The Emblem Throne (The Runes of Issalia Book 2)

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The Emblem Throne (The Runes of Issalia Book 2) Page 22

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek


  The banshee stepped toward Cam, who ran in to meet it. A whirling sound sang out as Cam’s silver longsword flashed toward the beast. Brock’s head cleared, the fear subsiding even before Cam’s blade sliced across the midsection of the tall monster. The banshee looked down in shock as Cam jumped backward. A thump sounded as the monster fell to its knees, attempting to pull its spilling intestines back inside.

  Everyone sprang to action simultaneously. Brock bent and lifted the big tree, readying himself. Tipper resumed working on the rune, which was now almost finished. Puri leapt past Cam with a wide slice, taking the head off the eviscerated banshee. As the huge head bounced away and its body tumbled to the side, others began to emerge from the dark smoke within the cave.

  Brock yelled. “Step aside!”

  Lars jumped back to one side, Puri and Cam to the other, and the path opened wide before Brock as four more banshees emerged from the black smoke. Brock heaved the tree and it flew toward the cave to smash into the chests of three of the monsters, knocking them back into the fire. The dead tree ignited, the fire latching onto the dead dry bark.

  Impossibly, the wails from the cave became even more horrible. As before, Brock’s brain felt addled as fear gripped him tight. The sound of Cam’s blade whistling through the air sang in Brock’s ears and fear’s grip slid away. Cam’s longsword lopped the hand off the fourth banshee as it took a swipe at Puri. She then lunged and jammed her sword upward into the crotch of the beast, burying it to the hilt. She tried to pull the blade free, but her gripped slipped and she stumbled backwards. The banshee howled and lifted its good arm for another strike. Before the arm could descend, Cam cut through its thick leg just below the knee and the beast fell backward with a howl of pain.

  Brock turned toward Libby. “The staff!” he shouted.

  Libby ran closer, tossing it before running back toward Ashland. Brock snatched the staff with one hand and spun toward the cave as two of the banshees freed themselves from the tree. One broke into a run, its hair on fire as it charged toward Lars. Jumping aside, Lars spun about to slam his huge great sword into the banshee’s lower back as it ran past. The monster stumbled and fell facedown. Lars climbed onto the beast and plunged his sword into its ribcage.

  The other banshee burst from the cave and ran toward Brock. Not waiting for it to reach him, Brock leapt toward it. He flew thirty feet up into the air before descending. As he dropped toward the banshee, he swung the metal-plated staff in an underhand arc. The Chaos-charged strike smashed into the side of the brute’s head. Brock twisted with the recoil, careful to bend his knees and absorb the impact as his feet contacted the ground. When he turned back toward the banshee, it smashed onto the ground with its brains oozing from the gaping hole in its head.

  Turning to check on Tipper’s progress, Brock found that his friend had his eyes closed, and was standing before the completed the rune. Brock sprinted toward Tipper as the rune began to glow bright red. Slowing when he reached the cliff wall, he turned and shouted to the others.

  “Run! Everyone get clear of the cave!”

  He turned to find Tipper now staring at the red glow of the charged rune.

  Brock shouted, “You did it, Tip. Now run!”

  With wide eyes, Tipper turned and bolted. Dozens of angry wails began to blast from the cave, the ear-piercing screams building to a nightmarish crescendo. Terror gripped Brock as he stood beside the cave entrance. The fog of fear clouded his mind, locking him into an internal struggle. He was having a hard time thinking, let alone moving. Fighting through it, Brock tried to focus. Blinking, he found huge humanoid shapes emerging from the dark wall of smoke surrounding the burning tree. Gritting his teeth, he brought his staff back and thrust it out, driving the metal-capped butt of the staff into the rune drawn upon the rock. As soon as it hit, he spun and launched himself from the cave. Landing in a full run, fifty feet away, he distanced himself from the cliff as quickly as possible. A deafening rumble roared toward him, as if he had made the whole mountain angry. He felt the force of it in his chest, drawing closer even though he ran faster than humanly possible. As he passed Tipper, he reached out and scooped him into one arm without slowing. Bits of rock pelted Brock’s legs as he sped away.

  In mere seconds, he closed the five-hundred-foot gap to where the others stood watching the scene unfold. Slowing to a stop, he set Tipper down and turned to see the results of their gambit.

  The cave was gone, buried beneath thousands of tons of tumbling rock and dirt, which was sending a dust cloud high into the air. A good portion of the cliff had fallen, affected by the Brittle rune that Tipper had drawn. Brock didn’t know how many banshees were in the cave, but they were no longer a problem.

  He glanced to the side, seeing Ashland still sitting in meditation near the shimmering doorway. The pile of debris from the landslide ended just two strides from where she sat. Brock closed his eyes and thanked Issal that the landslide hadn’t buried her as well.

  He faced his companions with a nod. “Okay. The hard part is over.” He pointed toward the portal. “Now we have to protect Ashland until the doorway’s closed.”

  CHAPTER 44

  The mood of the group matched the bright sun high above. With every trace of the banshees now buried beneath the landslide, they just needed to wait for Ashland to get the portal fully closed. Examining it as he drew close, Brock found that the opening had shrunk significantly and was now half its original size. He and his companions slowed to a stop before the portal.

  “When the first banshee came out, I couldn’t even move because I was so scared,” Lars said to Cam. “But when you attacked it, everything suddenly got better.”

  Brock’s brow furrowed. “I felt the same thing. Until Cam began swinging that singing sword, I was frozen by fear.”

  Cam shrugged. “It never bothered me. Those banshees are big all right, but they’re also slow. As long as you face one at a time, they’re not that bad.”

  “Well, it didn’t bother me much after that.” Lars said with a smile. “I even got one. Did you see it?”

  “You sure did, Lars.” Benny clapped him on the shoulder. “You got him good.”

  Brock stepped closer to Cam. “Cam, let me look at your sword.”

  Cam handed him the longsword, still smeared with banshee blood. Brock noticed a rune engraved in the fluted blade, near the hilt. He held it closer to examine the rune. Though it wasn’t familiar, he would bet that it meant something.

  He handed the sword back to Cam. “There’s something about this sword and the rune engraved on it.”

  Taking it, Cam looked at the blade. “Well, the blade is named Silencer. Maybe the name is tied to the rune?”

  Benny stepped closer to examine the sword. “You might be right, Cam.”

  A buzzing noise sounded and static electricity sizzled in the air, causing Brock’s hair to stand on end. A large curved blade flashed past him, taking Perry’s head off before slicing right through Lars’ chest. Horror gripped Brock as the upper half of Lars’ body fell away and the lower half collapsed to the ground. He would never forget the surprised look on his big friend’s face as Brock watched the moment unfold. Everyone stood motionless, locked in a state of shock as blood spurted from the severed remains of their comrades.

  “Lars!” Benny screamed in horror.

  The buzz sounded again as another curved blade flew out of the portal, the flash of rotating metal tearing through Niles and Bart, sending body parts and blood spraying about.

  Screams and shouts sounded as people began to scurry from the scene.

  “Everyone behind the doorway! Now!” Brock shouted as he ran to the side, stopping beside Ashland. The others scrambled from the area, around the edges of the doorway. Brock turned toward Libby.

  “Draw the rune, right here.” He pointed at the ground before him. “Be sure to point it toward the clearing before the doorway and be ready.”

  The girl nodded, her large brown eyes appearing even wider than norm
al.

  Brock turned toward Cam. “I’m going to help Ashland. You’ve got to protect us.”

  Cam glanced at Puri, both of them nodding.

  Brock sat beside Ashland and closed his eyes. Taking a calming breath, he began seeking his center. He struggled to locate the cool peacefulness of Order through the raging noise of Chaos hovering nearby. Once he was able to tap into his source of Order, he reached toward the wound and found a massive storm of red symbols tearing about. He could also sense Ashland trying to calm the storm, surrounding it with the harmony of Order. Pushing with his will, he joined her. Even strengthened by the Power rune, the pressure of resistance was tremendous, a thousand times worse than any wound he had healed.

  He heard wailing and shouts but remained focused as he and Ashland pulled at the force of Order all about them to close the portal. The symbols began to unravel faster and faster, accelerating behind the momentum of the healing. The pressure dropped away and a loud pop sounded, startling Brock and Ashland to open their eyes.

  On the ground before them was the twitching upper half of a banshee, sliced at an angle from the middle of its back to its waist when the doorway slammed shut. The other half was somewhere else, wherever the beasts came from.

  Loud wails sent waves of sheer terror through Brock. A small group of banshees blocking their eyes from the sun, stood just twenty feet away. Two dead banshees littered the ground nearby. Cam took a wide swing with his sword to keep the banshees at bay. The whistle of the sword cut through the terror, freeing Brock’s mind. He grabbed Ashland’s hand and scrambled to his feet.

  “Everyone get back, behind the rune,” Brock yelled before turning to Libby. “Now, Libby! Use your fear!”

  Cam and Puri backed away from the four remaining banshees. As they parted around Libby, the rune she had sketched in the dirt began to glow red. It pulsed once and the ground before the rune burst, rippling forward in a tidal wave of earth. The wave smashed through the banshees and swept their legs out as it passed beneath them. They tumbled to the ground awkwardly. Two of the banshees rolled about as the other two climbed back to their feet. Another wave blasted from the rune, pummeling the banshees with torn earth as it tossed them backward and covered them with debris.

  Everyone backed away as the shockwaves continued to pound forth, again and again, tearing through the clearing. In less than two minutes, the banshees were beyond the rubble of the landslide, buried beneath the layers of earth. Though Libby had proven to be weak in her ability to channel Chaos, far weaker than Brock, the Shockwave rune proved to be devastating.

  Closing his eyes, Brock said a prayer for Lars, Niles, and the sailors, their corpses now buried beneath the blasted earth. He opened them to witness a shockwave blast across the clearing for a couple hundred feet.

  Turning to the others, Brock found looks ranging from shock to sadness. Benny wiped tears from his eyes. Tipper did the same as Libby buried her head in Tipper’s chest to cry. Parker shouldered his bow and stared down at the ground, as if trying to avoid looking at the field where Lars and Niles had died. Tenzi glanced up at him with a look of concern in her eyes. Sinclair took his hat off and held it over his heart as he closed his eyes in prayer. Puri sheathed her sword, looking grim. Cam did the same and appeared to be doing all he could to not cry. Brock understood, of any of them, Cam had been closest to Lars.

  Gathering himself, Brock spoke in a solemn tone. “It appears that our friends have gotten a burial. It’s not a proper funeral pyre, but at least they’ll be left in peace. May Issal watch over them.” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to think on what they needed to do next. “I don’t know how long this will last,” he pointed back at the shockwaves, repeatedly obliterating everything in their path, “but we’re done here. Let’s go back to camp and rest for a bit.”

  Saddened by the loss of their companions, he led the silent group back into the woods. Though they had accomplished the impossible, he didn’t feel victorious. An overwhelming sense of dread began to seep inside of him, dread from the realization that he would likely lose other friends in the days to come.

  CHAPTER 45

  Brock blamed himself. He had assumed the role of leader and his companions had relied on him, looking to him for guidance and protection. After the fierce and frantic attack on the banshee hideout, he had allowed himself to relax. The success of their plan had left him feeling confident. That confidence resulted in the death of those he led. The image of the huge blade slicing through Lars haunted him, etched firmly and sure to cause future nightmares.

  He glanced toward the ground and noticed the attack plan he had sketched in the dirt during the early morning hours. In frustration, he jumped up and began kicking the dirt, creating a cloud of dust as he destroyed the diagram. The result was not exceptional, merely what one would normally expect. Apparently, the effect of the Power rune had fully dissipated.

  With the burst of frustration expended, he stopped to stare down the hill into the narrow wooded ravine. Feeling empty and too tired to cry, his eyes lost focus and he stared numbly into space. A pair of arms appeared from behind, wrapping about his waist. He felt Ashland’s body against his back as she hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. Even before he heard it, he knew she was about to speak in his head.

  I’m sad and I miss Lars too, but you need to stop blaming yourself. Lars knew it was risky. We all did. The fact that any of us still live is because of your actions and leadership. Focus on what we have, not on what we’ve lost.

  When he didn’t respond, her tone turned to scolding. Don’t let the rest of us die because you feel guilty. We don’t have time for self-pity.

  Brock winced at the harsh words. She was right, though. Four of members of the group might be dead, but the nine surviving members still needed him. Ashland needed him.

  He nodded, hugging her arms to himself. What would I do without you?

  I expect that you’d get yourself killed. She replied, him feeling her smile through their connection.

  She released him and Brock turned to face his companions, who had finished consuming the last meager scraps of food that remained. He realized that not a word had been spoken since returning to camp, over an hour earlier. It was likely because they were all mourning those who died, as Brock was. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the luxury to mourn as they should or more deaths would follow.

  Brock cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Unless anyone objects, we should pack up and move on. We’re out of food and our water supply won’t last more than another day.”

  The others stood and began gathering their things. Brock walked over to the trail they had blazed earlier and waited for the others. When everyone appeared ready, he headed down toward the ravine.

  Tenzi quickened her pace so she could walk beside Brock.

  “Brock, I’ve got a few questions,” she began.

  Brock nodded, trying to maintain composure. “Go on.”

  “What happened back there?” she asked. “The things I saw you do…I don’t understand how it’s possible. Was it some sort of magic or something?’

  He sighed. Explaining Chaos was a challenge.

  “I guess it is a kind of magic.” He shrugged. “We were using a force called Chaos. It’s something we discovered about a year back. Thank Issal for that.”

  After a moment, Tenzi spoke again. “I saw you become super strong, tossing that huge tree like it was nothing. Then you began leaping around like some kind of human grasshopper. You made a whole cliff crumble into a landslide, and Libby did something to cause waves of dirt to blast across the field.” She paused, shaking her head in disbelief. “What else can you do with it?”

  Brock ducked under a branch and turned toward her. “Honestly, I have no idea. We know of a few other things, but I get the feeling that there’s far more we don’t know.”

  She walked in quiet for a few strides before speaking. “Well, I’m scared to think of how things would have gone without you guys. Those
…monsters are the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. If there’s an army of them, I can’t imagine what we could do to stop them.”

  Brock thought about what she said. Thousands of banshees would be unstoppable, even with the help of their small group of Chaos users. How could mankind survive? He hoped that the answers were somewhere down the road ahead.

  . . .

  They walked in silence without complaints of hunger. With nothing to do about it, there was no sense in complaining. Brock’s body shook and quivered as he walked, starved of nourishment.

  He looked up at the sun, hiding behind a puffy cloud. It was at about the same angle as when they left their camp near the banshee cave the day prior. In that time, he had eaten nothing but a few berries they gathered along the way. It had been almost two days since they had consumed a decent meal. To make matters worse, their water supply was now exhausted. He thought of how ironic it would be to survive the skirmish with the banshees only to die of malnourishment.

  Lifting a heavy leg, Brock climbed onto a small boulder resting atop the ridge they were cresting. He looked toward the eastern horizon, finding the ocean looming beyond another line of hills. His eyes drifted to the valley below, thickly populated with leaf trees. He noticed a long gap in the trees along the valley floor, cutting from the south to the northeast. Squinting, he could make out the brown of a roadway, intermittently appearing between gaps in the trees. His eyes followed it and he paused when he noticed something.

  A wagon appeared to have run into a tree, three bodies scattered upon the road near it. He stared hard at them, watching for any sign of movement. Seeing no activity, he turned to face the others as they gathered on the trail behind him.

 

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