Runes and Royalty

Trouble

  Ryn swung from her hammock, seeing the night sky light up with stars above the home tree. They had taken Eli in. The foolish girl had used up all her energy at the incident, and had rendered her in a deep sleep. Lucas helped her take Eli back to the tree, and now he was resting on the bough below her hammock. 

"Hey, Lucas," she said suddenly.

"Hmmm. . .?" Lucas looked up from the braid he was tying around using long dried leaves Rina had provided for him. 

"How do you find it here? In Sybillia?" she moved around her hammock to face him. 

Lucas stopped braiding. "It's nice. . .nicer than all the walls and the drab sightings of the kingdom," he said quite truthfully. 

"Don't you miss anything or anyone over there?" she asked quietly. 

Lucas chuckled, much to her surprise. "Mother and Father died, most of the friendly servants to me are dead or simply missing," he sighed sadly. "No, I don't miss anyone. And nobody misses me either." 

Ryn looked up at the dark greenery in front of her, the valley where shadows were forming. The sun was already sinking in a cascade of red, yellow and peach. She was silent for a minute. 

"I feel the same way." 

Lucas's eyes widened. He thought that Ryn was born from the people. Was he wrong? Or was he misinformed?

**

Ryn woke with a start. Grabbing her sword, she swung out of her hammock and undid the latch of her door. It was still dark outside, but the sky wasn’t black anymore, but a drab blue. Why did she wake up so suddenly?

She closed her door again and then dressed into a blue doublet, breeches, pants and her boots. Buckling her sword on her hip and ropes, she quietly descended down the large Home tree, careful not to release one leaf or rattle one bush. She slid to the ground silently, and surveyed the area. The coals from last night’s fire were still glowing, but nothing else disturbed the silence. The smell of dew and ashes were strong, but her quick eyes told her that the fire was put off in a hurry.

Ryn approached the fire, and hung a hand over it. Still hot, but wet. Ryn narrowed her eyes and unsheathed her sword. The blade made a silent hiss in the air, gleaming silver, ready in her hand. A quick movement on her left and she swung her sword. The figure had somehow unsheathed his own sword and parried. She slashed counter-clockwise and danced to the right, ducking as she did. The hiss of steel made for her head, and she ducked again. Seeing a wide chance, she stabbed upward, and the spurt of blood flowed down, raining on her sword, and on her. Ryn stood up in silent triumph as the man slowly kneeled down and tumbled on the ground. She removed her sword from his throat and wiped the blood off on his cloak.

“Hey, Ryn! What, in the name of Nalren, happened here?!”

Ely’s voice made her look up. Her faithful friend was still in a sleeping state: wild hair, a loose shirt and pants creased in her boots indicating that she had put them on in a hurry. More ropes followed after her. Soon the other men were already inspecting who the man was.

“Ryn! Help me!!!”

Lucas’s voice echoed around, making Ryn bolt upward the tree with a supernatural speed she didn’t know she had. His voice was restrained, and panicked. She saw Ely leap out of her nest, fully dressed, and engaged with the two figures. When she got there, Ely was on the ground, bleeding. No one was there on the branch. She thought she heard Lucas here. Where was the stupid bastard?!

Something sharp suddenly pressed against her nape, cold and threatening. Ryn knew better than to attack first. She placed her sword down, and then slowly faced the one who was holding the sword. A young man, tall and lithe held the sword in one hand, and digging another in Lucas’s chest, on his open wound, blood turning the whiteness of his shirt a deep crimson. His white skin stretching over high cheekbones and a square jaw, with glass-grey eyes that sent shivers to the spine. Ryn grit her teeth to prevent her from attacking the man, afraid to endanger Lucas too.

“So,” the man’s voice, baritone. “You are Ryn? Leader of Sybillia?”

Ryn held her head high and regally, despite the fact of the blade on her neck. “Yes, I am. What business do you have here, Sir?” She had forced cheerfulness in her voice, even though every vein in her body was pushing her to use Rune Magic. But the man was using Lucas as a shield. It would be impossible not to harm him.

“Ah, my business, you ask?” the man chuckled, a mean one. “It’s to kill this little brat.” 

A shadow crept by at the man's back, and Ryn stayed rock still and didn't let her eyes go wandering. "Conxelar o home*," she muttered under her breath. 

The man threw back his head, laughing. "Are you going to curse me until I fall from this spot?! Stupid little child! I am the best swordsman that ever lived! You cannot--" his eyes grew wide as he stopped mid-sentence. He dropped Lucas, and Eli swung in time to catch him from falling off the tree. 

Ryn concentrated on the man fiercely, the golden runic symbols floating up her head flaring brighter and brighter. Beads of sweat run down her forehead, and she tried to block the man's screams from her ears. Ice raced from the sword he was holding, screaming at how it shattered into a million diamonds. The freezing blue raced up and up on his face and spread over all his body. She stared at the man, now an ice statue as it cracked, shattering, wounding her in the process. 

Black spots dancing in her eyes, light-headedness, she began to feel weightless.

*(Conxelar o home)

pronunciation: Kon-se-lar o Ho-me