[M] Runes

[Azazeal849]

Solar reined in his own mount, while ahead of them Wraith and Illusion did the same.

“They call me Solar because I say what I think.” the young mage answered, holding his chin high.

“Meaning they think he’s a hot-headed idiot.” the Immortal translated from the back of the column.

“Hey.” the Illusion interjected, coming unexpectedly to Solar’s defence. “He took a spear for me this morning.”

Solar’s hand went to his stomach, rubbing the red fabric that was still holed where the Ashman spear had passed through. “Something I’d rather not do again, to be fair.”

“Like I said.” the Immortal grunted, as if the exchange proved his point. “Idiot. Only idiots catch spears with their bellies.”

Solar scowled, and cleared his throat. “Next question.” He looked at Red, who was still gazing out across the water. “What do you do, exactly? I assume you don’t just hike around the Valley picking fights with mages who wear the same colour as you.”

[Scottie]

Fingertips were burning into her skull as she pressed her palms over her face. It was like dealing with a haggle of children. From the petulant Immortal to the loudmouthed Solar and the nuisance of Red. She had placed her head in her hands to think. To try and block them out. The suggestions that came bombarding in from walking further on a memory or forcing Solar to strain himself in making an ice bridge. Then came the game.

‘I want you to answer my questions” “Well I wanna ask questions to.” It sounded like a children’s game. A deep sigh tore through her body, forcing her ribs to press against her dry skin.

“Maybe he’s not a complete idiot after all?”

The smallest of smirks tugged on to her lips as she replied. “Give it time.” It was the speech given by Red that sparked her attention. The woman wanted something...more than answers, she wanted something else. It felt very...dickish of the woman to tell them she could help but ONLY if they answered correctly. Her hands settled back on the horses reins. It had scared her at first, she worked near animals but was never given the privilege to touch them let alone ride them. The animal beneath her seemed kind though stubborn in its opinion on the water beside them.

On some scrappy colourful material lay the Immortal. He had demanded to be up front, wanting to see everything first “For I am the Immortal. That is all the reason I need...Mush” That response nearly had him tumbling from the horse but she held back. They needed him where they were heading and she hated to admit it….but she liked him. His company was pleasant in this group even if it merely consisted of sarcasm and egotistical comments.

“Me and my little brother used to help them out as soon as we were old enough.” It was strange to hear Solar talk of his past. It made him seem more human. As if there was more to him than his loud mouth comments. She listened in silence, her cracked lips remained in a thin line. Not a single flicker of emotion crossed her face. His final statement had her gaze snapped to him. He hated the Leveller, good. They needed hate and passion but also a rational mind. Solar at least knew when to stop….after being told. The Wanderer did not know that the others would know where the line is.

Solars question to Red hadn’t been what she expected nor wanted. The Light City. Intriguing. The Wanderer sucked in the information like the crabbit sponge that she was. It was noted the emotion that Red displayed when talking about a "he" but she did not press on it. The Wanderer was certain she knew the answer to Red’s second question but she waited to hear the response. The response was childlike and the wanderer couldn’t help herself from letting out a short harsh snort of laughter. The Immortals response only had her chuckling softly. It was true, yes Solar had aided Illusion in the fight. Saving her really. But the idea that Solar was called Solar...because he said what he likes….it was too much really.

“What do you do, exactly? I assume you don’t just hike around the Valley picking fights with mages who wear the same colour as you.” Her eyes lit up with that question. The mentioning of a job had sparked her curiosity and now the wanderer wanted to know what sort of employment a person like Red could truly be in. “Yes.” She let her voice carry to the front of the group as they pulled in before the river. “What do you do?” Dull green eyes latched onto Red as the question lingered in the air as her horse trotted leisurely up behind the others.

[Katrina]

Red clenched and unclenched her fist, preparing muscles for the pain she was about to endure. She knew this would be a large room she would be casting. Still, she expected the pain to be delicious.

She spoke over her shoulder. “No. I do not HIKE across the valley, I TRAVEL. For work. And I did NOT pick a fight with Redmoor,” she corrected, recalling how Solar had absentmindedly spoken the red-mages name earlier to the man on the porch. Maybe he was an idiot? “I was watching his fight in the caves. He attacked me first. I was merely watching from a distance and he pulled me off a rock ledge. So yes, I’d like to finish what he started. I never let go of my foe. NEVER. It’s what I was taught.”

She took a deep and audible breath, despite the volume of the tumbling water in front of her. She lifted her right hand, palm towards the sky, and spoke clearly.

“Room.”

A translucent orb appeared in her palm, not touching her skin, but holding itself in the air just above her hand. She curled her fingers inward, then out again rapidly. The orb expanded in a blind second, enveloping everyone. She targeted the pebbles lining the water on the other side of the river.

Red snapped her fingers once. The sound of wind surrounded them all, and the ground swayed beneath them as they were moved to the bank on the other side, and the pebbles she switched them with dropped in their places. As soon as they clattered on the opposite side, the dome encasing them shrunk as quickly as it had grown. Red gripped her right hand, her breath shuddering. The horses seemed startled, so she quickly calmed hers before it had a chance to kick Ambie off.

“Shhhh. Hush now wise one,” she muttered. “It’s fine, you’re fine. Hushhhh.”

She spoke as she climbed back into the saddle. “As for what I DO, I don’t expect any of you to believe me.” She briefly lifted her head towards Wanderer. “Still, out of respect for the deal we’ve made,” she turned her focus back to Solar, finding him the easiest to speak to. “I’ll uphold honesty.” She then scanned slowly, looking at each one of the members of the group, recognizing their uniqueness. Every one of them was different. Perhaps they’d understand. She made note of the masked man, wondering if he would understand more than any of them.

“The enlightened make use of us, but we do not work FOR them. We accept tasks from them, but owe no allegiance to them. We take jobs from anyone who can give us what we need, which isn’t always money by the way. Just as most fighters have a characteristic that pertains to their name, or the other way around, I am a specific type of fighter. Some have referred to us as ‘Assassins,’ which we don’t agree with. We do assassinate, but we do other things to. Others have called us ‘the hidden ones.’ A bit more creative I’d say. We call ourselves Hunters. Though the Enlightened just call us a ‘gang.’” She spoke the last sentence shortly, almost like it was an insult.
“Just as the archer works with the bow and arrow, the spearman with the spear, and so on, we Hunters work with stealth. When stealth cannot be used, we are trained to approach the situation with secrecy, hence hiding my face. My mentor taught me to be swift, precise, brutal, but hidden. And it wouldn’t surprise me if you have no idea what people I’m talking about. That is kind of the point, to stay hidden. I was on a job when the leveler-“ She pursed her lips, realizing she had given enough information. The pain from rune usage was truly unique compared to anything else. It was making her babble.
She dropped her head and gasped, tightly clutching her right arm as the pain persisted it’s way through her response. It was sharp, carving its way through her flesh and bones and nerves, all the way up to her shoulder. It even dipped into the muscles in her neck.
“Solar.” She grunted his name, and forced out her responding question as if nothing was happening to her. “Do you have any flame runes? For some reason,” she lifted her head and exhaled to calm herself again. She almost sounded like she might be trying to be sarcastic, but like it wasn’t quite coming out that way. “I’ve got this image of you in my head, wielding a flaming sword. So, flame runes? Yay or nay?”

[Azazeal849]

The bubble surrounding them collapsed with a pop of air, leaving Solar rubbing his ear with the heel of one hand and Illusion working her jaw.

“That’s quite a trick.” Solar admitted as he struggled to control his horse. All the animals had been startled by their sudden translocation to the far bank of the mighty River. They tossed their heads and edged round in stationary circles, ears pricked back.

Red spoke as she climbed back into the saddle. “As for what I DO, I don’t expect any of you to believe me.”

…

“We call ourselves Hunters.”

“Hunters.” Wraith repeated, chewing on the name and clearly recognising it. “Yes, I know of them. The Enlightened’s secret police within their city.”

“My dad always said they were just a bunch of thugs they tolerated because they kept the other gangs down.” Solar said, and then shrugged. “No offence.”

“Though the Enlightened just call us a gang.” Red spoke the last sentence shortly, almost like it was an insult.

...

“Solar.” She grunted his name, and forced out her responding question as if nothing was happening to her. “Do you have any flame runes? For some reason, I’ve got this image of you in my head, wielding a flaming sword. So, flame runes? Yay or nay?”

Solar grinned. “Oh, I know fire. And a few other things besides. But for actual flaming swords, you want that guy.” He pointed at Wraith, who was scrutinising Red from behind his iron mask. If he had thoughts on the toll her rune had taken on her, he did not voice them.

“I do have such runes.” the Wraith allowed. “But I do not use them lightly.”

“Fiery or not, as long as he sticks the sharp end into the Leveler after we find out her name then we’re golden.” the Immortal observed from atop Wanderer’s horse.

“Leveler has army.” the Ambassador spoke up, still clinging gingerly to her saddle. “They have sharp swords too.”

The Immortal flashed one of his disarmingly bright smiles. “Oh don’t you worry about that, Ambie. As I hope was ably demonstrated back at the mine, I can fix things so you just stroll up to the Leveler while happily flipping off every spearman in the way.”

“I resolved not to raise my blades in anything but self defence.” Wraith broke in warningly. “Until I saw the Leveler for myself. The Enlightened were no paragons. The Leveler may have been right to wish to overthrow them. But the blood shed in the taking of the city must be justified - and if necessary, avenged.”

“Justified?” Solar repeated hotly. “If my little brother was hurt or killed, could you ever call that justified?”

“The Leveler is no paragon either.” Illusion joined in. “At first I believed her like everyone else. She threw down the old masters and freed every slave in the city of Ash. Wasn’t it noble to do the same for those oppressed by the Enlightened? Wasn’t every soldier who stood in our way an evil savage of the same kind the Enlightened had been sending against our city since it was founded?” She shook her head. “I thought it was us versus them. With the Leveler or against her. I was so convinced that it would all be worth it in the end that I looked past every grieving family we left behind us...until it was my family torn apart by the same poisonous myth.”

The Illusion closed her eyes, closing down in her guilt.

The Wraith urged his horse forward. “I never had a family,” he stated in a grim monotone. “Only a master who taught me how to punish sins. That is why I can judge with clarity. Come. If we must get to the City of the Risen God to meet our goals, then let us do so quickly.”

Lost for words Solar just scowled, shaking his head at the masked man as he rode off.

Nudging their horses one by one, the group straggled forward towards the abandoned farm and picked up the new road that ran north to where the River would eventually be joined by the smaller Tributary. This time, most of them rode in sulking silence.

The Immortal rolled his eyes. “This is why I never get involved in politics.”

[Azazeal849]

The Hole's first step past the shattered ice barrier barring the entrance to the temple stunned her. When the glittering woman looked behind her from the view above, she saw yet again the Leveler's power on display. Down the alleyways filled with soldiers of her command, the dead of her condemned, old ways dying.

"I knew if I followed her I'd see the world change." Cara spoke aloud, letting her voice carry to the realms of space, in the great distance of her supernatural perception. She too had blood on her, against the shine of bright metal plates and soaked in the soft parts of her armour. Cara too did her part to help bring this city into the present, one commanded by the Leveler's liberation. Not everyone here would need to die to learn what freedom was, they were simply afraid of it.

Among the bodies maybe her parents were here. They fled from the Leveler; her father had been a Lightman. For a brief time Cara felt ready to fall to her knees, like the little girl who had been abandoned was taking over her body. For a moment the magic she felt, the connection from above, couldn't reach past her loneliness. A terrible impulse gripped her, mum and dad.

"They didn't stay and die, they ran away again." It was personal, bitter, spoken to cut off those feelings. Again, liberation returned to her mind and heart.

Certain of her actions, the Hole turned and entered into the religious domain. The aftershocks of runecraft still hanging in the air made her skin prickle. Past ice shards, into a room of particular bodies, where stood the Apprentice and the Leveler whom she was bound to. They stood amid smouldering coals, melting chunks of ice, twists of thorny vine that had dessicated into black, helical claws. And everywhere blood - so much blood. It was fanned across one of the limewashed walls, and soaked into the cracked mosaic tiles under Cara’s feet. Wide, rusty streaks across the floor showed where bodies had been dragged away. Two Ashmen hobbled past her, carrying the broken-necked corpse of an old woman in robes of blood-fouled silk.

“There you are.” The Leveler was bloody too - crowned with it, sticky with it beneath the simple cloak she was holding closed around her body. Her dark hair was straggled with gore, and the bar of pastel blue across her eyes had been obliterated by cracked streaks of red.

Running up, the mixed, sparkling fighter entered their line of sight.

"You asked for the Hole, and here I am, coming!" She smiled eagerly.

The Leveler jerked her head towards the floor to Cara’s left. More blood - this time flecked and spattered as if from a glancing wound.

“The Scorpion.” Leveler explained. Cara could see her right hand shifting under the cloak, flexing restlessly open and closed, open and closed. “He used a transportation rune to escape the fight. I need you to make a link, follow him and finish this.”

The Leveler’s expression was one of weary triumph. She shifted her grip on the edges of her cloak, but it was her left hand that she extended to squeeze Cara’s armoured shoulder. Without further word she limped past Cara and began to make her way slowly towards the carved doors at the back of the temple.

Thinking little of the Leveler's command, the Hole smiled and with it promised to do her part. Watching the liberator walk away, Cara glanced once at the Apprentice before heading to the pointed-to pool of blood. The room was a mess, and figuring out where one pool of blood ended and another began was a mystery in of itself. The stomping of her boots was wet but she continued, eyes on the ground looking for the exact splatter the Leveler had pointed to.

She became aware of the Apprentice following up behind her. He was hugging his elbows across his dust-streaked armour, a frown creasing his tawny face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, “I saw you falter at the door.”

His frown was one of concern, but there was also something cagey about his tone, as if he were probing to see if she shared some unspoken thought. Cara dismissed his interests and worries with laughter. Picking her spot, she lowered herself to her knees with a heavy clank.

"Limiting thoughts from a limited place of thinking." Her smile was bright and carefree, giving away her emotional nature to leap from inner turmoil.

Cara’s hands pressed down on the mosaic tiles and she lowered her head. Sparkling hair rolled off her shoulder, seeping into the blood and swimming in it. Her lapping tongue slapped water on her upper lip and skin, swallowing with loud and audible intention to get as much down as possible.

Pausing for breath Cara pulled up and with half her face smeared in battle-shed blood looked at the Apprentice. "Right?" she asked him, wanting his confirmation that indeed the times past were limited compared to now.

“Right.” the Apprentice agreed automatically. He was trying to smile, but his gaze kept flickering from her eyes to her bloody lips. With the smears of red across her cheeks and neck, she no doubt resembled the Leveler herself.

A muscle twitched in the Apprentice’s cheek. “Cara…” he blurted, taking a half step forward only to arrest his own movement and fall back. “Sorry, never mind.”

With that hurried apology, he shrugged his cloak back into place and made a swift exit from the temple. The sun-scorched forecourt flashed briefly through the doorway, and then the door swung back to leave Cara alone in the death-heavy stillness of the temple.

* * * * * *

The Leveler tilted the bucket, and a steady cascade of water washed down over her, leaching the red from her hair and skin, and pooling in pink swirls around her bare feet. Squeezing the wet hair back away from her face, she dipped her head into a woolen towel before tossing it aside. It landed among the wicker chairs, smudged with red.

As she shrugged her gown back over her head and began to tug it into place, she saw the Blue Lady watching her in the polished bronze mirror that hung on the wall in front of her. The vanquished Enlightened stood leaning heavily on the wall but her head stayed up, trying to retain a measure of pride against her pain and fatigue. Her glossy hair was straggling from its pleat, and the impact with the stone column in the atrium had split her cheek and darkened her copper skin purple.

“You should get a healer to see to that.” the Leveler spoke into the mirror without turning round. “When we step out together, your people will need to see their holy leader looking the part. You’re the only Enlightened One left, after all.”

“Two.” the Blue Lady murmured.

The Leveler cinched her belt around her waist, biting back a curse as her dead right hand fumbled momentarily with the clasp. “Pardon?”

The Blue Lady’s eyes were large in her battered face, and the ghost of a smile graced her lips. “Two.” she repeated, in slurring but passable Ash. “There are two Enlightened. The Scorpion escaped you.”

The Leveler’s return smile was frosty cold. “Not for long.”

Suddenly invading the space between the victorious and the defeated came a portal of pitch black and twinkling light. Appearing swiftly from nothing, the cosmic doorway slammed shut by quickly shrinking in an instant. The hypnotic effect of staring into the void the length of a blinking eye. The black cloud coming from it became a sparkling, blood-soaked woman known very well to the Leveler.

"HYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" the Hole screamed, ready to demoralise the Scorpion and deal the fatal blow before he could react. As the scene was new to her, the point of her pike guided her through the new venture. As the tip of her sparkling weapon was mere inches from the Blue Lady's abdomen, the Hole screamed for an entirely new reason, "Wrong person!" She diverted her blade from impaling the woman and instead stabbed the wall the Blue Lady leaned onto with depleted need.

But the Hole had charged with great momentum. While her pike was stopped by the wall, the Hole's body still continued with the vigour of her rush. Slipping hold of her weapon the mixed woman inadvertently headbutted the Blue Lady, colliding their bodies and slamming both of them against the wall.

The impact of their bodies against the wall knocked them both to the ground in a tangled pile of limbs; they rolled once and the Hole's mouth was pierced by Blue Lady's nose as she lay on top of the exhausted Enlightened. Hole's bloody lips wet the Blue Lady with, now clearly understood, streams of her own blood.

The Hole was too confused to move anymore, waiting for her head to stop spinning.

“Oh Shattered Gods!” the Blue Lady shrieked as she tried to thrash her way out from under her frozen would-be assassin. “You said...you promised...what is the meaning of this!?”

The Leveler wore an uncharacteristic expression of utter bewilderment as she looked down at them. “Hole.” she said at last, “I told you to go after the Scorpion.”

Apologetically Cara loosened her lips off of Blue Lady’s nose and looked up at Leveler.

“I licked where you told me to.” she replied, with her blood-painted mouth frowning.

The Blue Lady shivered, visibly revolted. She crabbed back until she was pressed into the corner of the room, the light from the sconce-held torches flickering across her bruised face. “That...runecraft…” she whispered, and then, more strongly, “What is this blasphemy?”

The Leveler rallied a little, her mouth twitching in amusement. “Runes from the sky, Blue Lady. Secrets of the gods that even the Enlightened don’t know. Remember the limits of your power.”

The firelight wavering across the Leveler’s face briefly illuminated a tracery of dark threads, almost like scales, but a moment later they were gone, as if it had been a mere trick of the light.

“Allow me to introduce the Hole.” she told the Blue Lady, clasping her hands behind her back as she turned to Cara. “Hole, this is the Blue Lady; the Enlightened one who speaks for the Shattered Gods.” Her smile flickered. “But you can call her Keri, daughter of Neve.”

The Blue Lady shuddered violently and let out a low moan. Her copper skin briefly glowed bright, and Cara felt a pulse of magic dissipating into the air. It was much weaker than she would have expected from a powerful mage - she guessed that the unfortunate woman had already been named, and recently. The Blue Lady groaned and withdrew further into her corner, hugging her knees up against her chest, forehead dipping to rest against them. Cara, on her feet, watched the azure dressed woman with curious neutrality. The pain seen and heard meant nothing to the mixed woman, nothing more than a shift of ideas happening for the Enlightened.

"That is a pretty name." Cara remarked evenly and hummed, turning back to her leader. "...Should I try licking the spot again or...?" She ran a finger over her chin and droplets slid down the length of the digit. "I don't think this was his." The Hole took a moment to think about it more. "It would have been easier if he'd spit in my mouth, then I'd really know it was his! Licking it off the floor is tricky."

The Blue Lady raised her head weakly. "What kind of creatures do you associate yourself with, Leveler?"

The Leveler folded her arms, looking down at the Lightwoman. "The kind who see the world differently." she answered. "Maybe you should do the same. Because, as of today, the world is changing."

She swirled a light woollen cloak around her shoulders and pinned it into place.

"I'll call a healer for you." the Leveler said. "We address the city in an hour."

She turned and swept out of the room, gesturing for Cara to follow her. Past the guards at the door and through the cool, airy corridors of the Enlightened palace, they were soon back in the desecrated temple. The tinnitus ring of rune-casts had subsided from the air, but the blood remained. The Leveler surveyed the floor, unconsciously cupping her right hand in her left, massaging the palm with her thumb. The Hole kept close to The Leveler and studied the room with her. There was an overwhelming amount of blood, how was anyone to fine a single person’s?

“Is any of his blood on you? I could use that.” The woman leaned forward, looked up and met the leader’s eyes with a warming smile.

The Leveler’s face closed down. “No.” she said. “No, that blood belonged to the Rose.”

Her tongue passing briefly over her top lip as she let go of the hand she was cradling and pointed to a blood-spattered section of floor.

“There. That blood is his.” Cara ran quickly to obey. Shamelessly she slid her tongue, the scratchy texture of the tile thinly felt through liquid barrier. Small brushes of 'cleaned' spots appeared where she had taken the blood into herself. The strong aroma flew up into The Hole's nostrils, and the taste of metal stung her mouth.

The inner sense of a new connection was made and Cara made sure her leader was aware by giving a smile.

"Do you want any of his body parts?"

The Leveler was quiet for another moment, but then her smile seemed to return. "No, I trust you." hearing the admission from The Leveler, The Hole blushed. It was the highest honor to be had. It was the acknowledgement that she herself was embodying liberation.

The dark smoke of space came, took over Cara’s shape, and took her as well - off to complete The Leveler’s brutal task.

[Minkasha]

Salty air was his refuge. A sturdy man stared out at the oceanic waves rushing to and away from the waterfront. The weight of surviving, of fleeing, and the death of his fellows kept his stare longing and furious. The Scorpion , sheltered, by his bandages across his abdomen sat alone through the cold mountainside breeze. Then, there was a pricking sensation smothering his nervous system. New, invading, a warning. His inner ears rang, the incoming magic was nearer to him than his sudden sense of caution could have warned.

His time with the ocean was going to end. Either he would die here, or have to run again for The Leveler’s magic was more relentless than he could have guessed.

“Haaa!” His jaw opened, letting loose into the air a protective cloud of green poison. In the midsts of the sickly magic, a cosmic peak through black clouds appeared. For a moment the airy elements of death and space hung together in the air until The Hole was released from the black portal and her body shed from the cosmic blanketing.

Her first experience in the new place was overwhelmingly painful. Tears welled in her eyes, fire in her lungs. The body gulped for something refreshing: for water or even air free of the painful gas. Cara whimpered and struggled to breathe. Footing in the dune sand faltered.

Wham! The Scorpion didn’t take time to look at the fighter, keeping his eyes on the sparkles standing out through his poison cloud. His foot pounded deep in the attacker’s chest. Cara was finally freed of the gas, thudding painfully onto small rocks and sand, then rolling down the steep dune hill she had appeared on.

Wind was taking away Scorpion’s shielding obstruction. He hurried to slip and fasten his gauntlets back on. The lean body was protected only with cotton underpants and the metal braces over his forearms, but there was much he could do with those. When he could see the woman at the base of the hill who tried to get the jump on him, he was disgusted.

The Hole was a strange vision: a beautiful young woman of lightly colored mocha skin, caked in drying blood and sticking clumps of sand, and layered with a beatific glitter that sickly flaunted the many things morbid and unkept about her appearance. The Scorpion narrowed his eyes down at the woman.

“Hole” he said with a growling recognition. “I finally see The Leveler’s foulest agent of destruction”

Cara was reeling from the force taken by her sternum. The metal plating did its part in baring the impact from disabling her outright, but she still had to get the air back into her lungs. Standing, The Hole looked up the dune and saw eyes with a familiar expression: judgment.

Between them speaking, the crashing waves held their conversation with gentle sounds. Through her armor she felt sand moving into funny places.

“Scorpion, it’s not destruction, it’s revolution. Maybe you don’t understand that because you left a bunch of blood on the temple floor. Don’t people who run away like to be free?” She asked coyly and took off a long band of hair. The glittering tresses intensified, concealing the shape until what was in place was a long pike sparkling in its place. “I’ve swallowed your essence inside of me, now you’ll never run again”

Scorpion shuddered.

“There is nothing of me I want to think about you swallowing” Cara pointed up at him. “But…what did you swallow? My blood?” He guessed from her soiled appearance and face. The Hole smiled and nodded, her white teeth stained by the fluids taken from the temple floor.

Cara narrowed her eyes when the man at the top of the dune relaxed his shoulders. Was he taunting her? No such things affected her, for from the understanding of ‘The Wide Hole’ she knew what mattered was the spreading of ideas, the living of people who represented them. And Scorpion was an old idea which needed to be cut down.

Feet stooped deep in sand, running up the dune, The Hole moved to The Scorpion with her pike taking the lead. Small craters of her footsteps marked her labor up to the lean and injured combatant. The Scorpion’s face hardened into hatred, but he had no movement Cara could see to defend himself.

Each of her breaths burned with exhaled poison gas, challenging her stamina.

The tip of the spike was less than a foot from him when he took a breath, blinked and stared The Hole directly into the eye. Cara flinched and a cold shiver went down her spine. By the time The Hole swung her weapon an intense nausea doubled with the fire fading from her lungs. The Scorpion caught the swinging weapon and laughed a low chuckle.

“The Scorpion” he repeated his name. “Stupid bitch my blood is poisono-”

“-uhh uwaahhh!” Projecting from her lips bloody vomit came in a wave impacting the black man’s face, neck and chest. The Hole shuddered and coughed, paralyzed by her symptoms. What Scorpion didn’t expect was vomit flying at such speed and power. His very taunt became a danger to him once vomit laced with his bitter magic landed in his mouth from Hole’s. The activated rune had infused the blood with a volatile poison turning against him. The man also felt sick to his stomach.

“Uh…oh gods no….uwaaaah!” He too vomited, the sandy water front hosting bile bathed warriors locked in a life or death struggle. He too vomited with vigor, adding to The Hole’s sloppy demeanor a batter of throw up to rest over her armor and the length of her hair. Together the two of them stood, stunned by the magic illness spread through them.

But The Hole had the advantage. As The Scorpion was riddled with disgust and debilitating humiliation, The Hole had a murderous history of ingesting every expelling substance of the human body. Gritting her teeth she willed herself through the sickness beginning to attack her and slammed her head against The Scorpion’s. The sloppy sound of crashing skin and wet vomit smacked loud in the air and the male fighter fell on his knee.

One of his thick hands reached out, projecting from them green energetic darts dodged sloppily by Cara relying on her pike as a walking cane. Leaning heavily onto her sand impaling weapon the sparkling woman groaned in sickness. The conflict was becoming a contest of who could endure the draining effects best.

The Scorpion’s shivering body growled, fighting through the calls of his nervous system to stop moving. He lunged from the sand, tackled The Hole and they tumbled down the dune. His bandages were being cut open by the sharp edges of rocks they rolled over. Cara was hit with a serious injury to the side of her skull, she too hit by a poorly placed rock. By the time the two of them reached the bottom, both were in worse shape, retching.

The moment was intimate: Scorpion’s sweaty face near her ear and retching loudly and uncontrollably, Hole doing the same with equal levels of victimization from the ill magic. Crippled upon each other, their ears were overloaded with the guttural noises of the other on the precipice of hurling.

Cara’s diaphragm was weighed down by Scorpion’s heavy body pinning her down on the sand.

“Ha…” The Hole laughed weakly, “We’re vomit siblings and blood siblings” she joked, considering both fluids had been switched between them. Her throat was gripped tightly and The Scorpion stared into her eyes with zealous vitriol.

“The truly faithful…will…uhhwaa!” His upchucking drenched The Hole’s face like the waves of water over sand. There was a painful stinging in her eyes yet again, vomit particles sneaking into her shut vision. This suddenly reminded her of a previous fight she had once, and oddly the full vomit facial was comfortably warm when she shrugged off the raw, pungent, smell. “prevail!”

Above them a new cosmic cloud came into being, a work of Cara’s runework while she lay prone and helpless. The monster of nebulous, hulking body, bright stars and sharp teeth emerged. However Scorpion hadn’t noticed in his weakened and emotional state. That was until the creature mercilessly bit into the Scorpion’s abdomen, lifted him off Cara’s body and threw him hard against the rocky sand dune.

Before the man could try to get up, or react to the massive gash in his back the beast lunged the reclined man. It was a brutal scene: Powerful clawed hands held down the warrior’s arms and feasting wildly, gore splurted down sand and over dull colored, water worn rocks. Scorpion was literally being eaten in half.

The Hole rolled on her side, letting gravity pull off the heavy chunks of his bile and observed.

“THE LEVELER IS DOOMED! THEY HAVE THE BOOK! THEY HAVE THE BOOK!” she heard him spitefully yell at her. In the time it took Cara to stand The Scorpion was dead. His entrails dangled from her creation’s mouth, swallowed down foot by foot of intestine. The black skinned man was left laying where he was, in a sliding pool of blood and entirely missing the middle section of his body.

“What does that mean?” The space warrior asked, entirely unphased by the morbidity of what was experienced, oblivious to it. “I’m tired, help me out” she told her cloudy companion. It ran up the hill and thrashed aside the Lightman’s armor till it sensed a sack of magic and grasped it. Hopping on three legs it handed it to Cara and vanished.

Holding onto it, Cara looked around one last time. Whatever else may have been here she was too weak to search for, still with the threat of being crippled if she didn’t rest. With The Scoprion deceased the magic making her ill was giving away, but she was exhausted none-the-less.

A series of new stars came and went, a flurry of black clouds and Cara was gone. On the bloody temple ground the woman collapsed into unconsciousness, newly acquired runes rolling around and waiting to be taken in The Leveler’s clutch.

[Azazeal849]

The madness was over now. Fire and screams on the streets of the Light city had given way to coughing, wailing, and dull palls of grey smoke that drifted blearily up into the clear sky.

The Leveler was ensconced in the administrative palace, a looming building of timber, mudbrick and painted stone overlooking the city quays. Four of her faithful spearmen stood watch, while others sorted through an avalanche of papers and wax tablets that had been scattered in the chaos of the siege. Some of the documents had even had to be rescued from fires that the Lightmen bureaucrats had hastily thrown them into before fleeing. Looking at the strange right-to-left script printed on the scrolls, the Leveler reflected that bringing order back to the alien city might be harder than she had thought.

“My lady.” a voice requested her attention. “Someone to see you.”

The Leveler raised her head from the papers on the desk to see a knot of people stepping into her room. Her faithful Apprentice walked alongside the pale, scar-ravaged Burning One, and on his other side was the Blademaiden, straight-backed and austere with her palm resting on the hilt of her ever-present sabre. The man walking beside and slightly ahead of them was new to the Leveler. He was tall, with leathery tawny-brown skin and a thick beard that was speckled with grey. He wore a faded brown cloak, whose hood he kept raised even beneath the roof of the palace.

“And who is this?” the Leveler inquired, looking to the Apprentice to translate.

“You may call me Keero, your magnificence.” the bearded man spoke up, surprising the Leveler with a perfect grasp of Ash. “I have the honour of being the leader of the Hunters.”

The Leveler raised an eyebrow. “And they are?”

The man called Keero folded his hands. “Many things, magnificence. But most of interest to you, the Enlightened paid us to keep the peace within this fair city. Well of course, now…” The man cast his eyes around the paper-scattered room and shrugged. “The Enlightened no longer rule here, but order still needs to be maintained - especially right now. A snake priest’s sermon goes a long way to keeping people on the straight and narrow path, but a bronze dagger goes even further, if you take my meaning?”

The Leveler folded her hands. “And how much did the Enlightened pay you for your…services?”

Keero clasped his arms behind his back. “Five hundred silver coins per month, if it please your magnificence. Plus the occasional rune to demonstrate to the people that we are blessed by the gods and have their sanction.”

The Leveler hmm’d. “As you may have noticed, master Keero, I already have thousands of spearmen in this city to keep the peace. And dozens of mages with their own runes. I know that these people are already loyal to me. Why then would I need you?”

“With the greatest respect, magnificence, the city will not accept your soldiers. They are invaders. Worse than that, they are Ashmen. To the people here, Ashmen are blasphemers. Snake-eaters.”

“I am an Ashwoman too.” the Leveler pointed out, warningly. “And I doubt you’ll find a single freedman in my army who’s ever eaten one of your sacred water-snakes. Everyone who was rich enough to afford that particular delicacy was cast down when I liberated the city.”

Keero spread his arms placatingly. “Be that as it may, magnificence, that is what the people will believe.”

The Leveler flexed the fingers of her right hand. “Believe…” she murmured.

After a moment of silence, she half rose from her cushioned wicker chair, fists pressing into the desk that had once belonged to a Lightman administrator.

“Here’s something you should start to believe, master Keero. Loyalty is going to be the new currency of this city, not money. And if you think your Hunters are the only ones who can command fear and respect...then you’re mistaken. I will leave that job to loyal men and women.”

The Blademaiden silently nodded her approval, her full lips curving into a smile. The Burning smiled too, though his scarred grin held more malice. The Apprentice’s expression was carefully neutral.

The Leveler locked eyes with him, cocking an eyebrow. “Speak your mind.”

The Apprentice’s gaze flickered down to the floor, and then back up to meet the Leveler’s. “My lady, these Hunters might be trustworthy or they might not. A sense of continuity might be good for the city, or it might not.”

A smile tugged at the corner of the Leveler’s mouth. “We didn’t come here to carry on the same sclerotic order.”

The Apprentice dipped his head in acknowledgement of the point. “My concern, my lady, is to have these Hunters in the city and not under our control.”

The Leveler nodded slowly. “You might be right.” She looked at Keero, and then let her gaze slide past him to the Burning. “Arrest him.”

“What…?” Keero began, but then the Burning’s hand landed on his shoulder and seized his collar. Sparks of flame flickered warningly around the big mage’s scarred hands. The Burning One grinned again, the expression doing something hideous to his ravaged face. Keero’s eyes darted from his antagonist to the Leveler.

“Think carefully, Leveler.” the bearded man said with quiet dignity. “You might be starting something here that you can’t finish.”

“Don’t threaten me, master Keero.” the Leveler responded coolly. “Everyone who does that ends up dead.” She waved her hand in dismissal.

Keero kept his eyes silently locked on the Leveler as the Burning hauled him backwards.

“And round up the rest of these so-called Hunters as well.” The Leveler settled back into her seat as the mercenary was dragged away.

That was the failing of the Enlightened. They relied too much on mercenaries, because they were too paranoid to trust anyone else with their runes.

The exchange reminded her of a certain other mercenary she would need to deal with. Redmoor had recruited him and even raised him to command of his own spear company, but his intelligence value had run out after the skirmish at the rune mines.

“My lady,” the Blademaiden spoke up in a measured tone, interrupting her thoughts. “There is something else.”

The Leveler looked up and refolded her hands. “Oh?”

“It’s the Hole. She came back with the Scorpion’s runes.”

The Leveler smiled. “She can be the first to touch them. She’s earned that.”

“She was injured.” the Apprentice spoke up, “And…” He shook his head and grimaced, not sure quite how to describe the Hole’s bloody and vomit-caked state when she had reappeared in the Enlightened pyramid.

The Leveler ground her left thumb into her right palm. “You called a healer for her?”

“Yes, she’s with the Singer now.” The Apprentice looked concerned despite his own reassurance. “She was babbling in her sleep; she kept saying, they have the Book...?”

The Leveler looked up sharply. “The Book. You’re sure that’s what she said?”

“Yes.” The Apprentice frowned uncertainly. “My Lady?”

“The Immortal’s still trying to fuck me, even after I blow him to bits.” The Leveler rose sharply to her feet. “Gather the inner circle. Tell the Arbiter and the Grey Sisters that they are to keep the peace until I get back.”

Blademaiden and the Apprentice glanced at each other. They were to leave the city - in the midst of their triumph? With the new regime barely announced and none of the city’s infrastructure yet back in place?

“My Lady.” the Apprentice said, straightening. “Whatever needs done, let me take care of it. The Lightmen need you here - not just to visibly rule but to hear their petitions after the city was sacked.”

“If we don’t move now we’re all in danger.” The Leveler pushed past her wicker chair, causing it to tilt back and clatter across the floor. “Hole said that group of renegades and traitors had a Mer with them. Well it looks like that Mer has given them the gods-damn Book of Names.”

Her two acolytes had no answer but silence. The Leveler lunged across her writing desk to grab the tiny wooden box that the Hole had brought back after her first skirmish with the Lightmen.

“We’re going after them, now.”

[Azazeal849]

Spoiler: Secrets - Volume 4 

“Why do you want to learn the runes, boy?”

The man stared through curtains of brittle brown hair, calmly sizing up the youth who stood before him.

“Do you know what kind of life you will have, here in the Risen city?”

The boy stood tall - proud and self-assured by the stubborn confidence of youth. Curling black hair had been cut close to his umber scalp, and the lines of his nose and jaw showed promise of growing into a handsome man if the Risen God granted him three or four more years of life. His eyes were dark in colour, but bright with conviction. Here was a boy who would not be easily turned from his goals, regardless of the opinions of others.

“Everyone believes in the Shattered Gods.” the boy told him. He spoke with the trilled r’s and rapid cadence of someone born and bred in the Riseman city. “But here we made our own god - a whole, strong god. The Risen God.”

The man’s gaze didn’t falter. “A god who hates magic.”

“A people who hate magic.” the boy countered. “And the only reason they can control us is that they know our names.”

“And,” the man reminded him, one hand coming up to brush the iron collar that he wore around his neck. “The runes are kept under lock and key until you surrender your name.”

“And then they work you to death.” the boy retorted scornfully. “Wouldn’t you want the freedom to use your runes for yourself? For the good you chose?”

The man exhaled down his nose. “Of course I would. But that cannot be for me, any more than it can for you.”

The boy pointed at the man’s sleeve. “I know that symbol, the tattoo you hide with your wristband. You’re a Seeker. You’re supposed to protect people.”

The man twitched, instinctively moving to tug his woollen sleeve down further, over the leather bangle he wore. He abandoned the gesture as useless, and just watched as the boy’s mouth curved into a smile.

“I was a Seeker.” the man admitted. “Once.”

“Will you teach me?”

The man exhaled again, shaking his head. “Without runes? The priests gave me them just long enough to gain their power, then locked them away again.”

The boy folded his arms. “A Seeker can always find runes.”

The man frowned, deepening the crow’s feet around the corners of his eyes. “You’re clever, boy. Perhaps too clever.” There was a pause. “Which means that for you to learn from someone other than me is probably more dangerous.” He sighed again, this time in resignation. “I know a place. Come back tonight.”

The boy bowed his thanks and ducked out through the hanging curtain serving to cover the hovel’s doorway. As he started off down the bustling street, his lips peeled back into a white smile.

“If there’s one new god,” the boy who would become the Immortal murmured to himself, “Then why shouldn’t there be another?”

Part 4 - The Teacher

The headwaters of the Tributary flowed down from the mountains to form the lesser of the Valley’s two rivers, twisting steadily east until it met its larger cousin and swirled on south towards the City of the Enlightened. Like the Tributary, the City of the Risen God had grown from the mountains too; a sombre, grey metropolis of alpine granite.

Unlike Ash and Light, which straddled the River at its source and estuary respectively and linked their two halves via bridges and ferries, the Risemen city squatted almost entirely on the southern bank of its watercourse. Its grey sprawl was framed by the low spine of mountains looming beyond the opposite bank, a long spur that jutted out from the higher peaks that enclosed the Valley and cut west to east almost as far as the River, separating the Risemen from the Ash city further north. Men of both cities referred to the long, craggy range simply as the Barrier, and it had no doubt been the reason that the Risemen were spared the Leveler’s wrath as she marched south to overthrow the Enlightened.

The farms and villages they had passed on their way west were still occupied, untroubled by the war between Ash and Light, but many had spearmen posted on watch, and the looks they gave the six travellers were unfriendly. The Risemen, with their strange religion and deep suspicion of runecraft, were no friends of the Leveler’s Ashmen - no more than they were friends of the dogmatic Lightmen to their south. But in their home city, the Immortal claimed, lived the man who could help them translate the Book and finish the Leveler, and so here they were. After a hard six days following the Tributary upstream, they had finally made camp within sight of the city walls.

The sun was rising far to the east, pushing out golden rays that struggled to reach the low ground where they camped. Nearby their horses snorted and stamped, their breath misting the early morning air.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” the Immortal’s head greeted the group, from his position atop their baggage. “I was getting sick of staring at Ambie’s face.”

The Ambassador sat under a tree with her legs folded under her, blinking back at the Immortal. “Sick of your face too, but face is all you have.”

The Immortal narrowed his eyes to dark slits. “Fuck you.”

“So you did actually keep watch last night?” Solar broke in as he stretched the knots out of his back and pulled on his boots.

The Immortal cocked an eyebrow. “If I was going to prank you, don’t you think I’d have done it before now?”

“I’m just saying,” Solar shrugged, “I’m never quite sure if I can turn my back on you. Unlike the rest of us, you never did give the fucking Mer your name.”

“Wanderer took the liberty of stuffing me in her bag, and I took an executive decision to stay hidden. As people keep pointing out, I’m a head. What do you think happens if you take the magic out of me?”

Solar finished lacing up his boots and stood. “And yet you now all know our names, but we don’t know yours. Even Red gave us that insurance.” He glanced across to Red, who was gathering her things. “No offence.”

“You may have noticed that Wanderer also weaseled out of giving the Mer her mother’s name.” the Immortal replied tartly. “Which just proves that she’s smarter than the rest of you.”

“Still.” Solar argued. “What’s to stop you from stabbing us in the back once you get what you want?”

The Immortal raised his eyebrows. "Honestly? Nothing, really. But it would require me to actually give a shit.”

Illusion folded her arms, troubled by the whole exchange. “And what exactly are you going to do when you use the Moonstone to get your body back?”

The Immortal laughed. "I’ll tell you what I won’t do. I’ll never take any bodily function for granted ever again. I'm going to eat an entire farm, take a shit, and then bang every willing girl from here back to the city of Light."

Solar, seemingly placated, offered a snide grin. “That won’t be many.”

“How about you shut up.” the Immortal replied flatly. “Let’s see now. If you want to get into the Risen city, you’re going to need a plan. The Risemen hate unregistered mages.”

[Katrina]

Her breath came fast, in-out-in-out, burning her dry throat with every gasp. The door was just in front of her, cobblestone walls closing in as she ran. Her child legs could only carry her so quickly. Multiple sets of boots echoed behind her. Clamoring steel and shifting armor. Alana glanced over her shoulder briefly, then continued sprinting to the end of the corridor. The door was shut! Hastily, she reached out. As soon as her fingertips had brushed the door, it disappeared, like a blink, and was replaced by...Keero?

Dream-fueled confusion morphed into remembrance. She recalled the moment all too well. How could she ever forget? His knee bent, the stubble on his chin angled towards her. The piece, the blade, in all its brilliant curiosity. And he was holding it out for HER. She looked back at her father across the dusty road, remembering his orders. He shook his head slowly, the sight of his dark eyes screamed at her with the stern line of his lips. Obedience, never wavering from his commands. But...

She couldn’t resist.

Keero’s hands held the blade out like an offering, laying across his palms. She reached out, glided her fingertips along the tip of the decorated hilt, then gently, cautiously, closed her fingers around it. They brushed his hands. She vaguely observed the calluses and rough skin of his hands.

When she finally lifted the dagger, she hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. The weight of the blade was that of total respect. She realized immediately, it was the same respect given to this man kneeling in front of her. The way people gave him space, watching concernedly but curiously from down the road. They didn’t dare touch, but admired, and feared, from a distance. She imagined all the places the weapon had been. All the wonders it had seen. The horror it had administered.

The steel, so sharp and brilliantly clean, glinted under the bright sun. When she tilted it right, she saw her own reflection, stretched across the shaped blade. Transfixed by the piece, she finally lifted her gaze up to the Hunter still kneeling. As he was observing her, a faint smile had shaped his lips. She knew in that moment, she didn’t want to let go of it. She wanted to keep the blade in her hand, and wanted to see that smile on that face.

The Hunter tilted his head up, seeing something behind her, then focused his view back down at her. He reached forward one open palm. Just as she was, begrudgingly, about to place the dagger in his hand, she heard the rough footsteps of the person the Hunter must have seen. She turned around just in time to see the blur of her fathers fist come down across the side of her head. She was sent flying across the dirt. When she hit the ground, she was plunged into endless water strongly pulling her down to its darker depths.

She was no longer Alana. No longer a child. Her red cloak and dress swirled around her, suspended in blue. She twisted around, struggling to find her bearings. Which was up? Which was down? Where was the sun...the water was so dark. Ambie, flicking her tail, glided over to her from shadowy water. Red reached out a bare hand and Ambie met it with one of her own. Ambie’s other hand gripped the back of Red’s hood and pulled their lips together. Suspended in water, their bodies drifting, Red kissed her so deeply.

The sharp screech of a sword being slid from its sheath rang clearly through the dark waters. She pulled away from the Mer’s lips to see Solar...his hair was literally fire. And he was holding a sword over his head pumping flames from its own steel like it was made of sparks. She watched the fire jump off the steel and charge towards her in a rolling tumbling column. She looked back at Ambie but was alone. Solar had disappeared as well. The column of flames surrounded her, circling her like a group of bandits. It ran around her over and over, closing the space. Water and fire, swarming around her, tighter...tighter...breath...she couldn’t...

***

Red opened her eyes to the trees above her swaying their leaves softly. The sun was barely above the horizon, somewhere in the distance. The sunrise was casting an array of colors across the clouds she could see peeking through the branches. A reflexive gasp wrenched air down into her lungs. She had been holding her breath in her sleep again. For how long? What else had she done? Had anybody heard her say anything?

Slowly, cautiously, she leaned forward, still breathing fast. She’d slept leaning against a massive tree trunk, holding her sword in her bare right hand. She didn’t want to be anything other than ready for any kind of sneak attack. She scanned the sleeping group, still feeling the hesitation of sleeping around strangers. Not finding any danger, she let her breath steadily slow itself, and leaned back against the tree. She watched the clouds change color while the sun finished rising and the creatures of the forest awoke around her.

Once everyone else was awake, she stood and began brushing off her clothes and gathering her things. She heard the others start some conversation but didn’t pay attention. It just sounded like more bantering. Basic human interaction. Nothing she was interested in. Still, Ambie’s remark to the Immortal made Red breath out sharply to stifle a short laugh. She admired how quickly Ambie had caught on to the dynamic of the group, though she herself found that a simple task. Hearing Ambie’s voice reminded Red of the dream she’d had, and she brushed her own exposed lips with her fingertips. “...RED gave us that insurance...no offense.”
Red just hummed softly in response. “Mmm.”

“If you want to get into the Risen city, you’re going to need a plan. The Risemen hate unregistered mages.”

Red turned towards the group, gloved, covered, and cloaked. “If you need to get into the Risen city without dealing with the guards, I may be able to help.”

[Scottie]

The morning sun was gently warming the air, forcing the Wanderer to relax her shoulders. No longer was she tensed up into a tight ball to keep herself warm, the sun was happily gifting her warmth. A soft smile had drifted itself onto her lips and her frown had been reduced to a faint crease in her forehead. For the briefest of moments, she looked her true age. She actually looked peaceful. Then he spoke.

Does he every shut up?

Her right eye snapped open to the Immortal. Sitting loftily on top of their baggage...where he had demanded to be sat last night. She presumed that it was so he could be taller than them all for once. Already the jesting began and the wanderer pressed a rough palm into the soil. Pushing herself to sitting cross legged and watching the rest of the group rise slowly. Solar did have a point. The Immortal probably spent the evening sleeping or gazing lovingly at his reflection in whatever reflective surface he could find.

Worn teeth gritted hard against each other as the immortal pulled her up on not giving her full name. A glare was thrown at the head as she planned how she could make the last leg of their journey a horrible one for him. A moment of silence passed over her until the joke that Solar made landed. The snort of laughter that left her body was a disgusting noise, it soon transcended into a dirty cackle at the immortals expense. “He...He does have a point.” She gave the younger mage a quick nod in respect to his well timed joke on the immortal.


Before her cracked lips could open again to answer the question thrown at the group by the petulant loaf, Red spoke. The Wanderer raised an eyebrow and scanned over the woman before responding. “As long as it doesn’t involve any runes.” She said bluntly. “I presume that if the Risemen hate unregistered mages, they have a way of at least detecting mages if they use any runes to gain entry to their city...Am I correct?” Her question was directed at the loaf who seemed to be trying to make himself look taller by stretching his chin out.

“We do not need any more fights or any more weakness caused by using any runes. We need everyone at full health...We should just disguise ourselves better and walk in.” The wanderer chuckled lightly at the plain and simple plan but sometimes that was the best one.