Rune Warrior

by Frank Morin

  The rest of the team appeared around them. Sarah wore form-fitting leather armor, while Tomas and Alter both dressed like gladiators. The armor was minimal, but they could tweak that later, if needed. Tomas had clothed himself in his favorite battle suit. Eirene didn’t miss Sarah’s appreciative smile.

  “Where are they?” Alter asked, settling into a fighting crouch, gladius at the ready, even though his eyes kept drifting to Sarah.

  “They’re already walking a memory,” Eirene said. “Can’t you feel the pull?”

  She had noticed it immediately, like an undertow, trying to pull her mind in a different direction and transform the reality of the memoryscape. She’d worn the primary helmet on the first machine, with Gregorios linked to her, and Tomas riding as the second passenger. Together, she and Greg should be able to better withstand John and Paul.

  Alter lowered his sword and nodded slowly. “I do. It’s weak, like they don’t really want us there.”

  “That must be why we appeared in my memory instead of syncing to their already-active one.” Eirene hadn’t realized there was a way to block other machines from syncing, and she didn’t like it, although in this case, she was glad they got a minute to get organized and for Alter to get used to his new role.

  For the first time, he’d taken the primary helmet at a machine. With the greater force of his Cui Dashi nevra core, he should be better able to withstand Paul’s manipulations of the memoryscape. In particular, they didn’t want Paul again ripping Sarah out of the joint memory into an isolated location. She was Alter’s only passenger, so hopefully Alter could protect her.

  “If they don’t want us, that’s all the more reason to pay a visit,” Tomas said. The same battle-axe Alter had conjured to such great effect in Florence appeared in his hands. He used it to squash the head of a small, doglike creature that popped into the air beside him.

  “It could be a trap,” Eirene warned. “They’ll have home-court advantage.”

  “Stay sharp,” Gregorios said. “Let’s go with it. Stick to the plan.”

  “We have the escape runes,” Tomas pointed out.

  “You escape,” Alter said with a scowl. “I’m here to fight.”

  “Behave,” Eirene said. “And follow my lead.”

  She eased her hold over the memory and allowed her mind to be swept away by the mental undertow.

  Reality blurred, then re-formed. They stood in a spacious stone room, lined with columns. It was plain by ancient Roman standards, with a low set of stairs leading up to a wide exit that emptied onto a covered portico outside.

  Paul and John stood not far away, dressed in white togas like senators, although Paul still wore his ever-present hat. The tilt of his head might indicate annoyance at their arrival.

  Good. He’d be far more than annoyed in a moment.

  She frowned as she looked around. The room was a bit loose, some of the details blurred, as if not quite complete. It felt fake, like a movie set.

  Then she understood. Paul had figured out how to find a memory not directly linked to one of his people. He was projecting the details as he understood them, but lacked the power of true memory.

  When she and Gregorios arrived, the memory still remained slightly fuzzy. Neither of them had lived this particular moment either. Strange. She couldn’t imagine what Paul might gain from a fabricated memory moment.

  Spartacus stood slightly apart from the others, dressed in his favorite gladiator armor, and wearing Tomas’ body instead of the suit he’d worn during those years. When he spotted Eirene, he saluted with his ever-present spear, but did not rush to fight when he noticed the body she wore. So his modern-day soul was present in the memory, not his historical memory projection.

  “Greetings,” Paul said, his gaze sweeping the company before settling on Sarah. “Beloved, I suspected you might bring this chattel today to witness your commitment to my service.”

  Tomas and Alter both swayed forward, prepared to leap into battle, but Eirene waved them back. If only they could attack directly, but in that approach lay defeat. They had to play the game first.

  Sarah stepped to the front of the group. “I have a few questions.”

  Paul swept off his hat and smiled. A long table appeared between the opposing groups, heaped with food and wine.

  A venomous snake slithered off the table toward Paul, but Spartacus impaled it with his spear. Paul didn’t even bother to watch, his gaze never wavering from Sarah.

  “Please, sit. Eat.”

  “You first,” she said.

  Paul tossed his hat onto the table and sat. John followed more slowly. He kept glancing at Gregorios, his expression worried. It should be. Spartacus didn’t sit, but hovered just behind the other two. They were going to have to separate him soon, but Eirene was interested in hearing what Paul had to say.

  Sarah settled uneasily into a chair, and Eirene sat beside her. “I was expecting threats and heka thugs. You’re breaking with tradition.”

  Paul glanced at her. “Your nevra core will serve a higher purpose.” He turned back to Sarah. “Until then, as a gesture of my goodwill, you may keep them.”

  “You’re feeling pretty full of yourself today,” Gregorios said as he dropped into a chair and reached for a steaming roast. “Let’s hear your proposal. Then we’ll go with preemptive violence.”

  “I am hopeful you will see reason,” Paul said to Sarah.

  “You weren’t speaking reason the last time we met,” Sarah said, doing an admirable job of controlling her fear.

  Gregorios began to eat, outwardly at ease, but he had sat far enough away to not interfere with any weapon Eirene chose to summon when the conversation went south. The others spread out behind her, but didn’t sit.

  “We have clashed enough to take the measure of one another,” Paul said, sipping from a delicate wine glass. “You have proven yourself, beloved. I also see how your facetaker allies remained in power for so long.”

  “I just took over as chairman recently,” Gregorios said. “If that’s a long term commitment to you, don’t buy bonds.”

  “You know what I mean,” Paul said. “You’ve lived for millennia. Why risk all that?”

  “Let me guess,” Eirene said. “You’re offering a better option.”

  “I offer the only option.”

  Behind Paul, a man swept into the spacious room from the portico, surrounded by a host of toga-clad senators. He wore a crimson robe and a laurel wreath crown. The crowd paused on the steps, arguing. The man dressed like an emperor looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

  “Hey, I saw this movie,” Sarah exclaimed. “That’s Julius Caesar.”

  The scene clicked in her memory. This was indeed a mock-up of the Ides of March, 44 B.C.

  “The film from the fifties was always my favorite representation,” Paul said.

  That’s why everything looked so fake. They had recreated a false memory, based on the right period, but populated with remembered scenes from a movie. Eirene was impressed that they managed to get it to work. What she couldn’t understand was why.

  Gregorios said, “I guess John wasn’t such a coup after all. Can’t get the memories you want, can he?”

  John looked more nervous than ever. “Not everyone is as clever as you think they are.”

  “You’ve proved that point,” Gregorios said, giving John the full weight of his glare.

  Eirene studied John. His response had been pitched as defiance, but something in the words hinted that he might be trying to communicate a different message. She hadn’t headed up the facetaker intelligence arm for centuries without picking up on such nuances.

  While she puzzled over the possible implications, Sarah asked, “Is that what Caesar really looked like?”

  “Not really,” Gregorios said.

  Eirene felt his mind pull against the fabric of the memoryscape John and Paul had constructed. The rest of the cast remained the same, but suddenly Caesar transformed from Louis Calhern,
the actor who had played him in the movie, to the real man. Muscular from his years of military conquest, his presence dominated the room as he always had. There was around him always the feel of a predator that made most mortals nervous. Some of the other details of the room sharpened a little too.

  “That’s him,” Gregorios said.

  “For another minute,” Paul added.

  A gorilla dropped out of the air near the table. Its fur was black and it sported a mass of writhing snakes atop its head. Tomas moved to intercept the creature, but Spartacus moved faster. He impaled the beast with his thick spear, managing to not spray blood across the table in the process.

  That was uncharacteristically helpful. The tingle of unease Eirene had been feeling since John’s unusual comment grew into open concern. Something else was going on here, something they were missing. Any mistakes when dealing with Cui Dashi were invariably fatal.

  Somehow, Paul held the advantage despite the appearance of the opposite.

  “Thank you, Spartacus,” Paul said as the big man returned to his position behind Paul’s shoulder. He then addressed Sarah. “Do you have any other questions, most favored of all mortal servants, or shall we proceed?”

  Behind him, one of the senators suddenly yanked on Caesar’s robes and tried to stab him. Others joined in and within seconds, dozens of men surrounded the emperor, stabbing and jostling for a chance to strike. His cries of pain echoed through the chamber, along with the frantic shouts of amateurs trying to murder a king.

  “That’s horrible,” Sarah said, looking away.

  “It’s more or less accurate,” Gregorios said.

  His mind again tugged at the memory, and in that instant Eirene realized their mistake and the warning John was trying to convey.

  “Greg, wait!”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Praise the gods and the facetakers, my father succumbed to madness before taking my life as he has so many of my brothers. Rome is mine, Shahrokh’s position is secure. I will take more lives than even the great Julius.

  ~Emperor Claudius, 41 A.D.

  The room snapped into sharp focus, truly becoming the antechamber adjacent to the Theatre of Pompey where the real assassination took place. The senators became realistic representations of the men who Eirene had known.

  Gregorios had taken control of the memory. This must have been the moment he arrived in the room, too late to prevent the attack, but in time to salvage the situation.

  This was the moment Paul had been hunting, and they just gave it to him.

  The sounds of ripping cloth and steel plunging into flesh reverberated through the room, punctuated by cries of pain from the dying emperor and shouts of hatred by the conspirators.

  Paul smiled in victory. “Power always shifts to the strongest. No matter how great a mortal believes himself to be, he is still but a single blade away from death.” He chuckled. “Or in this case, twenty-three.”

  “You expect to find a master rune here,” Eirene said, rising and flexing her hands.

  She still believed they were correct in their analysis. The best chance to find a master rune was during the fall of Rome, but this moment would have been her second choice. The assassination of Julius Caesar initiated events that led to the overthrow of the republic and the establishment of the empire.

  Paul also rose. “The death of Caesar was the most important event of these days. Bow to me, Sarah, and pledge your life and undying devotion to my cause. Do so, and I will raise you to glory no other woman has ever achieved and spare the lives of your pitiful friends. Defy me again, and guarantee their destruction.”

  He finished in a shout and threw out his arms in victory just as Caesar fell, unmoving. Time slowed and everything became clearer. The victorious shout of the conspirators, the brilliant crimson of the blood spreading around the fallen man. The echoes from Paul’s declaration reverberated through the room, slowly fading.

  Nothing happened.

  No master rune appeared, and time again resumed its normal pace. Paul looked around, confused.

  Gregorios, who had remained seated, spoke around a mouth full of chicken. “Pretending to be wise works better when you know what you’re talking about.”

  “Caesar didn’t die.” Spartacus added with a frown. “But not for lack of trying.”

  Paul’s expression of victory faded and for the first time he looked shaken. He whirled on John. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I wasn’t there,” John said with an innocent expression.

  “Wait a minute,” Sarah said. “You messed with Caesar? Really?” She had recoiled from Paul’s rant, and a wicked, curved blade had appeared in her hands, like a small sickle. Eirene recognized it as a favorite instrument of castration of the Chinese, and she wondered where Sarah had learned about it.

  “They did terminate his body,” Gregorios said, “but not quickly enough. I removed his soul and completed the transfer to Octavian like we’d been planning.”

  “Demons,” Alter spat.

  That caught Paul’s attention and he regarded Alter with new interest. Maybe the fact that they included a hunter in their party would worry him. He didn’t have to know the truth.

  Paul turned to Spartacus. “But you were here. You orchestrated the whole thing.”

  “Oh, he was lurking about,” Eirene said. “But he wasn’t here during the actual assassination. He was with the gladiators they had brought in as backup. I chased him off while Gregorios recovered Caesar’s soul.”

  “As Octavian, Caesar was pretty upset when Cleopatra turned to Antony,” Gregorios added. “That broke Baladeva’s base of operations in Egypt.”

  “But there has to be a master rune,” Paul protested. “This moment was pivotal.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty important,” Gregorios said. “But…”

  His voice trailed off as the ground began to shake.

  On the steps, Caesar spoke, his agonized declaration ringing with far more power than it ever could have possessed in real life. “Dying wasn’t supposed to hurt so much.”

  “What?” Sarah exclaimed. “What about ‘Et tu Brute?’“

  “Poetic license,” Eirene said with a shrug.

  The shaking of the ground intensified, then stopped. The ceiling faded away above them, opening up an unobstructed vista of the bright blue sky above.

  “That is really unfortunate,” Gregorios muttered, rising to his feet.

  “No!” Sarah exclaimed. “Stop it. Do something.”

  “It’s too late,” Eirene said as her eyes were drawn upward along with everyone else’s.

  A huge rune blazed above the city, burning with white-hot fire. It seared into Eirene’s eyes, bonding to her core instantly, becoming part of her, a piece she could never forget.

  It was a marvel, but less impressive by full magnitudes than the master rune from Berlin. She hadn’t seen that one in person, but Gregorios had shown it to her, and even the reproduction of it had shaken her.

  This one blazed in the sky with brilliant intensity and its power thrummed through her soul. And yet it wasn’t the rune Paul must have been hoping for.

  “It’s a lesser master rune,” Sarah muttered.

  “That doesn’t make any kind of sense,” Tomas said.

  It was true though. They’d been right and wrong at the same time. This rune was not among the most powerful, but it still represented a terrible danger in the hands of Paul.

  He laughed, eyes glued to the rune. “I knew it! Nothing can stop me now.”

  “I find these do a pretty good job,” Tomas said.

  He held a grenade launcher, tube loaded and pointed at Paul, who still focused on the rune.

  Eirene dove aside.

  Tomas fired.

  The explosion still tumbled her across the room. Dust and debris and splattered remnants of food rained down all around her. Her ears rang from the blast and she tasted blood and sand.

  She rolled over, coughing, trying to see through the bil
lowing smoke. She doubted the explosion killed Paul, but it might have slowed him down.

  The head of Spartacus’ spear slammed into the floor right next to her head, shattering the tile and sinking several inches into the ground beneath.

  Eirene stared at the shaft that quivered from the impact, close enough that she could smell the polish worked into the grains. She looked up to find Spartacus looming above her.

  He laughed. “You should see your face!”

  These are dark days, but I worry they may grow darker before we again see peace. Nava, my love, I wish you were here to fight by my side. In the hour of our greatest trial we shall stand resolute and fulfill every measure of our oath. Hunters have protected the world since the days of Moses. We cannot fail now.

  ~Melek

  Chapter Seventy

  Gregorios groaned and spat dirt and splinters. He couldn’t see through the thick cloud of smoke filling the room. He had reacted a split second too slow when Tomas pulled the trigger on that grenade launcher and caught the blast full in the face.

  He’d already re-formed his damaged tissue, but wondered if his face back in the real world was burned. He was going to transfer Tomas into a fresh body when they got out of this memory and then beat that body to the point of death before transferring him back. He admired Tomas’ presence of mind to summon the weapon, but he could’ve picked something with a little more finesse, like a wood chipper.

  What galled the most was that he had walked right into Paul’s trap. The smug Chinaman might be Cui Dashi, but Gregorios was mad enough that he didn’t care. He’d learned some wonderful torture techniques in his days with the Romans, and he planned to use them all.

  Before he could haul himself to his feet, John materialized out of the gloom and dropped to his knees right next to him. The move was strangely considerate. Gregorios wouldn’t even need to lunge in order to strangle the fool.