Runic Vengeance (The Runic Series Book 3)

by Clayton Wood

  The other members of the Council nodded at this, and even Goran had to agree. Erasmus, of course, was still itching for a fight, but wisely held his tongue...for once.

  “But we must also remember that Ampir didn’t help destroy the Void Behemoth, or the army that attacked us,” Kalibar continued. “I submit that we concentrate on what we can do to defend ourselves against Xanos,” he added. “And assume that Ampir will not help us again.”

  “But if we could just meet with him,” Councilman Hewes protested.

  “You're welcome to try to contact him,” Kalibar interjected. “In the meantime, I believe our best chance for survival lies in the K-Array.”

  “Agreed,” Goran stated. He turned to Erasmus then. “Care to debrief us?”

  “We've discovered six new patterns,” Erasmus declared, leaning forward eagerly. “The most promising are the killerpillar ray and the invisibility pattern.”

  “The invisibility pattern?”

  “We found it yesterday afternoon,” Erasmus clarified. “Derived from an Ardus,” he added. “It's a small, furry animal with hooves,” he clarified when met with Goran's blank stare. “It vanishes whenever it's threatened.”

  “Fascinating,” Councilman Hewes murmured. “Think of the applications!”

  “Oh I have,” Erasmus said with a grin. “My Runics are already developing Battle-Weaver armor with cloaking technology.”

  “While that is extraordinary,” Goran admitted, “...none of these patterns will be useful if we have more Chosen hidden in our midst.” He was of course referring to Ibicus, whose mind had been taken over by one of Xanos's shards. No one had realized that they'd had a traitor among them...and no one could be sure of when Ibicus had been turned. It could have been days ago...or even years.

  “Agreed,” Kalibar replied. “Which is why these patterns are known to a select few people,” he added. “Myself, Erasmus, a few Runics, and two of our elite guards.”

  “That's hardly reassuring,” Goran muttered.

  “It will have to do for now,” Kalibar replied coolly. “Until we have a way to screen for these living Chosen.”

  The room became silent at that, each Councilman no doubt considering the implications of another Chosen secretly among them. Jax had been murdered in his sleep, and Kalibar had nearly met the same fate. What was to stop them all from succumbing to another traitor?

  “We must continue to develop new technology,” Kalibar stated at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “The K-Array remains our best chance of defending the Empire from Xanos.” He glanced at Kyle then. “We cannot win this war with sheer power,” he added grimly. “If we win, we will owe it to our ideas, and our ability to apply these to the defense of our great Empire.”

  Kyle felt the eyes of ever last person in the War room turn to him, and he lowered his gaze to the tabletop. He knew that they all expected him to come up with some other amazing idea...and he doubted that he would. The K-Array had been a fluke, a lucky guess.

  But, to his dismay, there was not a single Councilman in that room who would deny that Kalibar was right.

  Chapter 7

  Sabin ignored the pain coursing through his body, a constant reminder of the strange illness that had nearly killed him long ago, when he'd been mortal. He focused on his avatar standing at the bottom of the huge Void chamber, controlling it with a fraction of his consciousness. The avatar stood holding a green shard to its forehead, inscribing countless microscopic runes into the shard.

  It had taken a great deal of time for Sabin to master the skill necessary to control one body while dividing his concentration amongst his vast army of Chosen, but he'd had millennia to practice the art. He did not control every Chosen at the same time; this had proven, even for his augmented brain, impossible. Rather, he rapidly darted from Chosen to Chosen, accessing their senses and memories, and sending his commands to their brains. If he chose to, he could take over any Chosen's body completely, as he had done with Rivin's corpse over a month ago.

  But his avatar, that ancient body tottering down the metallic platform, had no real mind of its own. With Sabin's body trapped in its eternal resting place, that body was his alone.

  It hadn't always been this way, of course. He'd been mortal once.

  Sabin withdrew his mind from Xanos suddenly, feeling the agony of his own body return with a vengeance. He endured the pain, focusing inward, into his own mind.

  His memories of his mortal life were elusive, blurred by the passage of time and the limits of his finite brain. Certainly he would have recognized Darius as Ampir immediately if his memories of his early life had been better preserved. But he had learned how to store his own memories in the minds of his Chosen too late, and his recollection of that part of his past had been permanently damaged.

  But he remembered some parts of his past...his mortal life. He'd long-ago learned how to store those memories in his Chosen, and often found himself sending a portion of his consciousness out to retrieve those memories, to relive each moment as if he were experiencing them for the first time.

  What better time than now to do so, to reminisce?

  He paused, then reached out to one of his oldest Chosen, one that had been locked in a Void crystal for nearly as long as he had. Sabin willed the primitive, long untouched memories from its mind, allowing a fraction of his enormous consciousness to experience them.

  * * *

  The courtyard is filled with the clamor of hundreds of Runic students rushing out from their lecture halls, enthusiastically making their way to one of the three restaurants serving lunch in the dorm complex nearby. A warm breeze carries the delicious smell of freshly cooked meats, rustling the leaves of the ornamental trees that decorate the large courtyard.

  Sabin closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in through his nostrils, then lets it out. He looks down at the half-eaten meal before him, stabbing a piece of meat with his fork and putting it in his mouth. He'd finished giving his latest lecture only twenty minutes ago, coming to his favorite restaurant before the inevitable lunch-time rush.

  He sips his glass of water, watching the young Runic students as they walk by, fresh-faced and energetic, and feels a pang of nostalgia for the old days. Twenty years ago, he’d been one of them, his life full of promise and possibility. Now he is in his mid-forties, locked into his career, his possibilities limited. The only promise he has left lies in his research and teaching. And, of course, his inventions.

  He finds himself staring idly at the ring on his right middle finger, a black onyx band with a single diamond-shaped emerald in the center. A gift from the former Grand Runic, ten years ago, in recognition for Sabin's greatest invention: an earring that allowed anyone to understand, and be understood by, a person speaking a foreign language. It had been the natural product of his research into thought-activated runic technology...and selling the patent for it had made him a very wealthy man.

  Sabin sighs, his eyes idly following a group of young women as they pass by the table he is sitting at. A few are quite pretty, and he has to be careful not to stare for too long. He is, after all, a distinguished professor of Runic Arts and an accomplished researcher, the preeminent expert not only on thought-activated runics, but also on his most recent focus: magic vacuity. He can't afford tarnishing that reputation by seeming like a lecherous old man.

  It is a constant temptation, though.

  He'd never taken a wife. Never had time for it, really...his work had seen to that. It is his one great regret, that he has only himself to come home to. A lonely existence.

  He sighs again, tearing his eyes away from the group of women. He lowers his gaze to the food on his plate, feeling a strange tingling sensation shoot down his spine as he does so.

  “Professor?”

  Sabin jerks his head up from his plate, finding a young woman standing opposite him. She wears the black uniform of a Weaver student, and has long, wavy auburn hair that reaches all the way down to her lower back. Her features are striki
ngly...no, painfully beautiful, her skin pale and her gray eyes bright and expressive. He finds himself staring, his mouth half-open, and snaps it shut.

  “Yes?” he asks, trying his best to sound casual. The young woman smiles apologetically, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him.

  “May I sit?”

  “Of course,” he replies, gesturing to the chair. She obliges, flashing him another smile.

  “I'm Vera,” she greets, extending a hand across the table. Sabin reaches over and shakes it. “I really enjoyed your lecture,” she adds. Sabin raises an eyebrow.

  “I didn't realize I had an impostor in my class,” he says with an easy grin. “What's a Weaver doing in an advanced Runic theory class?”

  “I'm not actually enrolled in the class,” Vera admits. “I wanted to see if the rumors were true,” she adds with a mysterious smile. Sabin purses his lips.

  “Rumors?” he inquires. “Hopefully nothing too scandalous.”

  “Not yet,” she counters coyly, leaning forward. A lock of her thick auburn hair falls in front of her eyes, and she brushes it aside absently. For some reason Sabin finds this extraordinarily fetching. “I heard you were the best teacher in the Secula Magna,” she explains. “And the world expert in magic vacuity.”

  “Well, you've been to my lecture,” Sabin replies, leaning back in his chair. “Are the rumors true?”

  “Mmm,” she replies, cocking her head to the side slightly and eyeing him silently for a moment. “Perhaps.”

  “What else do you need to know to make your decision?” Sabin presses, his tone breezy. That earned him another mysterious smile.

  “How about lunch?” she asks. Sabin gives her an apologetic smile.

  “Ah, how rude of me,” he states, flagging down a waiter. “What can I order for you?”

  “Oh, you don't have to...” she begins, but Sabin cuts her off with one hand.

  “I insist,” he interjects. “We have rumors to feed.” She cocks an eyebrow at this.

  “What sorts of rumors?” she asks coyly. He feels a rush of adrenaline course through him, his heart pounding in his chest. He wills himself to remain calm, wondering how this girl – no doubt twenty years his junior – could have such an effect on him. He has a sudden mad desire to feed into this remarkable creature's flirty suggestions, to throw caution to the wind and see what wonderful things might happen.

  “The kind with appetites,” he replies smoothly. Vera grins.

  “Well I've certainly got appetites.”

  “And I insist on feeding them,” Sabin states. He catches the eye of a passing waiter, and Vera orders lunch. After the waiter leaves, Vera twirls a lock of her hair with one finger, staring at him silently. He finds himself profoundly uncomfortable under that gaze...and glad of it.

  “Do you have appetites, professor?” Vera inquires at last, continuing to stare at him with those gray eyes. Sabin pauses, unsure of how to answer without getting himself into trouble.

  “Doesn't everyone?” he counters at last.

  “Mmm,” Vera murmurs. The waiter returns with a plate full of food, and Vera grabs a piece of fruit, taking a bite out of it.

  “So why magic vacuity?” Sabin presses, switching back to a safer subject. “Most students only care about thought-activated runics.” Vera was certainly correct in her estimation of him; he was the world's expert on magic vacuity. He'd spent the last eight years of his life feeding that obsession, while continuing his research into thought-activated runics. With over a hundred patents to his name, including the one for the universal translator, he hardly needs the paltry salary of a professor. But he truly loves to teach, and he had maintained his ties to academia, hoping to inspire others to contribute to the magical sciences.

  “I'm exploring the application of magic vacuity to Battle-Weaving,” Vera answers. Sabin's eyebrows rise in surprise.

  “You're a Battle-Weaver student?” he asks incredulously. Vera laughs, shaking her head.

  “God no,” she replies. “I'm not cut out for that,” she adds without a hint of regret.

  “What then?” he presses. “What do you want from life?”

  “To get a job in academia,” she answers without hesitation. “I want to do research, and I think magic vacuity has many applications to Battle-Weaving.”

  “Well you're right about that,” Sabin agrees. “Magic vacuity is key in any magical endeavor.” He smiles then. “So you're an academic at heart,” he observes.

  “Like you,” Vera agrees, eating another piece of fruit. He watches her, then feels his heart start to race, a sudden kind of madness coming over him.

  “It seems we have similar appetites,” he murmurs. Immediately he regrets the bold implications of the statement, feeling a pang of fear come over him. But she only smiles at him with that mysterious way she has.

  “Indeed,” she replies.

  Suddenly a young woman in a Weaver student uniform walks up to Vera, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  “Come on, Vera,” the woman urges. “We're going to be late for class.”

  Vera nods, standing up from the table and pushing her chair in. Sabin waves to her, and she waves back.

  “See you around, professor,” she promises.

  And then she walks away.

  Sabin follows her retreating form, his eyes drawn to her long legs and intriguing curves. He tears his gaze away, glancing about to see if anyone caught him staring, but no one seems to have. He stares down at his plate, feeling more than a little confused...yet somehow more alive than he's felt for years.

  Maybe, just maybe, his life has some promise and possibility left after all.

  * * *

  Master Lee glared at Kyle from across the wooden table they always sat at in the Runic Archives, the scowl on her face making her appear even more ancient than she was. After the Council meeting, Kyle had returned to the Archives to finish the day's lessons with Lee. He'd inscribed so many runes that he'd long since lost count of how many. Lee had proven to be a brutal taskmaster, more similar to the Dead Man in her methods than she was to the late Master Banar. Minus the systematic psychological torture, of course.

  “You're distracted,” she observed testily. “What's wrong?”

  “I'm just tired,” Kyle mumbled. In truth, he was worried sick about Darius, and what might happen if...

  “Bull,” Lee retorted. “Don't lie to me again.”

  “I'll be fine,” he muttered. Lee stared at him for a long moment, then sighed.

  “Well if you won't open up to me,” she growled, “...I expect you to perform as if nothing's wrong.” Kyle blanched, then nodded silently.

  “Now,” Lee stated. “...what is the most important development in runic technology?”

  “Runic logic,” Kyle answered, verbatim from her previous lecture. Lee nodded.

  “What does that mean?” she pressed. Kyle paused, wracking his brain, but came up with nothing. “It means the ability of runic items to make decisions,” she concluded. She tapped on the cube in front of Kyle. “This is a fresh gem,” she explained. “That's what we call crystals without any runes inscribed in them. I want you to demonstrate your understanding of Runic logic with it.”

  Kyle nodded silently.

  “If this, then do this,” Lee stated. “That is the simplest form of Runic logic.” She sat back in her chair then. “For example: if the fire pattern is sensed nearby, then make a gravity shield to protect yourself.”

  “Got it,” Kyle replied. Simple enough.

  “You don't 'have it' until you've done it,” Lee retorted. “Theory is useless without application. She pushed the cube toward Kyle. “Inscribe runes and link them to perform that logic.”

  Kyle stared at the cube in front of him, blanking on what he was supposed to do. After a long moment, he glanced up at Lee, who was staring silently at him. She leaned forward, propping her bony elbows on the table.

  “Tell me what's wrong,” she stated coldly, “...or I'll consider dropping you a
s my student.”

  Kyle paled.

  “I'm worried what'll happen if Xanos attacks again,” he admitted. It was true enough; he didn't need to mention that such a thing would only happen if Darius failed.

  “He will,” Lee replied bluntly.

  “Gee, thanks,” Kyle muttered. Lee snorted.

  “Don't expect me to sugar-coat it, honey,” she grumbled. “But it's not worth getting yourself worried sick over,” she added. “There are an infinite number of possible futures to worry about, and only one of them will come true. Deal with the one. Trust me, life's better that way.”

  “I'm not worried about me,” he clarified. “I'm worried about my friends.”

  “You think I don't worry?” Lee countered. “I don't give a damn about me,” she added with a smirk. “I'm practically dead anyway. But I worry about my son.”

  “I'm really sorry,” Kyle mumbled. “I can't concentrate today.”

  “Concentrate on now,” Lee advised. “Take it from me, now is all you have. Now is all you'll ever have, a long stream of nows. And one day, poof...no more nows.” She leaned back again. “Live while you're still alive, honey.”

  “I’ll try,” Kyle replied.

  “Well lying in bed moping won't make you feel better,” Lee retorted. “Idle minds invite madness. I'm going to give yours something to do.” She pointed to the cube then. “If fire then make a shield. Go.”

  “I don't know how,” Kyle protested.

  “Figure it out,” Lee retorted.

  Kyle sighed, staring down at the cube. There was only one condition to meet – the presence of a fire – and the only way to sense magic was with a sensory rune. So he had to inscribe the fire pattern into the cube. But he couldn't use the pattern he'd used to inscribe the effector runes he'd practiced before. Like Kalibar and the late Master Banar had said, inscribing sensory runes required a special pattern – one that Kyle didn't know yet.

  “I can't do it,” Kyle stated. “I don't know how to make sensory runes.” Master Lee smirked.