleksi continued moving, a large man dressed in golden silks with a rounded belly raised his arms wide as he boisterously heralded his wares: a cartload of glass orbs arranged on shelves—each orb was of a different color and filled with swirling, luminescent gas. When the man’s arms flung out, however, Aleksi reflexively raised his wrist in a quick block to avoid being struck in the head. Startled by the unintentional attack, Aleksi pushed the man back and grasped the hilt of his sheathed sword.
The fat merchant was surprised by the blow and, losing his balance, stumbled against his cart of baubles. Because of his girth, the man’s impact caused several of the glass spheres to fall from their shelf and shatter onto the cobblestones with a crash. When the orbs broke, they released a smoky white gas that instantly evaporated away into nothingness. Regaining his footing, the fat merchant looked down at his broken wares and spun at Aleksi, his large jowls rippling in anger.
“You fool!” the man shouted. “You have broken three Runic Kellrab orbs from Neberu. They are worth black pearls so concentrated they should be darker than your Northern hair!”
“The fault was yours, sir, for you struck me first,” Aleksi answered, turning to leave.
“Do not take another step!” the merchant shouted, reaching out and grabbing Aleksi’s coat. Aleksi moved reflexively in response—rotating his arm in a wide arc, he dislodged the man’s hand and once again pushed him back. What had at first been annoyance turned to anger, but Aleksi once again turned to leave.
“Those were Runic artifacts and I demand compensation immediately,” the man sputtered. “If you do not pay, I will call the market’s guards!”
“Again, the fault was yours.” A strange sensation emanated from Aleksi’s bandaged palm, and a dangerous power grew within him. “Despite that, I will give you a single pearl for your trouble. But know that I am being generous, because only a fool would think that those orbs were Runic. They are obvious counterfeits and are hardly worth the colored glass they are made of.”
“You insolent whelp! Pay for what you broke or give me something else of equal value!”
Feeling the dark power of his Rune intensify, Aleksi made no response and the fat merchant scowled at Aleksi’s sword.
“If that blade at your hip were real, it might come close to paying your debt, but by looking at you I can tell that sword is nothing more than a dull replica worn only for show and boastful bluster!” The man then spit at Aleksi, soiling the youth’s face with his phlegm.
Aleksi’s anger flared and he used his left thumb to slightly slide his blade from its sheath. “I kindly ask you to take my offered pearl and let me leave in peace. I would hate for anyone to get hurt over such a petty trifle.” Under his hood, Aleksi’s youthful gaze shone piercingly as the Runic pulsing of his palm grew stronger, causing his temper to flare. The merchant’s eyes narrowed and danced between Aleksi’s face and his sheathed blade. The man then looked over Aleksi’s shoulder and nodded with a smirk.
Aleksi instinctively swiveled and shifted his weight forward as a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders from behind. Luckily, Aleksi’s quick and skillful movement had caused his assailant to be put off balance. The youth felt his anger grow into intoxicating rage as he took a step to the side of his attacker and grasped the man’s right wrist. As the man tried to regain both his balance and grip on Aleksi, the youth simultaneously pivoted his hips and upper torso while taking another step. This time, the step was backward, causing the man to be thrown farther off balance and stumble forward onto his knees.
Aleksi, maintaining his double-handed grip on his attacker’s arm, slid one of his hands to the man’s elbow, wrenching the man’s arm behind his back at an unnatural angle. The man let out a hollow grunt of pain as Aleksi slammed his knee into the man’s rib cage. Tighten
ing his grip, Aleksi leaned into his assailant’s center of gravity, pinning his chest and face to the cobblestones.
The assailant let out a muffled wheeze of pain as Aleksi looked back up at the fat merchant, whose face was now pale and trembling.
“If you or yours lay a hand on me again,” Aleksi said harshly, feeling the dark power of his bandaged palm surge within him, “I will claim it as retribution.”
“Re-re-release him!” The fat merchant stammered, wringing his hands. “I-I am a very important man and ca-can have you killed with a si-single word!”
“You dare to think you can kill me?” Aleksi’s eyes had been cold as ice but now grew hot with uncontrolled fury as the pain of his Rune surged up his arm. Still looking at the fat merchant, the youth snarled and once again tightened his grip on his assailant’s arm. “Let your vassal’s pain teach you how profoundly mistaken you are!”
In one sharp movement, Aleksi pivoted his hips and his attacker’s wrist, elbow, and shoulder broke simultaneously with a loud pop. The fallen man let out a muffled cry of agony and the small but quickly growing crowd of onlookers all took a reflexive step backward—several of them gasping.
Releasing the man’s broken arm and taking a step toward the fat merchant, Aleksi felt the hot fire of his rage continue to build. Instead of suppressing the dark emotion, the youth reveled in its power and gripped the hilt of his sword even tighter. “All here saw that I offered recompense and was attacked unprovoked. If it happens again, I will spill your blood and see to it that your ignorance is made eternal.”
The fat merchant was now speechless—his entire body trembling and his pupils fully dilated in terror. Despite this, Aleksi felt a seductively powerful urge to kill the man where he stood. As the intoxicating feeling grew, Aleksi’s left thumb reflexively released his blade from its sheath and the burning Rune on his palm urged him to deadly action. The power was overwhelming and Aleksi’s vision narrowed until all he saw was the merchant’s quivering body—and all Aleksi felt was the desire to destroy. At the brink of action, the cryptic words of Rudra’s letter suddenly sprang into Aleksi’s mind.
Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles) Page 4