The Cruelty of Magic, page 5
“I want the credit for this one boys,” yelled a low-pitch and raspy voice. “If they got a bounty on ‘em, I’ll be getting a promotion for hanging ‘em.”
The sound of a great waterfall filled the air as the two continued dancing through the sewers. Varix swerved through unnecessary tunnel paths while intentionally splashing the sewer waters where the chambers would split into multiple directions, trying to misdirect the guards.
As the waterfall grew closer, Varus tried to whisper over their sewer stepping to his father, trying not to alarm the guards. “Father, you can’t,” but his voice fell on empty air beneath the continued trouncing of the guards and his own footfall.
Varix could hear the waterfall’s crashing grow closer and closer as they approached the valve, but then he started to slow down. He slowly stepped forward to a wide opening with piercing light hammering down onto the waters before him. The great height of the sewer valve bled into Uvanion’s Bed, a river named after the Lord of Water.
As Varix gazed into the rising sun slicing the sky with a slash of red, he pondered the height of the drop. “Must be over 100 feet,” he thought to himself as his son caught up.
“You can’t swim!” Varus was trying to whisper but his anger grew during the sprint out of the sewers, turning the whisper into a volumed condemnation. “How many have we heard of surviving this fall?”
Varix grinned at his son. “Those who’d make this jump don’t do it to come back telling stories, now do they?”
Varus grew increasingly frustrated. “Is there no other passage?”
His father turned back to the mystifying sunset and inched closer to the edge of the fall. Varix peered down into the depths of the river bed and could see pointed rocks piercing the waters and awaiting the misstep of escapees hoping to make a safe landing.
The clamoring of the guards grew louder once more and it became clear that the guards were on their heels. “We’ve nowhere else to go, son. Look at the rocks below and do your best to avoid them. If you take a quick look you’ll see there are less of them to the left.”
“How do I save you if you can’t swim? What if I’m hurt and it’s too hard to pull you to shore?” Varus’s voice was becoming panicked and riddled with anxiety.
Then, a guard's voice rose from the edge of their tunnel. They’d been found.
“Go on then, lads. Jump,” the raspy voice laughed. “I’ll just collect your bodies from the pool below. Your bounties probably don’t care much if you’re livin’ or dead.”
Varix grew impatient with his son. “I need you to jump!” Meanwhile, the guards rounded the corner and met eyes with Varix. Immediately, he grabbed hold of his son and threw him towards the water, as far left as he could.
“Jump then,” the guard roared behind Varix as he struggled to gather his footing after barreling his son into the river. “I said jump!”
But then, Varix felt something pierce his left leg in an instant. He felt a small jolt through his skin as he fell to the ground, his hands and knees falling into the water. He looked to his leg and saw a short spear had gone clean through. He could not stand as the pain grew intolerable and fear overtook him. His son was at the bottom of the river bed and now he could not make the jump.
“Go on then,” the group of three guards cackled at Varix. “Jump.”
The three men walked over towards Varix and began to kick him towards the edge. Varix took one last look over the ledge before he heard one final word from the raspy guard. “I’d rather carry him back dead from the water. At least then we won’t be carrying him all through these sewers.”
Finally, a great kick to the ribs sent Varix flying down into the depths of the water.
In Uvanion’s Bed, Varus fought to climb back to the surface of the river and was deeply cut on his side from a sharp rock. While it hurt to swim, he managed to get back to shore. Varus turned back and looked for his father at the edge of the release valve…and that’s when he saw Varix falling into the depths of the riverbed.
Varus could tell he did not jump of his own free will and knew that something horrible had happened to his father. The boy rushed back into the water as the pain from his side all but disappeared. He voraciously swam to the edge of the basin where he thought his father would have fallen. The boy dove down into the water searching for his father, but all he found was a snapped spear shaft.
“Father!’ Varus began to cry out searching for Varix. He dived once more into the depths and this time swam all the way to the bottom of the riverbed. He held himself at the bottom of the river searching in all of the dark directions he could. Mustering each fighting breath, Varus lingered in the depths and would then race back to the surface of the river taking a large gulp of breath before returning to the dark waters.
Varus’ fear overtook him and his breaths became more strained as he cried out looking for his father, and then he began to lose his swimming strength. It became harder to hold himself afloat and his strained cries were forcing water into his lungs.
At that moment, Varus knew he had to get out of the water before he either drowned or lingered too long for the guards to come. His exhaustion was taking over and the strength to paddle was becoming difficult. The fall from the valve hurt and the possible loss of his father was unbearable. He painfully stroked until he reached the shore of the river and cast himself onto the ground. He coughed a bloody cough filled with water and struggled to regain his strength enough to stand. Once he did, he took one final look at the river and realized he still could not see his father.
But then, Varus looked down shore and saw a body beating against the edge of calmer waters, and the body wasn’t moving.
Chapter four
Flashback: Before the Storm
"If the runic fails to bring her to me, I'll tear down the city without her." – Harigamun, Thoughts of War
***
Arimeus rushed through the streets of Runefall to the council meeting meant to determine the fate of a young woman. As Arimeus passed scrambling merchants on the street, each of them in a state of panic, he wondered whether or not the ruling council of the city had the right to decide this young woman’s fate, especially with Harigamun’s army surrounding the hidden city.
The thought of the warlord surrounding the city hadn’t been enough to stagger Arimeus’s own hopes, however the warlord had recently laid a watchful eye on the fixed position of the hidden city – Runefall. Arimeus knew the city could stay safe behind its great runwall – The Wall Of Turmin – hidden from the prying eyes of the Warlord through rune magic. But Arimeus found himself wondering if they were truly hidden just because the warlord could not see them.
As he ascended the steps to the grand stone halls of The Council Chamber, Arimeus gave deep thought and regret to the choices that had been made of late, and of many years ago on behalf of the city. In particular, considering the warlord’s army at the gate, Arimeus doubted whether or not Runefall should have taken all of those children all of those years ago – even if it were a god that told them to do it.
Every child who practiced rune magic was taken, along with others who were destined to be the highest skilled practitioners from other forms of magic: Elemental, Mystic, and Summoning. Only one child was taken from the other magical tribes at the behest of Salaril, the rune god, which Arimeus long doubted.
“To prevent war,” the god told Tir, Runefall’s divine scribe. Tir shared the details with each of the council members over nineteen years ago. Arimeus’s doubt only grew over the years, but he could not stop the city from taking all of those children.
“Perhaps we should have given people more of a choice,” he thought. “Was it a mistake to centralize the power of magic? Did we need to trick the rest of the cities and towns into allowing us to keep all of the books and scrolls? Did we have the authority to make these decisions for the rest of Kaiya?”
Years of searching by the Warlord of Kaiya, Harigamun, led the warlord’s fearsome army to Runefall due to the leaked word of one of the few merchants allowed to enter and leave the city. Arimeus heard of the merchant’s discovery by the warlord, but there was nothing to be done. The merchant was likely dead, or perhaps worse by the time the news reached him. The Chief Runic, Arimeus, considered whether or not it was folly to think they could remain hidden from the rest of the world.
“Was this inevitable?” Arimeus thought, ascending the last of the many stairs before him, dreading the upcoming council meeting.
Arimeus entered the chamber and took his seat, finding that all the other members of the council had already arrived. He gazed slowly across the stone slab carved into a table by great dwarven smiths decades ago. It served as a remnant of time passed; before the city and all men turned against dwarves, before Runefall cut itself off from the rest of the world at the word of a god, and long before Arimeus knew where his own surprising role in the war facing them would be.
“We cannot allow the girl to leave,” said Chief Runic, Arimeus.
Arimeus often exuded confidence. He could have wanted more in physical stature, for he was smaller than most of his counterparts, but his reputation within the city commanded order when he spoke. Well-fit and worn from battle-hardened experience, the Chief Runic lacked neither the capability nor the will required to act with a forceful hand.
“Forces have gathered to their full purpose to march upon the city, and you would have us risk complete discovery?” Arimeus asked the council, racked with uneasiness.
“You would risk the end of an age, then?” Barigund retorted.
The stoic Barigund served as Head of the Runic Council and Commander of Runefall. His raised voice spoke as if commanding the great alabaster hall before him. His voice seemed to grip the very stone from the foundations of the city, causing weakness and worry to those who might hear him. Some chamber servants present briefly considered the thought that the Commander even caused fear to the walls themselves as jaws chittered following his question.
“The girl’s name appeared on a carved stone. She must answer the call,” Barigund said. “An age, our lives and the lives of those who call Runefall home; they would depend on us heeding this call and yet here you stand cowering behind the Wall of Turmin.”
Barigund Half-Hammer, who sat at the head of the Council Chamber, solemnly flapped his darkened garb which stood out from the white shimmering cloth of his counterparts. A pronounced beard dragged against the stone of his desk, his hair ebbing and flowing as his gaze looked to the gathered Lords, each of them silently cowering.
“Perhaps the walls have been too kind to us over the years, Arimeus,” said Premus Hydik, the Historic Librarian and Spell Keep of Runefall. Premus had long cautioned the headwinds to befall their great city from cowering and hiding in the shadow of Turmin’s wall, and always made sure to stand against Arimeus. The Head Librarian also always had a scroll, a book, or a journal. Sometimes Premus would carry all three, such as this day.
“Perhaps, we put these spells to use and meet them openly.” Premus’s long lashes flashed his silver eye, accompanied by a coy smile meant to dismiss the fears of Arimeus.
“Perhaps you’ve spent too long in the study,” Arimeus rejected. “Perhaps, in your studies, you’ve forgotten the toll we must pay for the practice of magic.”
Arimeus knew the cost of magic well. The Chief Runic had paid magic’s price time after time and felt a stinging loss that could never be repaired each time. Not even with all the spells in Premus’s library could the wounds of Arimeus be healed.
“I train them. I see them. The fear in the hearts of soldiers who loathe the thought of having to exact a true price to continue breathing. PERHAPS YOU’VE----” Arimeus rose from his seat with a growing roar quickly silenced by the commander.
“Enough!” The room echoed with the voice of Barigund quaking in the Council Chamber. “It will be put to a vote. If needed, I will cast mine ballot, unless you lot settle it amongst yourselves.”
The chamber grew silent.
“The young woman Kyra has been called forth. Her name appeared upon the stone.” Barigund stood to address the council with his brown mane flowing over the chest of his garb.
The council members grew restless. Eight of them sat tightly bound between fear and fury as they awaited the results of the vote.
“As you well know, this moment only happens once in an age,” Barigun addressed the chamber. “So the stories say…The story upon the stone tells of a pilgrimage to the far east to the Stained Cathedral. This is where Kyra must go, though we know not to what end.”
Barigund sighed and reclaimed his seat as his long brown and gray beard caressed the top of his oaken desk before the room, gazing out to his fellow council members sitting below him around the rune carved circle of adamantite. For a brief moment, staring at the table, he felt regret for the treatment of the dwarves. Then, the City Commander took a short moment, lasting only seconds, to admire the stone native only to the southern Dwarves. He knew he’d made the wrong choice then, and hoped he wasn’t making the wrong choice at this moment.
“We know not what fell deeds await the girl’s journey, as we no longer know a great many things due to our isolation, but we do know that we risk all of the world if we ignore the prophecy,” the commander explained with a disheartened breath. “Tribes of magic have launched their offensive as rumors of our location have spread. The Wall of Turmin hides us from sight, but not fully from discovery. The choice is laid before you, the Council of Runefall.”
Braigund looked to the host of lords before him with a cracked hope, yearning for the right choice to be made. Though, he was unsure what the right choice was.
“Open the gates for Kyra to leave and risk open war, or keep the seals of our wall closed tight,” the commander posited. “Choose to share nothing with the young woman and she will remain here as we all watch our age diminish and fade into yet another unwritten legend of the past.”
Arimeus jolted up from his seat, nearly smashing his legs against the adamantite stone table.
“There is still yet time, time enough to find another way to appease the foretelling of a doomed age,” Arimeus said.
The Chief Runic cast his vote to stay hidden., eyeing a smiling Premus as he walked over to the ballot box placed before Barigund.
Next, Turmin, immovable and stoic, peered at his fellow council members from his seat. With short gray hair and muscles abound from a lifetime of builder works, the architect trudged to the head of the table near Barigund and cast his vote into the oaken ballot hold.
Turmin also voted to remain behind his thick walls built all those years ago. His faith in its capacity to protect the city was as immovable as he was. All of those children capable of using rune magic, along with Armeus and Turmin, toiled away for months on end sealing the city of Runefall behind an invisible force. Arimeus and Turmin added other forms of protection against siege and allotted for hidden exits. Alas, to the regret of both the Architect of Runefall and its Chief Runic, the exits had a limited capability. Kyra would not be able to stay unseen by the warlord for long.
Premus smirked at Arimeus as the librarian turned to Barigund. Making no move to stand from his seat, Premus casted his vote to open the gates by sending his ballot through the air with the use of a rune written onto the ballet. A small surrender of his ability to move for mere seconds to float a piece of paper seemed an unnecessary and childish option to Arimeus, but it seemed all too appropriate for Premus.
“What is the cost for such a lowly spell then, Premus?” Arimeus snarled at the careless use of magic.
“Fear not for my safety, my friend,” returned Premus. “Such a small spell commands but a small price in order to use. Much like the decision to do a grander good rather than cling to one’s own thoughts of safekeeping behind these bonds of stone. Nay, we need not stay here, much like we needn’t fear the use of rune magic against those who mean to rid the world of our culture, our knowledge…our skill,” he hissed at the last words.
As Premus finished his retort towards his counterpart, Arimeus noticed a small cut, no larger than a thin paper-cut, slightly beneath Primus’s fingernail.
“Had that cut been there?” Arimeus said, recounting his past struggles with Premus.
“Who knows,” Premus said. “I’m a withered man with old spells, much like yourself. Perhaps I gave up more than a moment of movement for the ballot. Perhaps there are always unforeseen circumstances and costs to our actions. What do you think the cost of hiding will be?”
Arimeus considered the words of Premus, recalling their many years in competition. Was Premus merely standing in opposition, as the Head Librarian often did, out of principle to defy Arimeus, or was he truly convinced of his position?
Decades ago, Premus and Arimeus served among the highest-ranking officers in the Runic Army – the militaristic force of Runefall. Since the armies of magical tribes only consisted of a few officers capable of wielding magic, the ranks were thin but ruthless. Each caster mastered a different aspect of their studies and went on to prove that they should lead within the military force. Premus proved himself exceptional at learning the many different ways of rune magic, but was never able to fully master them. Thus, Premus challenged Arimeus constantly trying to showcase his own value.
Arimeus, however, mastered the transportive arts of rune magic, though he mostly refused to use any form of rune magic these days. Back then, before Runefall was what it has become, Arimeus led the Runic Army in battle after battle. The Chief Runic’s ability to instantly close gaps, gaps which the enemy could never see coming, enabled Arimeus to become a master of strategy.
Even so, Arimeus always tended to think of the well-being of the soldier standing in front of him, rather than the mission. The Chief Runic’s offensive strategies and transportive skill was always more focused on sustaining the lives of his own soldiers, rather than ending the lives of his enemies. This particular affinity Arimeus held for his soldiers led Barigund to assign Premus to the Library as Keeper of Spells, and Arimeus to become Chief Runic. This decision seemed as a slight to Premus and, while cooperative, the Keeper of Spells never failed to grieve in the shadow of Arimeus, just as the librarian intended to continue doing during this council meeting. Arimeus considered that might be what was happening, and he rested on the hope of decisions from the remaining council members.
