Chapter 3

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When Kesmet woke, she was met by moonlight. The soft rays bathed her room in an otherworldly glow but she was comforted by it. She dressed leisurely in casual nightwear and left her room to find Loben. As always during such times in the evening, the corridors of the Hiloman Rune Tower were lighted with glowing orbs, suspended by magic near the vaulted ceiling. Their yellow light flickered and sputtered much like that of candles, and cast ever-changing shadows on the walls and marbled floor.

After traversing many halls and climbing several stairways, Kesmet came to the athenaeum of the High Runemaster. She knocked gently on the wide oaken doors, and entered when she heard Loben permit her.

Loben stood at a desk with his broad back to her. His glossy black tail switched slightly, a sign, Kesmet knew, that he was deep in thought. Nearing him, she saw that he had gathered her notes and rune sketches from the library and was studying them. When she stood by his side, he turned to her, as if waking from a daze.

“You really might have something here,” he said, sounding not a little awestruck.

Kesmet turned to her notes. “I hope so.” She picked up a page and perused it, stopping on a particular sketch. “If the rune here is correct, and I'm almost certain it is, than this was something we've been overlooking entirely. So much lost...”

Loben looked at her, his expression distant but inspired. “That you've been able to discover something so small and seemingly insignificant is in itself a miracle. Don't beat yourself up over the past. Just do what you can now that you have a lead.” He thought a moment, then lifted the page from her paw. “What I don't understand is how you plan to counter this runespell. Have you come up with something?”

Kesmet hesitated. “Yes...I'm afraid that was the part you might be against.” She sifted through the mess of notes and crumpled pages on the desk, plucking the one she sought from the jumble. “See here? This rune looks almost exactly like that of the plague—but it's not. There are tiny inflections in the way it was forged,” she traced a finger along the differences in the rune, “which makes them similar, but acutely different.”

Loben nodded in affirmation. “Which means their uses are entirely different.”

“Yes, but it's those tiny differences that also hid the plague rune. While we were scratching our heads trying to understand why such a harmless rune would appear on the infected and chasing an empty lead, the real rune was running rampant, killing countless people.” The fur of Kesmet's brow bunched as she frowned.

“I gathered as much from your notes. You're stalling...” Loben's eyes narrowed as he watched her.

Not meeting his gaze, Kesmet continued, “I've discovered the counter-spell. But it involves a summoning.”

“Go on.”

“To counter this rune...you need an exact mirror of the spell you want to destroy. A link is needed for this. I could think of no other way than to summon a spirit of one who had been killed by the rune.” Again she hesitated. “Particularly the soul of a magic-born. They are the only ones strong enough to provide a link.”

Many moments passed in silence. At long last, Kesmet raised meek eyes to her Runemaster.

Though he kept his eyes on the desk, his expression was stricken. He took a long breath before he spoke. “Janril. You mean to summon him.”

Kesmet had expected the response, but still she blanched. “I can think of no other.”

Loben's eyes closed; for him, her words held another meaning. He had worked closely with Kesmet for many years, had shared at least part of her pain at the loss of Janril. Though he was ten years her senior and higher in rank, he could not deny that she had nestled her way into his heart. Such feelings towards an Acolyte were forbidden; to Kesmet, he could be nothing more than her advisor and companion.

“What of the risks? You know what could happen if you mistake the wrong runes,” he did his best to keep his voice level. What will I do if something happens to you?

“There are always going to be risks. Still...I must try. All that we know could be lost if we don't reverse the rune,” she replied, some of the old fire coming back into her voice.

Loben looked down at her. He was being selfish. Despite her ties to Janril, she was looking beyond, to the larger issue. The student was indeed surpassing the teacher.

“Alright,” he said. Reason had come back to him. “When do you want to prepare?”

Kesmet's eyes were fierce with determination. “With your permission, immediately.”

* * *


Kesmet needed little preparing. She had memorized all the necessary runes and procedures, and rushed to her room to procure only her forest garb and Rune Tome.

Loben waited patiently for her outside the tower portcullis, leaning against the remnants of a stone wall and gripping his dark cloak about himself. When he caught sight of the feline he waved her over, and with a deft flick of his wrist he cast a simple spell to close the gate behind her.

She stopped in front of him, breathless. Despite the shade of night, he could still see the bright glimmer or her eyes against the silhouette of her face.

“Are you ready?” he asked, a slight tinge of worry in his voice.

“I have to be.”

As if that were all he needed to hear, Loben nodded. The white bar of fur along his face disappeared as he turned to lead the way. For such a summoning as Kesmet suggested, she would need to forge the necessary runes in the proper atmosphere. The only location suitable was the burial tombs, resting place to many a Runemaster.

Loben thought briefly of denying Kesmet entrance. As Runemaster, he had the knowledge to open the way into the tombs. But again, he chided himself. The needs of the many were far greater than his petty fantasies. Besides, he thought to himself, after all this time, she still thinks only of Janril.

They walked in silence for a time, each buried deep in their own thoughts. They followed a path of cobblestones through a dense copse of trees until they gave way into a clearing. Here, the moon seemed at its brightest. In the center of the clearing, surrounded only by long shoots of grass, was a stone structure. Loben had been here many a time before to perform sacred rituals, but for all the years Kesmet had been an Acolyte, she had never seen the place.

Nearing the stones, she could see that their grey surfaces were covered in ancient symbols. Some, she recognized, but could only guess at others. Stopping at what appeared to be the entryway, Loben turned to her. He was thankful for the dark; if the moon were any brighter, she might see the desperation plainly etched on his face.

Kesmet looked back at him expectantly. She stood an entire two heads shorter than him, but had the fire and drive expected of those twice her size. How could be not have been intrigued by her so?

“Kesmet,” he said, stopping just short of pleading, “if you don't want to do this, you must tell me now. There can be no doubt; once it's begun, there is no turning back. The summoning must be completed.”

The small feline clenched her jaws and raised her chin in resolution. “I must do this. Think of the lives that will be saved if I'm successful.”

But I don't care about them, part of his mind screamed. I want you. You must live!

His words died unspoken and he faced the stone wall. With nimble fingers, he traced unseen insignia in the air, gaining speed as he completed each one. Drawing his fingers around the last rune, the air gained a sudden thickness—a solidity. There was a pulse of blue light around the edge of the stone surface, and an audible snap as the runes did their work, then disappeared. The stone slab began to inch away from the tomb entryway, and they were met by a gust of stale air.

Kesmet watched in wonder. She may well be on her way to becoming a Runemaster, but she still found herself amazed at her mentor's capabilities.