Sapphire Ambition (Runics Book 2)

by Jeff Kish

  As tensions mount, Sreya places her hand once more in the air. “There is no reason for anyone to lose his life today. Your daughter will be returned to you, Poulton, and your sacrifice will not go uncompensated. Do not act brashly.”

  “I do not want a fight,” Poulton replies. “I simply want to ensure my daughter’s safety as we negotiate.”

  “Negotiate?” she repeats with a smirk. “There is no negotiation when Angal Rohe makes a demand. There is either compliance or resistance. It seems you have chosen resistance.”

  Pearl is perplexed as to why this small army is seeking her. She had expected this from the military, but why the guild? Her heart races as she realizes her operational family isn’t backing down despite the overwhelming odds. She knows they would fight for her, just as she would fight for them. Summoning her courage, she marches boldly toward Sreya. “I surrender,” she calls out.

  “Good girl,” Sreya says as one of her men meets Pearl and binds her hands with a rope.

  “This is outrageous!” Poulton screams. “Just what is Rohe thinking, attacking one of his own?”

  “Take him as well,” Sreya says, and a pair of men wrestle him to the ground. Poulton’s workers start to advance, but she calls out, “We will return your boss when this affair has been resolved.” She looks to Poulton as her men bind him and asks, “Will you really have them die here?”

  Though enraged, he calls out. “At ease, men. I will plead my case to Rohe, himself.”

  Sreya looks to Pearl and says, “You acted wisely. Your father is safe as long as you comply.”

  “I will not resist. Just remember to keep your word.”

  Satisfied, Sreya barks orders to her men, and they retreat back into the woods, leaving the operation’s workers behind in stunned silence.

  * * *

  Di marches through the stone hallway of the palace, frustrated and still sore from last night’s fight with her new partner. She rubs her shoulder, which seems to have endured the brunt of whatever hit she took. Her memory is fuzzy following the standoff with her air shield, but his attack clearly got through, which infuriates her more than anything else that transpired. She had shaped her barrier to be as dense as her limits allowed. For him to penetrate it means she may be his inferior in terms of elemental control. She had always assumed runics were created as equals, and the mere possibility of being a weaker model fills her with unease.

  The runic slams an air-protected fist into the wall, crumbling the rock as she finds herself most infuriated by Opal’s insolence. He has been far too flippant about the same events that shook her world to its core. She tries to convince herself that he is a fool with no grasp of the ramifications of his bondage, but belittling him fails to lift her spirits.

  She stomps around the corner and crashes into someone. Her anger now at its boiling point, Di is about to unleash a verbal lashing until she realizes that Queen Saleen herself is standing before her, wincing from the impact while waving off an aide who fusses over her. Instinctively, Di drops to one knee and bows her head in respect of the monarch. “I’m so, so sorry!” she exclaims, not failing to notice the aide’s excoriating stink-eye. Di’s face is beet-red as she wonders how this day could get any worse.

  “Please rise,” the queen gently says.

  Di obeys, finding herself intimidated by her ruler. Saleen’s thin limbs and torso are bolstered by the dress she wears, while her crown and necklace serve to increase her natural beauty. Though pale, she stands with a sturdy posture, and her eyes reflect both kindness and strength. “Y-Your Majesty, I’m sorry I-”

  “It is alright,” she calmly interrupts. “I was equally at fault, so please accept my apology as well.”

  The runic averts her eyes and mumbles, “Please excuse me, then…”

  She starts to step aside, but the queen asks, “Do you have time to talk?” Di is surprised by the request, and the ruler continues, “I was just headed to my garden for a stroll, and I would adore fresh company. Are you headed somewhere important?”

  Di had been taking a long walk to blow off steam before their upcoming meeting with the general. Compared to such a request from the queen, it hardly seems important anymore. “Not at the moment.”

  “Your Majesty,” the elderly aide frantically pleads, “perhaps this maiden is not the best to-”

  “Oh, hush now, Maydri,” she scolds before turning back to Di. “You’ll accompany me, then?”

  Di obediently follows the queen back down the hall, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at the old lady who refuses to take her eyes off her. Still, Di keeps silent, unsure of how to properly speak when in the presence of a monarch.

  Saleen doesn’t seem so inhibited by protocol. “My name is Saleen. What is yours?”

  The runic sheepishly replies, “It’s complicated.”

  “How can a name be complicated?” Saleen asks, her lips curled in amusement.

  “It’s just that…” Di starts, but after a moment’s pause she softly says, “You can call me Di.”

  “What a sweet name, Di,” she grins. “Didn’t you used to have longer hair?”

  “Yes, I cut it,” she affirms. “Grows back fast, too. I need to cut it every few days.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I have a lot of strange quirks.”

  The monarch tries to process this. “I’m aware of what they claim you to be, but I guess I’m still trying to understand how that’s possible. I’ve only truly seen you once before. At that time…” her voice fades as memories of Di’s initial introduction come to mind.

  Di shrinks back as she recalls her first kill, all part of Graff’s demonstration of her abilities. “I’m so sorry for that.”

  Saleen shakes it off. “It was unsettling, but, as I continue to understand your situation, it seems you are not in complete control of your actions. Is that correct?” Di nods. “What happens if you disobey?”

  Di puffs her cheeks. “There is no disobedience. If he gives me a command, I don’t just have to do it. I want to do it, and I will do anything in my power to complete my mission. My own will isn’t restored until I’ve accomplished the task.”

  The queen’s brow furrows as she tries to make sense of the explanation. “How horrible,” she laments.

  Di isn’t sure what to make of the comment. She had assumed the two monarchs approved of her enslavement and role in military operations, and yet Saleen’s body language suggests the opposite.

  The two exit the palace and enter into the warm sun. The queen’s garden is host to endless rows of bushes that are trimmed daily. A magnificent flower bed sits along each side of the walkway as it winds through the tall greeneries, offering both a scenic and private journey through the contained grounds, built within the interior of the palace.

  Saleen forcibly commands her helper to remain inside before turning to find Di deeply breathing the summer air, and the queen watches her with an intense curiosity. “Is it true what he said, then? About how you’re not… not a…”

  “That I’m not a human?” Di callously finishes while admiring a line of golden lilies. “Not according to our informant, and so far he’s been right about everything else.”

  “And what do you think?” the queen asks.

  “I’m a rune,” she responds quickly and coldly.

  “That you would so readily accept such a scenario…” the queen laments. “What if he is wrong? What if you’re really still a child? Someone’s daughter?”

  Di’s eyes fall to the stone walkway. “That’s no longer possible. I mean, I feel human enough, but how else can I explain this?” Forming a tiny blade along her finger, she pulls a strand of hair taut, slices it, and hands it to the queen.

  Confused, Saleen watches until the hair becomes a wisp of air and dissipates. She gasps at the sight.

  “Makes for clean haircuts, at least,” Di quips. “I saw my friend’s arm do the same kind of thing. We must be runes.”

  The queen continues to study her hand, as i
f still trying to decipher a magic trick. “That’s remarkable.”

  Di runs her hand through her shortened hair and enjoys a cool breeze as it sweeps through the garden. “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but all my memories of my home, my father… they were all fabrications of whoever made me. I’m not even a teenager! I’m three hundred years old, if that Ares guy can be believed.”

  Saleen recalls the general’s audacious claims made during her introduction to the runic. “How could that be?”

  “It’s less outlandish than it seems, if myths surrounding the Third Kingdom are even remotely true,” Di says. “It should be no surprise that they had such advanced rune technology as to make humanoid weapons of war like me.”

  The queen squirms uncomfortably. “Even if all those other things are true, how can you assume you were created for war?”

  “They programmed me with a skillset and prowess to dominate the battlefield, plus I’m an elite air shaper to boot. I’d say their intentions for me are clear.”

  “But you still have a will of your own, yes?” she asserts. “Your own desires, your own loves?”

  “Well… sure,” Di agrees in confusion, “though all that is erased the moment I receive a command.”

  “Which makes it all the more important to be yourself when you’re able,” Saleen contends. “You may be forced to obey the general’s commands, but don’t let him change who you are! And don’t be telling yourself lies about who you think you might be. You’re Di, and don’t you forget it.”

  Di is stunned by the queen’s short lecture. Tears well in her eyes as her academic front gives way to the scared teenager whose identity has been stripped away. “I don’t even know who ‘Di’ is anymore,” she says between sniffles.

  “Even if some of your memories were fabricated, you still have real ones as a foundation,” she remarks. “Look to those for guidance.”

  Like a raging river, authenticated memories flood into her mind. Everything from her frightening capture, to her daring rescue by Era and Jem, to their eventful journey with Fire, and her own demeanor through all of it as the daughter of a wealthy mayor. She smiles to herself and says, “I think, deep down, I must be a whiny brat.”

  The queen giggles politely. “We often look to our faults. Try to see beyond them.”

  “What about you?” Di playfully asks. “You’re beautiful, you have the loveliest garden in the kingdom, and you’re married to the ruler of all of Valvoren! Do you have any faults?”

  Saleen smiles warmly. “Oftentimes we perceive perfection in others, but it is never quite what it seems.” She places a hand on Di’s shoulder and says, “You’re a strong young maiden, Di. Seek out your own identity, independent of those around you.”

  The runic finds herself comforted by the kind-hearted attitude. It has been too long since she has enjoyed a real conversation with someone like this. Thanks to Graff’s demonstrations, her comrades in arms already see her as a heartless creature, and the general would never allow her to enjoy a friendship even if one were to begin. For this reason, Di already knows she must keep this conversation a secret for as long as possible. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I-”

  “Please, call me Saleen.”

  Di is startled by the request. “O-Okay… Saleen.” Regretfully, she bows and says, “I’m afraid I must be off to meet with his most excellent General Graff.”

  Saleen raises an eyebrow. “His most…? Very well, Di.”

  After a few steps, the runic turns back to her newfound friend and asks, “Would you mind if we chat again, sometime?”

  “I would like that very much,” Saleen says, and she waves as Di makes her exit. Once the queen returns to her garden stroll, the world starts spinning around her. She collapses to her knees while taking deep breaths, and her aide quickly appears from the palace. Saleen closes her eyes and thinks back to what Di said. ‘No, I’m not perfect at all…’

  * * *

  Di bounds into the sparring hall, a spring in her step as she approaches her new peer.

  “What’s with you, Diamond?” Opal asks as he playfully builds charge in one of his hands, the electricity sparking and crackling between his fingers as he clutches a leg of lamb in the other hand. “You’re in a good mood,” he says as he bites into his meat.

  “Nothing you won’t ruin,” Di pouts. “Why are you always eating?”

  “Food is everywhere, here! I never dreamed a place like this existed. Oh, right, but you grew up rich, so I guess you wouldn’t know.” After chewing another mouthful, he snickers, “You deserve the name Diamond, rich girl.”

  “Ugh, please just call me Di.”

  “I was ordered to call you that. I can’t help it,” he claims.

  “Liar.”

  He shrugs his apathy. “My name is Opal now, so yours should be Diamond. It matches better if we use our code names.”

  “They’re not code names, you moron,” Di huffs as she finds a chair. “They’re new personas controlled by his most excellent General Graff. It’s not who I really am, and it’s not who you really are, either.”

  “Sure it is,” he says. “I’m now an elite soldier in the Valvoran military! Gramps said it himself.”

  “G-Gramps?” she squeaks.

  “Yeah, General Gramps,” Opal says matter-of-factly. “Alam was a street rat with no purpose. Opal is built to be a hero who defends the realm from evil! There’s no real question which I’d pick.”

  “You can’t just blindly accept this new reality,” Di says with a disdainful groan.

  “Why not? Just because you can’t?” he pointedly asks. “Because you had fake memories of a cushy life, with parents and money and a home? I had none of those things.”

  “You still don’t,” Di counters, “and now you’re a slave. Is that really what you want?”

  “Slave or not, I have a purpose, now,” he says. “My life has meaning. It has significance!” With a grunt, he adds, “And yours does too, if you’d stop long enough to see it.”

  Di shudders at the thought of accepting her current reality. The only thought that keeps her going is the hope that she can eventually escape Graff’s control. Embracing her fate would invite the despair she has been fighting since her bondage. “I’ll resist his most excellent General Graff’s commands until my last breath,” she promises.

  “An attitude which will only cause you harm,” Graff’s voice booms as he enters the hall.

  Opal drops his meal, wipes his mouth, and jumps to attention, excited his new hero has arrived. Di averts her eyes, still unable to willingly face the general.

  “You’re already becoming a fine soldier, Opal,” he says.

  “Thanks, Gramps!” he replies.

  Di gleefully awaits Graff’s reaction, but, to her dismay, he merely shifts and instructs, “Opal, part of becoming a fine soldier is using my title.”

  The newbie’s face turns red as he again salutes. “Sorry, General Gramps. Graff! Sir!”

  Graff salutes back, but Di can no longer take it. “That’s it? You’ve physically beaten me for lesser offenses. What gives?”

  The general places his hands behind his back and approaches Di, who reactively shrinks back. “Opal has embraced its role, so it deserves patience as it learns what it means to be a soldier.”

  “Ummmm… it?” Opal asks, raising a finger.

  Continuing, Graff declares, “You, on the other hand, continue to resist your role, which is making you weak. Even more so than I first thought.”

  Di’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the reason you lost to Opal,” he says. “You didn’t want to fight it. You resisted my command, and you lost power. Opal therefore defeated you in spite of your experience advantage.”

  “That’s quite a theory,” she replies in doubt.

  “It’s true that I conjectured it following your fight, but it is no longer a theory,” Graff explains. “Commander Marmela and I ran Opal through substantial testing last night, and the
results from the study are clear. Your power is limited when your will conflicts with my own.”

  “It’s true,” Opal chimes in as he stretches his arms. “It was a late night, too. That Marmela lady… She never quits.”

  Di wonders if that’s true, yet she offers a smug smirk. “I guess that’s too bad, huh? Your weapon is useless.”

  Graff’s gaze pierces straight to her soul. “On the contrary, Diamond, this is dire for both of us. If you were to enter a fight with another runic, you would end up dead.”

  A chill runs down Di’s spine. She had begun to view herself as invulnerable, even in spite of her defeat at Opal’s hands. After all, she was caught off guard by his powers, and she had already begun to work on strategies to defeat her foolish partner.

  “Oh! Oh!” Opal exclaims, his hand raised in the air. “Can we fight again? I want to see our theory in action.”

  Graff nods. “That is exactly what I had in mind. My gratitude, Opal.”

  Di is disgusted. “What good will that do? You just want to prove your stupid idea so you can rub it in my face.”

  “Quite the opposite,” he solemnly warns. “If your powers are weakened, Diamond, then we must hone them to the best of our ability. Therefore, you will spar with Opal to keep your skills at their finest, even when it defeats you.”

  “No, you only want to-”

  “What I want is to protect this nation from the villains who want us all dead!” Graff bellows, his voice echoing against the stone walls. “That is what I want, Diamond. Unfortunately for us all, a prepubescent brat like you is critical to the success of that mission. So, yes, we will spar and spar and spar, again and again! Until you and Opal are as good as you can be.”

  The room is deadly silent. Opal holds his breath, while Di turns away from her conductor. Her entire body trembles with hatred for everything Graff represents. She refuses to accept his words as truth.

  “This time, the first runic to fall to the ground will be deemed the loser,” Graff announces. “Now, prepare yourselves!”

  “Don’t need to tell me twice,” Opal excitedly says, his fingers crackling with voltage. He grabs a metal staff at his feet and starts swinging it clumsily around. “The fight is more of a formality, though. The real soldier is already guaranteed to win!”