click here to read part one of this story
Summer was bright and hot and the Tower was in full swing. New recruits hung around the courtyard and older members lulled about, egging them on. Summer usually brought most people back to the Tower and gave the Rune-crafters a brief respite before continuing on their missions.
Simon watched this organized chaos from afar, a thoughtful look on his face. There was a commanding aura about him, a larger-than-life attitude. A general overlooking his soldiers. Upon noticing him watching over them, several of the members opted for more flashy or “impressive” feats during practice.
Simon was very selective in who he taught. Being a Rune-master busied his schedule; as such, only a select few were chosen to his students. I was one of the few he picked: a feat I’m still questioning.
I lingered on the side, watching him for a moment longer. My heart a regretful mass. The sunlight streamed down from a window, casting him in an ethereal glow. Simon spoke, eyes still on the other Rune-crafters.
“You can stop watching me now, Anthony, I know you’re there.” The words sounded like a reprimand, but I could hear the laughter in his voice.
I approached him with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sir. I just… Well, I had a question before I left.”
Simon turned. “Reading from Loughty again?”
I nodded and his smile turned wistful.
“A classic. What a brilliant mind, that woman was.”
“I agree, sir,” I replied. Proffering the book in my hand, I said “I’m trying to get prepared for my travels and found a Rune that’s not well explained. I was hoping you could help?”
“What is it?”
Simon glanced down at the book, clearly interested. When he saw the Rune, he scoffed.
I could understand that reaction: the Rune itself looked rather dire, a tombstone with an eye centered on it. Someone had scratched out its name with black ink.
If the drawing and Simon’s reaction were anything to go by, I figured it couldn’t be anything good. The descriptive text was vague — as if Loughty didn’t want to draw attention to it.
“What…”
I trailed off, waiting for him to continue.
“Promise me you’ll never use that Rune,” Simon asked, voice distant.
“Sir?”
“Anthony. Promise.” Simon repeated.
I let out a hesitant breath before agreeing. He eyed me once more, his characteristic smile solemn.
“That is a death Rune.” He paused, as if debating how much to explain. “It drains life from its user, destroying the Rune-crafter and any around them.”
I gasped.
“Why haven’t we heard of it?”
“It’s not something we ever expect you to use,” he explained. “I honestly thought we’d removed mentions of it from that book.”
His eyes took on that distant look again before he snapped himself out of it.
“Enough talk of that!” Simon clapped a hand onto my shoulder and gestured over to the trainees. “I never tire of watching the new recruits train. Are you ready for your trip?”
I let the conversation slide back into more comfortable territory. “Absolutely. I’ve been preparing Runes and studying Loughty. I’ll be ready.”
I had been studying under Simon for a few years at that point. We were very familiar with each other. There was a slight nervousness about leaving his guidance to set out on my own.
“Excellent, excellent,” Simon said with a firm smile. “Say… Why don’t you take that book with you?”
I startled at that, jerking my head toward him. “But…” I sputtered, “but I couldn’t.”
“Oh please, we have more than one copy. I’m sure you’ll return it in pristine condition.”
“Thank you…” The faith he had in me made me flush. “I’ll take good care of it.”
“I know you will. Things are changing in the world, Anthony. People are finding less need for Rune-crafters. Be careful out there.”
“I will,” I promised, because what more could I do?
“I just wish there was a way to safeguard your — everyone’s — future.”
“You’ll find a way,” I responded and I fully believed that. There was no one smarter than Simon.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, son.”
I saw that as a dismissal and took my leave.
That was the last time I saw Simon, or any Rune-crafter. When I returned, the Tower lay in ruin and everybody was gone.
I still had the book in my bag. I hadn’t opened it in over a year since I’d first returned to the empty Tower. The memories of what it represented and what had come to pass haunted me. I’d felt a gaping hole in my heart since that moment, one that never filled.
That was also the last time I’d discussed Rune-crafting before Alice. Fitting that the topic was about a death Rune.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” I dragged myself back into the present. If there was a chance —however slim — that it might actually be Simon, I would not waste this opportunity.
Alice started, a little jump to her step. Eager.
“Thank you!” She proclaimed with a smile to light the sun. I gave her a half-hearted grin.
“Let me finish my Runes and then I’ll be off.”
She nodded and let me be. I took a deep breath as a little spark grew in my chest: something akin to hope.
I had grown so used to dampened feelings of loathing and loneliness that I hadn’t let myself feel anything else. This spark was dangerous.
If nothing else, I could get Rune-aper. Possibly some answers. It was an insatiable hunger that I couldn’t fill.
I left Alice a few hours later, my bag restocked with several useful Runes. The prison itself was on a segregated island, with boats being the only method of transport. I retrieved the travel Rune from my bag and ran my thumb over the bird.
Placement Runes weren’t exactly necessary for teleporting over distances. They helped focus the location and alleviated some of the negative effects associated with it. I braced myself, preparing for the inevitable.
I focused inward, feeling the pull and movement of the air around me. That whirring sound started again.
I aimed for the prison yard. I hadn’t been there before, but it appeared to be the largest part of the prison. I’d gone over schematics for the place long ago and drew my point of reference from there.
It was a larger jump in distance than the previous one today — and there wasn’t a placement Rune — so it would be harder on my body.
I blinked, and the scenery around me evaporated. Within a moment, I was in the prison yard.
I let out a gasp of breath, shaking and volatile. My vision blacked and I sank to my knees. I quickly dragged myself over to an unused corner and breathed out ragged gasps. I concentrated on the rhythm and flow, until I had calmed down and the black splotches faded from my vision.
I took one last steadying breath and rose to my feet. My knees were still shaky; it wouldn’t be unbearable now. If only healing Runes worked on this kind of pain.
I activated the invisibility Rune and took a deep breath. My eyes burned at the excessive use of magic. Invisibility was especially volatile.
There were a few guards milling about, wearing traditional Contester garb: a slouch hat, a gray wool shell jacket, and blue trousers. They eyed the prisoners with contempt and disgust.
These prisoners were primarily Alliance soldiers. I eyed them, searching. Yes… There was a distinct feel of magic in this prison, almost hidden under the surface. Someone went through great lengths to hide this signature of magic.
Simon had a very distinct face. A long nose, bright silver-green eyes. Longer blond hair. There wasn’t any sign of him here.
I ventured deeper into the prison in the hopes that he would be there. I didn’t want to stay in one place for too long. Invisibility isn’t perfect; a practiced eye could pick up how the air around me constantly corrected itself.
Deeper inside the building, I noticed a group standing off to one side, chatting. I looked at each of their faces and froze.
There he was: Simon Phillips in the flesh. I had to calm the instinct to reach out, to have him assure me that everything would be okay. I cut my cry off with a choking sound and looked around. Thankfully no one had heard my minor meltdown.
That’s how a child would behave.
There were dozens of questions that popped into my head: how had he ended up in a Contester prison? Why hadn’t he escaped? What of the other Rune-crafters? Most importantly, what happened in the Tower?
I gazed at Simon a little more intently. There was something different about him. It wasn’t in his physical appearance — that was unscathed — but rather in the way he carried himself. His shoulders slouched over in the effort to make himself smaller, his eyes slightly downcast.
His face was stained with mud. When he talked, I noticed a few missing teeth. One of the guys he was with shoved him, but he made no effort to acknowledge the jab. A vacancy had overtaken his eyes.
An unfamiliar feeling of confusion and anger mixed together. Where was the proud and formidable Simon? Why was he hiding in a remote prison? There was no doubt in my mind that Simon could escape if he wanted to.
There was also… hurt.
Why hadn’t Simon looked for me? Had I not been important enough to him? He had enough time for a wife. I thought we had a special bond. Tears I didn’t know I still possessed threatened to tear me apart, but I held them in.
Answers first, tears later. I hadn’t gotten this far on my own to have this minor setback slow me.
Simon suddenly broke off from the group, to make his way down the hall. I shook my head and followed close behind, careful to step quiet on my feet. He walked with a limp that favored his right leg. His gaze remained fixed on the floor as he walked. Simon rounded a corner and opened a door. I frowned.
The door closed and I stared where he entered.
I beat back the tears, hurt, anger, confusion, and sorrow. I bottled that, stuffing it deep within. With a shaky breath, I opened the door and entered.
Almost immediately I was tackled to the ground, my bag spilling its contents on the floor. Cursing, I threw a disoriented punch which completely missed its mark.
Simon grappled me and pressed his knee into my throat. The invisibility Rune deactivated, and he flinched backwards when he saw my face.
“Anthony?”
There was a mixture of joy and fear in his voice. An odd combination.
“Simon,” I said slowly. I almost felt myself slipping into the role of student again before catching myself. That was no longer.
I let out a slow breath. Answers first.
“What’s going on here? Why are you in a prison?”
None of this made sense.
Simon couldn’t take his eyes off me — as if he thought I were some ghost. He scanned me from head to toe. “You’re… you’re really here. Alive.”
“Simon.” I said, letting some of the frustration and repressed sadness enter my voice. “What happened? Why are you here?”
My voice broke on that last word. There was a guilt to his expression. I looked into his eyes, was stunned at the sorrow and hurt held within. This wasn’t the same man I’d left two years ago.
“It… it was safest for me here.” Simon said. I caught a drugged slowness in his voice. “Nobody would find me.”
“I looked for you,” I wanted to scream at him. My eyes burned; tears blurred my vision. I saw no point in holding those back anymore. “I wanted — I just — why didn’t you look for me?”
He reached a hand forward before stopping himself, letting it drop to his side. I hated how much comfort I still drew from his presence. It was as if the past year of mourning and loathing could be erased, simple as that.
“It was safest for you.” Guilt clouded his features even further, and that made my rage and hurt heighten.
“Why couldn’t I decide what’s safe for me?” I hissed. “I’ve spent the past year searching for other Rune-crafters and have found none. And then I find out you’ve been hiding in a remote prison this whole time. What happened to the great Rune-master, who wasn’t afraid of any challenge?”
Simon took this verbal thrashing with the look of a broken man. It was as if each word cut into him deeper, a visceral slash. I was left huffing for breath but his demeanor took the wind out of my sails.
He didn’t say anything to defend himself. He accepted it. That wasn’t like the man I knew.
So I asked once more: “What happened?”
It was a million questions compounded into two words. What happened to the Tower? What happened to the other Rune-crafters? What happened to you?
Simon heaved out a breath, slow and steady. “There isn’t a lot I can say or do to excuse my actions. Perhaps I should’ve searched for you. I knew you weren’t at the Tower when it fell, yet I decided that my presence would only cause you greater harm.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew my emotions were an open book to Simon so I did little to hide them.
“You deserve answers, though.” Simon pressed his palm on his forehead. “About a year ago, I summoned every Rune-crafter to the Tower for peace talks. There was talks of installing Rune-crafters into government agencies and leaderships around the world to advocate for our rights.”
I was startled. Rune-crafters weren’t universally hated, but they weren’t adored either. There was increasing discourse among world leaders regarding the power Rune-crafters wielded. Some viewed such power as unnatural and dangerous while others a trade secret to use to their advantage. It was a closely guarded secret, with only a select few “gifted” people able to fully harness their power. The Tower sought to act as a neutral mediator between conflicts, something controversial even among its own members.
“I thought it was too good an offer to turn down. This country offered us freedom to cross borders, practice our art, and continue to go about our business.” Simon sighed. “What a fool I was.”
I drew in a deep breath. It was a good offer. Almost too good.
Already, in the past few years of going on missions, I’d encountered local resistance to my efforts. It ranged from indifference to outright hatred. Just before returning to the ruined Tower, I narrowly escaped with my life after a disastrous miscommunication regarding the local wildlife. My personal notebook was filled with safe routes for Rune-crafters everywhere.
The fact that I went on these trips to gather intel for my maps did me little favor. Trust was hard to come by.
A thought occurred to me then. “I never received a summons.”
Simon nodded. “Yes… you were on your first big assignment abroad. I didn’t want to spoil it by requesting you to come back early. I figured — I figured that I would fill you in upon returning with hopefully good news.”
I sank down onto the floor, processing everything. There was still some small part of me that wished this to be a joke… that wanted the mentor I’d come to love. The one who stood by and reassured me.
That Simon was gone.
“That was the best decision I’d ever made.” Simon said, “You were spared those horrors.”
“Simon.” I knew what was coming but I needed to hear it. “What happened at the Tower?”
