Runecarver Volume One

Chapter One

I deftly plunged the wood chisel into the door of the carriage, carving out the first rune of detonation. It was taking a great deal of effort to keep the edge steady, and the blood all over my hands wasn't helping. I took a deep breath, which sent a lance of pain through my abdomen. The entire front of my blue dress was stained crimson, its source the wooden shaft of the arrow which had miraculously pierced through the carriage's door and into me. Judging by the runes carved into it, it had been enhanced with a good bit of stopping power.

My lady-in-waiting — a short woman with auburn hair tied back in an elaborate braid — was cowering in the seat across from me, watching my work with wide eyes. The sounds of battle were muffled by the carriage, but we could hear the clash of steel and cries of pain. After I'd finished the second rune, she mustered the courage to speak. "My Lady... you're bleeding."

"I don't think it hit anything vital, Clarice. I'll make it as long as I'm not felled here," I replied through gritted teeth. I wasn't just saying it to quell her concerns; while it did hurt in that piercing and persistent way typical of stab wounds, I was confident it had avoided anything that would be immediately life-threatening. The main concern was how it affected my work. Etching runes in hardwood was already more laborious than writing them with pen and ink, and now I had to contend with the pain and my slippery hands. If only I hadn't clutched my stomach in surprise when the arrow had entered me. It was a bit late to be worried about that, however, and so I set to work finishing the inscription.

One rune to draw in mana, one to compress it, one to shape it into an explosion, and the last few to direct the explosion in such a way that the blast would be focused on the outside of the carriage. Clarice and I would probably be hit by shrapnel and splinters, but the worst of it would be experienced by whoever came knocking after the battle was over. I hoped it would be my bodyguard, but as the now-finished runes attested, I wasn't about to bet my life on that.

I let out another painful sigh and sat back in my seat. I turned to Clarice and said, "Turn away from the door, bend forward, and use your arms to cover the back of your neck." Once she had, I assumed a similar position, keeping my hand resting on the door and ready to funnel my mana.

The battle took another minute to finish. It was punctuated by a meaty sound which I didn't want to consider the origin of. Then several footfalls to the door of my carriage. A gruff voice spoke. "Do you think we got her with the arrow? It went straight through the door as the wizard said."

"Don't count on it. And be careful -- she may be the weakest Pendragon, but she's still a Pendragon," another, younger voice said. With that, the handle of the carriage began to shake. "Did she really think a locked door would stop us?"

Of course I hadn't. But it served as an excellent indication that my assailants were right where I wanted them to be. My mana flowed from my heart to my hand, then into the runes I had painstakingly carved.

There was a roar like thunder. My ears rang, and from the new pinpricks of pain on my back, I could tell I'd gotten some splinters. Ignoring them, I immediately whirled around to get a look at the situation. The entire side of the carriage had detonated, and the pieces of the three — or perhaps four, it was hard to tell — men who'd survived the battle were strewn amidst the corpses of their comrades and my guards. It seemed Clarice and I were the only survivors.

Clarice, for her part, had somehow escaped any injury. She was covered in dust and wood shrapnel, but there was not a speck of blood on her. She looked up as well, then promptly fainted at the sight of the aftermath. She slumped over peacefully in her seat, leaving me as the only conscious person around.

She was useful when it came to court politics and gossip, but that did not do much to improve my opinion of her at these times. She was a daughter of Count Rodan, one of my father's vassals, who was among the greatest swordsmen in the Kingdom. I often wondered how our mightiest warrior sired such a fragile child.