Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

Chapter 87: Of Ice and Fire

Rowan could see Halen Ashworth getting restless. She scored the next runes in and activated them and then stood, spinning a throwing knife in her hand and hooking its ringed handle through each finger as it rotated. Her eyes jumped up to the palace balcony, which now stood empty, as if the spectators realised they were spotted. Portendorfer's next streak of flames scorched the surface of the barrier. Rowan clapped his hands, crashing burst magic against it. The red rune pushed the edges aside, forcing the defect to grow again.

"Go," he said. Ashworth gave him a startled look. "You need to look for your comrades, right?"

"You're awfully chilled about this fiasco," she said in a sour voice. Rowan shrugged.

"We do what we can. So you do your bit."

She didn't speak any more. With a curt nod, she sprinted forward, her plain black cloak billowing behind her. The clink of the knives at her belt marked each step but that soon got drowned in the cacophony of warfare around. The screams and shouts increased in urgency and volume. Rowan stood up, magic ready.

"We surrender!" called out the soldiers. The remains of the unscorched men who had fought at the demands of Pollin lay their weapons on the floor, their ash-streaked features fatigued and terrified. "Please, Mage Portendorfer! Spare us!"

Portendorfer didn't bat an eyelid and raised his hands.

"Wait!" said Rowan. Portendorfer clapped his hands together as if he hadn't spoken. Magic crackled on his fingertips and the energy exploded outwards. Rowan clapped his hands and, with all his might, summoned a thick wall of sand from beneath. The ground rumbled. A storm of sand tore through the cracks between the paved stones, rushing up in a torrent, striking the flames metres before the surrendered soldiers. There was a hiss and the nose-curling scent of burnt hair. When the flames dissipated, a wall of glass remained, its surface rough and tortuous, mimicking the flow of water, behind which the terrified faces of the men could be seen.

"You want to fight me, Woodbead?" Portendorfer said, his voice light but the murderous intent in his eyes evident. Rowan shook his head.

"I won't win and you know that. No, it's these--" He was cut off. He threw out a handful of flames, scorching the side of a monster that hurtled out of one of the fallen buildings. The soldiers shouted in alarm. A horde of those deformed creations of Seiren Nithercott stampeded over, chattering away, their sinewy muscles rippling with every movement.

"I didn't kill enough of you guys in Acrise!" Portendorfer exclaimed, grinning again, his attention distracted as Rowan had hoped.

Rowan gestured at the men to escape. A few ran, but most picked up their weapons again, grim determination on their soot-dirtied faces.

"What are you doing? Get out of here!" he shouted. Portendorfer was too enthralled in setting the creatures alight to sense what went on behind him. He cackled aloud as the monsters screamed, their flesh bubbling away with his flash magic. He managed to corner them against a three-storey brick wall and settled to reduce them to ashes them one by one.

"If we run, who'll protect the people?" said one soldier.

"You're way out of your depth here. Get out whilst you still can!" Rowan couldn't believe his ears.

"We're soldiers, Mage Woodbead. Our jobs are to protect," said another, although his lips were pale and the gun shook in his hands. "I'll never be able to look at my wife in the face if I cowered now."

"You'll never look at your wife at all if you get killed here," muttered another one, but he squared his shoulders. "But you're right. We aren't cowards. Not like King Pollin or the king's mages. They abandoned us when we needed them the most."