An Empire in Runes (The Runes of Issalia Book 3) Page 7

  “Exactly.” Brock nodded. “However, when wearing the Courage amulet I made, she walked up to Wraith and wrapped her arms around the dog without hesitation.”

  Parker thought about this revelation, considering the debilitating fear that had gripped him when in range of the banshee wails. Being able to resist fear would be invaluable when fighting an army of banshees.

  “So, you’re going to cast hundreds of these amulets and then infuse them with Chaos?” Parker asked.

  Brock nodded. “Yes, but not just me. When I discovered that the other former Academy students could heal using Order, I began teaching them how to infuse Chaos. Salina, Jerome, Stein, and Luke are proficient with Chaos now, but Deidre and Rupert are still a bit raw. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to wait.”

  Using a pair of tweezers, Felix popped the first amulet that he had poured from its casting. He held it up, the gold reflecting the afternoon sun. The shape of a rune shined within the small disk.

  Brock pointed at the amulet as he spoke. “Each piece takes about an hour to infuse and then you need a break to recover before you can do another. I am asking each of them to crank out ten a day, so it will be exhausting. I’d like to have three or four hundred of these amulets ready by the time we march north.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Puri waved her escort away, annoyed by the constant shadow. Her time with the Outlanders had given her a new perspective and she relished her independence. Thinking of the Outlanders caused thoughts of Cameron to surface. It was a frequent occurrence. Despite the irritation she felt when thinking of her heart being tied to another, she couldn’t deny that there was something there. Was it love? She had her share of trysts, but they were purely for pleasure. This was something different. Something more.

  Stepping through the opening to the head clansman’s terrace, she gave the guards on duty a brief nod. Their response was a deeper bow, as was proper. Turan stood near the terrace wall, speaking with Yuranni. To be more accurate, Yuranni was speaking to Turan, who listened intently. Tantarri respect ran deep for the Elder, as it had for centuries. One listened well when the Elder spoke. Without such guidance, one was nothing but a leaf, blown about by the winds of fate with no hope to choose your path.

  After a few minutes, Yuranni bowed to Turan, who returned a bow just a bit deeper. Yuranni turned about and used his staff to support him as he climbed the terrace toward his small cavern above. Spotting Puri waiting, Yuranni gave her a nod, which she returned with a deep bow.

  With the old man gone, she approached her father. Turan stood with his back to her, his hands resting on the small wall surrounding the terrace that overlooked Mondomi. Sidling up beside him, she put her hands on the wall and mirrored his stance.

  Morning sunlight illuminated the city of stone, which was teeming with activity. One of the two main plazas had been converted into a weapon’s shop. Puri spotted a group of fletchers busily turning spindles, feathers, and pointed tips into arrows. In another area, carpenters were carving long branches into poles that would become spears. Beyond those workers, two smiths pounded orange iron, shaping the raw metal into something of deadly beauty. The clang of their hammers sounded in perfect counter to one another, one rising as the other fell.

  Turning toward the other plaza, a smile crept across Puri’s face. Filled with children laughing and playing despite the serious mood around them, the imagery was the perfect motivation to fight against the specter of a dark future. Seeing the children made it clear why they dare not lose.

  “The time is coming soon, Puri.” Turan said, not taking his eyes from the city below. “We are mere days from riding out to face our ancient enemy.”

  “Yes, father. The Tantarri will be ready. We are brave and we will fight hard,” she replied.

  Turan turned toward her. “Yes, but we are few. From what you have told us, this enemy outnumbers us, and each of them is the size of a giant.”

  “True and true.” Puri nodded. “However, they are not smart nor are they quick. We must use our brains and our speed.” She paused in thought. “In addition, we will not be in this fight alone.”

  “The Outlanders.” Turan replied. Puri nodded in response. Turan turned toward the city again. “How many can we expect, though? You said that they planned to gather an army, but what if their Holy Army does not join us? What will we have then? Some raw recruits from the Academy and a bunch of people who you hope can wield the lost magic.”

  Puri thought about the Outlanders. Those she had traveled with had become her friends, showing honor and bravery that would inspire the most hardened Tantarri. They had proven themselves as good people and appeared to be leaders. She believed in them.

  “I believe that the Outlanders will surprise you,” Puri responded. “Elder Yuranni put his faith in them, and I saw that faith rewarded three times over. I have hope that they will find a way, despite the odds. We just need to do our part.”

  Turan turned toward Puri, his gaze locking with hers. After a long moment, he nodded. “Very well. Regardless, we have no options. The Tantarri will prepare and put our faith in the Outlanders. Extinction is the alternative.”

  Puri felt the tug of smile pulling, but she somehow resisted.

  Turan put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve sent scouts out beyond the eastern edge of the plains. Upon the first sign of The Horde, they are to return with news. Once word arrives that The Horde is advancing on the plains, we will ride out.”

  Puri’s face clouded. “We, father?”

  Turan nodded. “Yes. I will fight with the others. Every spear, sword, and bow matters in this fight. We cannot take half-hearted measures.” He thumped his chest with a fist. “This body may be past its prime, but I am still among the best warriors we have. I will take the field and that is the end of it.”

  Though she didn’t like the thought of Turan risking his life, it was difficult for Puri to disagree with her father’s logic. Everything hung in the balance. The smallest weight in one direction or the other could cause a shift, resulting in a rise to victory or a plummet to disaster.

  Her thoughts returned to the Outlanders. She believed in those she could call friends, but what of the others? Would they be able to enlist assistance from the Academy? More importantly, would the Holy Army join the fight? Having those swords in the battle to come would be invaluable and might be enough to make the difference.

  CHAPTER 15

  With a snort, Harbinger shifted, appearing restless. Gavin believed that the horse could feel the tension hanging over them. He leaned forward and placed his palm on the side of Harbinger’s neck, petting the animal as he glanced about. Even in the gloom of dusk, it was easy to see the steamy breath coming from the horses and men surrounding him.

  He looked into the woods again, staring hard as he watched for any sign of movement. The bare leaf trees enabled him to see much further than in the summer months, his vision obscured only by the gray-brown trunks and the occasional pine tree. The white of the snow made it easier to see despite the failing daylight. Movement caught his eye, and his focus shifted slightly. His pulse began to quicken when he realized that one of the scouts was returning.

  The scout weaved through the trees, running in the knee-deep snow toward the road where Gavin and his army waited. Recognizing the build and the gait of the approaching Paladin, time seemed to slow as Gavin waited for her to reach him. When she emerged from the wood, she stopped beside his horse and placed her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

  “Pathfinder Rhime,” Gavin greeted her. “What news do you have for us? Have we finally caught up to them?”

  The woman nodded. “Yes, Captain.” She gasped for air, exhausted from running uphill and through the snow. “It appears that they camped in the woo
ds just over the rise and waited until sunset to make their move. They’re attacking the city right now.”

  Gavin thought about this news, working through the logic as he considered the situation.

  He had never visited Cinti Mor, nor any other city within Hurnsdom, prior to now. However, his Academy training had covered the design and topography of every major city. It was a port city, situated where the river met the Sol Mai Ocean. He glanced toward the rise of the road before him, expecting that it was all downhill from there to get to the city wall.

  Gavin pulled on the reins, causing Harbinger to turn. He looked upon his army, finding a sea of steady gazes looking back toward him. The already quiet group stilled to silence as they waited for their leader to speak.

  “It appears that we have found our quarry.” Gavin began, his gaze sweeping over the troops as he spoke. “They attack Cinti Mor, threatening the lives of those who are trapped within the city walls. I don’t need to remind you of the horrors we have seen or of the fate that awaits these innocent people.”

  He paused, allowing the thought to sink in. “When you took your oath to join the Holy Army, you made a promise to the Ministry, the Empire, and to Issal to protect the lives of Empire citizens. This is your moment.”

  Gavin paused again, hoping to build towers of courage from the bricks of pride and honor that made his warriors into Holy Army Paladins.

  “As the enemy focuses on besieging the city walls, we must surprise them from behind. If we are swift in our attack, we can do major damage and send The Horde into disarray.” He nodded toward Devlin. “Sergeant Riccio, you will take fifty infantry troops and break off from the main group when we are halfway to the city walls. You will go five hundred feet toward the ocean and wait for the signal.” He turned the other direction, facing Gayle. “Sergeant Tylgin, you will take a group of fifty to the inland side of the road, mirroring Sergeant Riccio’s position until the signal.”

  He faced his army again, feeling a spike of pride at their bravery and commitment to duty. “I will lead the remainder of the Holy Army down the main road leading into the city. We must advance quietly, for the element of surprise we hold over The Horde is our best advantage. When the signal appears, we attack.”

  * * *

  “Okay, Yannick.” Gavin commanded. “Fire the signal.”

  The young archer nodded and held the arrow to the woman standing beside him. She uncovered the torch and the flames grew from a dull flicker to something far larger. Wavering in the cold breeze, the flames licked the rag wrapped about the arrow tip, causing it to smolder and crinkle. When the rag caught fire, Yannick nocked it in his longbow and held it high. The arrow shot up into the sky, creating a trailing arc that reached two hundred feet before it began to plummet.

  “Charge!” Gavin Torreco shouted from atop his horse.

  A wave of Paladin infantry ran past him, and he kicked Harbinger into a gallop. The horse bolted down the road and charged toward the crowd of giant monsters clustered near the city gate. The horse darted through the gap of fighters running before him, passing the Paladins who were on foot.

  Nearing the first banshee, Torreco brought his sword back, stood high in the saddle, and sliced at the beast’s neck. The monster fell to its knees as its head dangled over its chest, teetering before falling face-first in the snow.

  Gavin heard a roar from the rushing warriors behind him, but he didn’t slow as he sliced into the back of the next beast he passed.

  When the banshee fell, his gaze shifted to the stone wall before him. The city defenders upon the wall began to cheer, pumping their fists into the air at the sight of the Holy Army.

  Slowing his horse, Gavin turned it to reverse direction and found a massive arm swiping toward him. In desperation, he brought his sword up to block the strike. The impact against his sword was immense, knocking him from this saddle despite cutting half way through the monster’s forearm.

  Gavin landed on his side, and the wind shot out from his lungs. His sword fell to the ground as Harbinger’s hooves danced dangerously close to his head. Gavin rolled toward the sword and got to his knees as he attempted to regain his breath. He glanced up to see the banshee swipe its good arm at Harbinger. The talons tore into the horse’s neck and the force of the strike caused the horse to stumble. Two Paladins charged in, standing over Gavin as they held the beast at bay.

  Gavin gasped as air returned to his lungs. He gripped his sword, stood, and lunged in one movement. Splitting the two Paladins protecting him, Gavin drove his sword through the abdomen of the banshee, burying it to the hilt. He pulled back, but the sword stuck and he fell backward between the two Paladins. The banshee stumbled to one knee with his hand on Gavin’s sword. The banshee blasted a wail of pain and Gavin froze.

  A wave of ice-cold fear gripped Gavin Torreco. Fear so deep and powerful that he could not think. A banshee lumbered forward and swiped at the man to Gavin’s right. Razor-sharp talons tore the man’s face half off as he smashed into the other Paladin, knocking them both to the ground. Without knowing what he was doing, Gavin took a step back. The banshee reached out and each hand gripped a Paladin’s helmeted head. The beast stood and lifted the two men off the ground, the man with the torn face dangly limply as the other screamed and kicked. The banshee smashed its hands together, crushing the two men’s heads in a single blow. It then spread its arms wide as the two dead Paladins dangled three feet above the snow-covered ground. In a detached moment of observation, Gavin noticed the blood that now darkened the white snow.

  The banshee dropped the two men and blasted a horrifying wail. An immense wave of fear shook Gavin, his tower of courage crumbling to dust as all other thoughts fled his mind.

  PART II:

  Machinations

  CHAPTER 16

  Pherran Nindlerod knew who he was and what he was about. He didn’t mind that others often thought him a doddering old fool. The years hadn’t worn away his faculties as much as he would have others assume. Instead, those years had honed his acting skills. He allowed and even encouraged others to believe that he was oblivious to their secrets and machinations. For all of their charades, nobody expected him to be partaking in one of his own. Without seeing him as an adversary, they often let their guard down and allowed him to see more than he was meant to see. The private gatherings, the furtive looks, the small slips, the hints of duplicity, and the subtle passing of secret missives were filed away in the vault of his mind. These tiny pieces revealed a larger puzzle, one that began to form a picture.

  However, this evening, Nindlerod focused on something more important, more urgent. He had waited his whole life for something momentous. For all of his inventions, victories, and achievements, he still hadn’t had the opportunity to make a difference. When young Hedgewick appeared and shared his news about the return of The Banished Horde, Nindlerod knew that his moment had come. Now nearly seven decades into this life, it was Pherran Nindlerod’s time to shine.

  As he approached the stall of the engineering outbuilding, he found the door open. Stepping into the dark stall, he found Benny kneeling beside the flying machine.

  “Good morning, Mister Hedgewick,” Nindlerod said. “I hope you’ve found the modifications I made last night to be satisfactory.”

  Benny looked up and grinned. “Master Nindlerod! Yes, it looks great. In fact, I think we’re ready for the other project I mentioned.”

  Nindlerod nodded. “I expected as much. I have put my mind to it and have come up with a plan. However, I doubt that you are going to like it much.”

  Benny stood, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  A cackle of laughter snuck out before Nindlerod could reign himself in. No need to carry on the charade with young
Hedgewick. They were in this together.

  “There is just too much work to do and too little time to do it, with my having to continue instructing students during the day and then having just the two of us to construct something so delicate.”

  Benny’s brow furrowed. “You want to bring somebody else in to help. Who, though? We need someone who is skilled and intelligent but won’t pose a risk.”

  Nindlerod smiled. Benny perfectly hit on the points he had considered.

  Benny saw the smile and his eyes took on a look or recognition. “Oh, no. We are not asking Karl Jarlish.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Nindlerod replied. “However, Mister Jarlish happens to be among the best engineering students I’ve seen in years, present company not included. Despite the cute little rivalry you have with Karl, he is a trustworthy young man and is our best bet if you want to create that many canisters. Even then, we may need extra time.”

  Benny’s face clouded with frustration. Nindlerod could almost hear the gears in the young man’s mind turning as he worked through the problem.

  Not yet giving in, Benny pleaded. “There must be another way, someone else who can help. Anyone?”

  “The trigger mechanism you have conceived is complex and needs a steady hand. Karl is among the best I’ve seen at metal work,” Nindlerod explained. “I’m sorry, but he is our best shot. You don’t want to blow yourself up, do you?”

  After a moment, Benny released a sigh. “Fine. You can pull Karl in to help.”

  A smile spread across Nindlerod’s face. “I’m glad you see my logic.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have to like it,” Benny grumbled.

  “It looks like you’re done here, so I will go find Karl and get him started right away,” Nindlerod said as he stepped to the stall door. “What are you going to work on?”