Box of Runes An Epic Fantasy Collection

by J. Thorn

  Some members of the council dropped their heads while others wiped tears from their faces. The omens foretold of this time and the chief elder’s commands fulfilled the prophecies. The coming moons could reveal the true path.

  Machek helped the Soothsayer out of the tent as the meeting adjourned. The others shuffled through the flap and into the dusty day, gazing at their feet or across the distant horizon.

  “I fear we killed all hope,” said Machek.

  “One must stand at the bottom before climbing towards the top,” replied the Soothsayer.

  As they shuffled towards the Soothsayer’s dwelling, a commotion arose from behind them. Women wailed and children ran in fear.

  “Wait here,” said Machek. He sat the Soothsayer on a weathered rock and ran towards the altercation. His hand found the hilt of his sword and caressed it, and he reached out to grab a woman running past.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  “A beast, a man, something is in the village. It has two heads!” She broke his hold and continued running into the forest. Another woman carrying an infant fell to the ground, wailing.

  “What is in the village?” Machek asked.

  “Double-headed men have risen from the Earth Goddess. They walk amongst us,” she said.

  Machek lifted her chin towards his face, but she refused to utter another sound.

  He entered the village center, where three figures stood with their backs to him. Broken urns littered the ground. An occasional dog scampered through the area, whimpering with its ears pinned back. All of the villagers had fled, and fires burned unattended. The naked figures stood in a line. Machek lifted each foot as if he were in a dream. The figures remained still except for the expansion and contraction of their lungs. The powers of the Spirit tugged at Machek’s belt, attempting to hold him back. He stared into their faces; the Book of Horoscopes foretold it. Machek stopped an arm’s length from the figure on the far left. He forced words from his mouth with the greatest of effort.

  “Who are you?” he asked. They did not respond. He placed his hand on the right shoulder of the man, and icy shocks ran through his arm and into his body. “Who are you? The lord major of the Jaguar Knights commands you to answer.”

  A throaty chuckle emanated from the beast. “You know us well,” it replied.

  Machek fought disorientation. He saw two heads sitting on one set of shoulders. All three figures in front of him had two heads. “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “You know the prophet of the Second Sun foretold our arrival. The old man shared this with you.”

  To Machek’s ears, it sounded as if the replies came from both mouths, in unison.

  “The omen,” Machek said.

  “This surprises you, Lord Major?” the figure delivered with a mocking tone.

  “I can strike you down this instant,” said Machek, speaking to the back of their heads.

  “If you do, you will have failed us.”

  The figure turned to face Machek. Worms fell from rotting eye sockets. Grey flesh on the skulls bubbled as insects attempted to escape. Both skulls dropped their lower jaws into evil grins of the dead. Laughter rolled from their disgorged tongues and across the village center. Machek froze. An instant later, the creature in front of him vanished. When he looked to his right, the other two creatures disappeared as well.

  The Soothsayer grabbed for his cane as the rock shifted under him. He could not see into the village center and he did not see Machek approaching him, but the Soothsayer knew the final omen had come to pass.

  Chapter 18

  Life and hope drifted away from the charred bodies. The massacre had dulled the blades of the warriors, and they gathered the sick, old, and the young and tied them to a wooden post, scrap wood piled at their feet. On Acatel’s command, the soldiers lit the blaze. Screams of desperation and pain engulfed the crackle of bone and flesh in the fire. The entire village traveled beyond the Region of the Dead, except for Shinta and her daughter. Acatel spared them the sight of the slaughter, but he did not protect them from its sounds and odors. Warriors inspected each dwelling, gathering useful items, rations, or crude weapons, and setting the huts on fire. The blaze of destruction competed with the rays of the Sun God. When the killing and looting ended, Acatel’s men drank and gambled, two activities common to many regiments.

  “You call yourself a warrior?” Shinta asked, fighting to push her words through a wall of tears and grief.

  “Would you like a drink from my flask?” Acatel asked with a tone of frivolity.

  “We are not celebrating harvest, you imbecile,” said Shinta.

  Acatel walked to her daughter. He drew his dagger and sliced off her left ear. The girl screamed and sobs took control of her body as blood ran down her neck and pooled in her left palm. Acatel leaned over and licked the blood from her neck.

  “I know you have consigned yourself to fate, so I will retaliate on your daughter. Care to share any more of your insubordination?”

  Shock raced through Shinta’s body, her attempt to console her daughter thwarted by the leather binds. “If you plan to use me, then do it. But please spare my child.”

  “That is not your decision.”

  A warrior stepped into the hut. “My lord, the village is secure and the men found entertainment. The Sun God will rise in a short time. What are your orders?”

  “We will continue our march with the Sun God,” Acatel replied.

  The commander bowed. He glanced up at the bleeding girl and tearful woman bound in the tent. Acatel grabbed the man by his hair and threw his head back.

  “Take your eyes off of my property or I will remove them from your pathetic skull.”

  The warrior dropped his chin to his chest and scuttled out of the hut. Shinta closed her eyes and asked the Earth Goddess to swallow them both, and to spare them from the coming pain.

  “Please, pardon the interruption. One smell of female flesh and the men lose their senses. I think the young one aroused him.”

  Acatel enjoyed the verbal play and fed off the pain and emotion of the women bound before him. He walked towards Shinta and decided he would take her first. The young one would provide more moments of pleasure on the march towards the People of the Sun.

  Shinta felt a slight tear in the leather bindings on her wrists and worked to exploit it. She hoped for a lone opportunity to save herself and her daughter.

  Acatel stood beside her and loosened his belt. His tunic and coverings met the floor with a thump, and his musky scent filled Shinta’s nostrils. Behind her back, she freed both hands from the leather strap, but kept them together. Acatel moved towards her, his manhood growing and reaching upward. When he placed it near her mouth, Shinta grabbed with both hands and yanked as hard as she could. A howl shot from Acatel’s mouth, pain racing upward from his groin. He doubled over, vomiting from the immense strain in his abdomen. Shinta pulled a loose brick off the fire pit and brought it down upon the back of Acatel’s skull with a wet thud. He fell silent and motionless. Fighting tears and her own fear, Shinta found Acatel’s dagger on his belt and cut the leather straps on her daughter’s wrists and ankles.

  “Go. Run as far as you can and do not stop until you reach another village.”

  “But mother, I want you to come with me.”

  “I will catch up to you. If I stay here, I can buy you a little more time before they realize you are gone. Run. Now!”

  Shinta’s daughter stood and rubbed her wrists. “I love you, mother,” she said.

  “I love you too, Sianta. Go before the sentry returns.”

  Sianta crawled under the edge of the hut and into the night. Shinta heard the clanking of weapons and knew the sentry was coming to investigate the howl of pain. She threw two deep clay pots onto the cot and covered them with a tattered blanket. In one movement, she ripped her clothing, exposing her intimate places. Acatel lay unconscious on his back with his flaccid manhood in clear view.

  “Sir, what is happening her
e?” the guard asked as he burst into the hut.

  Shinta moaned. She sat astride Acatel. The rhythmic motion hypnotized the young warrior.

  “Can’t you see what we are doing? Leave before he puts a dagger in your throat.”

  “Where is the young one?” the guard asked.

  “Asleep under the blankets, you fool. She is a child and cannot last as long as I can.”

  As if on cue, Acatel groaned and turned his head.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, my lord,” the sentry said.

  “Protect our privacy and I will come to your hut next,” said Shinta, lifting her breasts with both hands.

  The sentry smiled and exited the hut. Acatel started to wake when she gripped the brick and struck him a second time. Shinta pulled her garments together and grabbed the dagger on the ground. She turned to lift the edge of the hut and follow her daughter when a hand grasped her foot. Shinta froze in terror.

  “I am young, but I am not a fool, you wench. You will serve me before my lord awakes from his injury, and then you will answer to him.”

  The sentry grabbed both of Shinta’s ankles and pulled her back into the hut. He beat her and took her several times. When he finished, he gagged Shinta so she could not speak. With the last of his seed spent, he looked upon his motionless leader and then to the cot. He pulled the blanket back, exposing the clay pots, while Shinta sobbed in the corner of the hut.

  ***

  Sianta ran. The fires of the funeral pyres and burning huts faded as she went deeper into the forest. Spiny tree limbs reached for her soul, and the creatures of the forest twittered and disappeared, trying to escape Sianta’s predicament. Her entire life her mother told her not to enter the forest at night, and now her mother had forced her to do so. She decided to hide under a boulder and rest for a moment. Images and thoughts raced through her mind.

  “I will not die here,” she said to herself.

  She felt the blood on the bottoms of her feet, where the underbrush of the forest had bitten through her skin. She took a deep breath, stood, and started running again. The first tentacles of the Sun God were creeping into the sky when Sianta heard it. The shouts of men and barking dogs pierced daybreak in the forest.

  “She cannot be far,” said the guard to a foot soldier. “Take five men and our hunting dogs and find her. If she escapes, Acatel will feast on your intestines.”

  The five soldiers obeyed the orders of their superior. Shaking off the effects of the flask, the men unleashed the dogs and followed the trail left by the young girl.

  Sianta knew she could not outrun her pursuers. She also knew she could not mask her scent from the dogs. Her knowledge of the area gave her hope. She climbed to the top of the hill where she spent many lazy days exploring trees and caves. The dogs would track her to a tree and the soldiers would wait her out. If she ran into a cave, there was no telling what else might be occupying it. Sianta made her decision and committed to it. She would sprint for the River of Rokin and hang her fate on its rapids.

  “This way,” said one soldier.

  The others redirected the dogs to follow her trail as the Sun God awoke, assisting them on the hunt. The dogs stopped by a huge boulder, sniffing it and continuing into the forest.

  “She may have stopped here, and she could be wounded. See the blood on that root?” a soldier asked, pointing to the ground.

  Sianta came down the other side of the hill and heard the violent crashing of the river’s rapids.

  “I would rather have my skull crushed by Rokin than by the beasts on my trail,” she said to herself.

  She climbed down a narrow embankment and avoided falling into the river a number of times. If she entered the rapids, Sianta wanted to make sure she did so in control. The rough waters had stolen the souls of villagers across many generations. She heard the barking dogs beating a trail to her location, and she looked into the angry rapids and back towards the top of the embankment. She shuffled her feet, moved towards the edge, and then scampered back. Sianta looked up towards the summit of the hill one last time and saw movement through the trees. An instant later, the barking of the hounds reverberated off the hills and competed with the gushing rapids.

  “There she is!” yelled the solider in the lead. They raced down the hill with abandon. “She must be kept alive. Stop her before she jumps in the water!”

  One soldier stopped on the summit and tied the hounds to the nearest tree. They had served their masters well on the mission. The soldiers struggled to remove their heavy armor and weapons, which would sink them in the moving water. They could see the girl’s movement as they neared the river’s edge.

  “Earth Goddess, be my guide and my protector,” Sianta said. She removed her cotton wrap and a torn ornamental bow from her hair, tying them around a piece of driftwood caught on the edge of the foaming river. With all her strength, she threw the disguised log into the boiling rapids and waited.

  ***

  The bleeding stopped, but the lumps on Acatel’s head grew. The incident left him with blurred vision and bruised flesh. He sat up and ignited an explosion of stars and lights in his head. He turned to his side and vomited. He heard muffled sobbing nearby but could not get his eyes to focus. The realization of the situation leaked into his reflections.

  “You bitch,” he said, not expecting an answer.

  He tried to stand and fell into the cot. Renewed pain revisited his head. He grabbed his belt and managed to fasten his cloak. The dagger looked at him from the ground. The Sun God taunted him as it penetrated the tears in the hut, burning holes in his eyes.

  Acatel’s stomach turned as his eyes focused on the surroundings. Bound and bloody, the bitch sat quivering in the corner. Her daughter was gone.

  “Commander!” he yelled.

  The sounds of the camp echoed like an implosion in his ears.

  ***

  “She jumped.”

  High above the river, the men watched the young girl floating down the rapids. The water frothed and threw her further downstream. She disappeared around a bend.

  “Should we jump in after her?” the lead soldier asked.

  “And swim beyond the Region of the Dead? I think not. She will meet her fate in those raging waters. We will report her death to Acatel.”

  The lead soldier shifted his eyes from man to man. “What if she survives? Do you know what Acatel would do to us if the girl escapes?” he asked.

  “We will be many leagues from here, wetting our swords with the blood of the People of the Sun. He will not spend another moment of energy on that piece of garbage. Even if she does manage to crawl out of the dark river, she will not survive on her own. We destroyed her life. Let the Book of Horoscopes claim her soul.”

  The men stood, but none moved. The lead solider grimaced before speaking.

  “So be it. We will report the girl’s drowning in the river. If any of you speak to the contrary, I will feed you your own tongues.”

  They climbed back up the hill on all fours. The exhausted dogs lay about the tree, sleeping in the shade. The group returned to the destroyed village in silence.

  ***

  Sianta thought the soldiers had baited her. She waited, expecting them to come crashing through the flotsam on the river’s edge and to pierce her heart with their swords. The Sun God smiled from above and the animals of the forest resumed their usual activity. Her muscles cramped from the position of her body at the river’s edge. Sianta squeezed herself between two leaning rocks, which kept her hidden from behind but allowed her quick escape to the river from the front. Her knees protested as she straightened her legs. The Sun God warmed the dried blood caked on the soles of her feet and shins. She did not know the fate of her mother, and she sat naked on the river’s edge, waiting for an ambush by her pursuers. She turned her face up to the Sun God and let his fiery rays warm her.

  She thanked the Earth Goddess for the protection and stood, crawling from under the rocks and peering towards the summit. She detected no m
otion. The Sun God descended opposite the top of the hill, illuminating its face. Sianta observed trees swaying in a sweet breeze. No figures or dogs leapt from the hillside. The adrenaline that had ensured her survival subsided. In its place rose the fears and doubts of the days to come.

  Chapter 19

  The council’s proclamation spread throughout the One World. Messengers carried the word on horseback to the villages of the People of the Sun. From there, traders and nomadic clans took the message to the subjugated tribes and peoples. Celebrations and jubilations faded into aggression. The conquered peoples anticipated the breakdown of the People of the Sun. The proclamation gave birth to retribution, the backlash of generations of tribute created an unintended consequence for the Empire.

  Tension and anxiety gripped the People of the Sun as ordinary villagers felt abandoned by the council. Many generations had enjoyed the fruits of domination, and now the Empire set those conquered tribes free. Although they stashed plentiful food supplies, concern grew surrounding this part of the proclamation. If the chief elder cut the food export, many thought it would not be long before farmers would ration their harvests. In addition, the People of the Sun called the standing military force back to the capital. Under the leadership of Machek, Lord Major of the Jaguar Knights, a mandatory recruitment system began. All young males who had reached the Ceremony of the Sixteenth joined his force.

  Bands of villagers took to the plaza. They protested the actions of the council and the recruitment of the young into service. Superstitious folks cried and lamented the final omen. The prophet of the Second Sun foretold the coming of creatures with two heads that would vanish when one gazed upon their faces. The exaggerated description of Machek’s encounter and the retelling of the meeting grew in intensity.

  “Machek, please come in,” said the chief elder. He sat by the ceremonial fire in his hut, alone.