Blood Runes: Prologue
Prologue
Xar watched the battle taking place below him dispassionately. From his place atop a nearby hill, he could be instantly aware of the approach of any additional parties, but he would not interfere. He was interested to see what the outcome would be, and the situation looked like it would resolve itself shortly.
The Lord of the Nexus had been making one of his trips back into the Labyrinth to liberate, and frequently recruit to his cause, his fellows when he happened upon the fight between three Patryn men and five wolfen. One of the beasts was already dead when Xar reached his vantage point, and a second followed soon after, gutted on the blade of the oldest of the three men.
The odds no longer decisively in their favor, one of the wolfen attempted to flee. It couldn’t be allowed to fetch reinforcements, even if that weren’t its intent. The older man caught the gaze of one of the other men in a brief moment that was enough to convey his decision to follow the retreating foe. The other man gave a barely perceptible nod in acknowledgement before turning his focus back to his own opponent.
Clearly, this was a long-standing alliance and not a partnership merely of necessity. Silent communication was vitally important in an environment where any extra sound could draw dangerous attention, but Xar had rarely seen it so well developed. The ability to convey so much in such limited time took years to develop. Such veteran warriors could be very helpful to his cause, provided they survived.
Lord Xar realized the remaining two fighters were younger than he’d initially thought. Patryn children were taught to defend themselves as soon as they were able, but the fluid style and ruthlessly efficient skill of these men made it obvious that they had been fighting on the offensive side from a very young age. It was typical for Runner parents to either settle in a Squatter village to raise any children or to simply foster them to a Squatter couple and carry on without them. Children were distracting and vulnerable, and it was a rare thing indeed for a family to remain together. Xar was certain now that these men must either be related or deeply connected in some other way.
Xar could not be certain whether his presence had been noted, but either way he would not interfere in the battle unless directly asked for assistance. It was a point of pride for many warriors to finish their own battles. It was not necessarily a true weakness to ask for help if it was needed, but many of his people saw it as such. Xar was also keen to see more of their fighting skill in action. These two men were young enough to be broken of any particularly bad habits and capable of learning new skills easier than older warriors.
The first and shorter of the two, though actual height was difficult to determine from this distance, fought in the moment. His style hovered right on the edge of completely reckless; he wasn’t out to get himself killed, but he clearly wasn’t afraid to allow himself to be injured achieving his goal. He also seemed to be keeping one eye on his compatriot when it would be much more helpful focused on the fight in front of him.
The other fighter, gangly limbs and somewhat awkward movement marking him as only recently having reached his current stature, was the opposite. He kept his distance from his foe, carefully watching and planning several steps ahead. If the situation began to go badly, he never hesitated to retreat slightly and consider his options again.
Teamwork, though frequently necessary for survival, was not often a high priority for Patryns. These two young men balanced each other well, however. Xar mused absently that if he could combine the best characteristics of each, he would have an almost perfect fighter.
Both fights had come to stalemates, and Xar knew with the certainty of experience that any moment one of the four combatants would make a mistake and everything would be over in a few heartbeats. Sure enough, the lanky young man slightly misjudged his reach and overbalanced. He recovered quickly, but not before his opponent landed a slice to the back of his forearm. The runes on his arm deflected most of the blow, but the wolfen, like all the Labyrinth’s monsters, knew how to target any empty spaces in the pattern of octagonal symbols connected by smaller square sigils. Too well-trained to cry his pain out loud, he must have reacted just loudly enough for the sound to reach the other Patryn.
The shorter man tensed, eyes narrowing. He lunged headlong at his own adversary, who raised its arms to block an attack that never came because the Patryn instead dropped into a roll that brought him up underneath the wolfen’s guard. He slashed deeply across the beast’s abdomen, runes etched in the blade granting sharpness beyond that of a normal sword, to slice almost effortlessly through the beast’s thick hide and then brought the blade back again to hamstring it before barreling toward the last wolfen standing. It turned its gaze to the new threat, leaving its throat open to an attack from the lanky Patryn that all but beheaded it.
The younger man glared at his companion for a moment before turning his attention to cleaning the blood from his blade. The shorter man simply turned back around to deliver a killing blow to the other foe, still writhing on the ground. Xar took a quick glance around, confirming no incoming threats, and then headed down the hill toward the two men. He made no effort to mask his approach, in case he had not been spotted earlier, but the casual way that both men glanced up at him confirmed his suspicions that his presence was no surprise.
The tall young man, and the Lord of the Nexus could now see that he was quite tall indeed, ignored Xar and addressed his companion. Many would consider the total dismissal rude, but Xar recognized it as acknowledgement that he was not viewed as a threat. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Dean!”
“I didn’t.” Dean shrugged. He gave Xar a quick nod in greeting and then turned his attention to scanning their surroundings, no doubt looking for their comrade’s return.
“Only because I got to it first,” the lanky youth insisted with a glower. “I’m neither a weakling nor a child.”
“I know,” Dean agreed. He gave the other man a pointed look that clearly meant the discussion was over.
Dean turned once more to Xar. “We found no evidence of other wolfen in the immediate area, we haven’t much to trade, and we’re not from any Squatter encampment around here.” The young warrior had quickly and succinctly covered all the typical reasons a strange Patryn might approach another in this place. He made to turn away again, apparently convinced that the matter had been settled.
Xar was about to halt him when the third member of the group arrived back at the scene of the battle. The man used another telling glance to communicate to Dean and the other man that the final foe was dead. He looked Xar over shrewdly and began to step forward, but he was intercepted by the tall young man.
“I knew we should have scouted the area again.” The younger man’s scowl was matched by a nearly identical one on the elder’s face. “It’s unusual for a wolfen hunting party to be as small as only three, but you just couldn’t wait to throw us into another fight, could you?”
“Now isn’t the time for this.” The older man cocked his head meaningfully in Xar’s direction, but it was clear from his tone that the topic wouldn’t be warmly welcomed later either. They stared each other down for a few tense moments before Dean placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and he grudgingly stepped back. The older man continued forward until he was directly in front of Xar, though slightly out of reach, and looked at him expectantly.
Xar introduced himself and gave his usual speech about escaping the Labyrinth, finding the Nexus, learning of the Sartan’s “rehabilitation” plans, and his own plans for the future. In truth, any of these men would be helpful additions to his army. The oldest man’s face was an impassive mask, revealing nothing of what he thought of Xar’s words. The one called Dean appeared suspicious, which was not unexpected. The Patryn people did not give their trust lightly. The youngest man was enthralled, and Xar supposed that the young were often the easiest to sway to a cause, the ones who felt everything most passionately.
“The Nexus,” the boy began, and Xar expected a question about the current size of his forces or something of the like, “you said there is a library there?”
Xar was momentarily taken aback. All Patryns knew their own rune language thoroughly, but that was primarily for use in their magic; there was only one group in the Labyrinth that favored recording information in written form. These men were not Runners as Xar had first supposed.
“You’re Hunters,” he voiced his realization out loud. The older man again revealed nothing, Dean tensed and took a more defensive stance, and the youngest man seemed almost ashamed.
Patryn society had developed into three social groups. Runners strove to move forward through the Labyrinth, trying to reach the final exit Gate and destroying the smaller Gates in between, making the way somewhat easier for those following after. Once it became clear that beating the Labyrinth would take generations, some of the people chose to band together into nomadic communities, known as Squatters, who travelled at a much slower pace that permitted the raising of offspring. The third group, Hunters, were by far the fewest in number. These Patryns chose, usually as a result of the painful loss of someone close to them, to directly attack the Labyrinth, instead of more passively reacting to the prison’s own actions.
“Yes, we’re Hunters,” the solemn elder finally spoke again, “and I serve no master.”
“Very well,” Xar acknowledged. If the men chose not to accompany him, he would not argue the point. Willing followers were always preferable to ones that might be foolish enough to try turning on him. He had not needed to intervene in their battle and so had not earned the life debt loyalty so many of his other followers displayed.
“Wait!” the youngest man called out as Xar made to leave. “What if someone wanted to return to the Nexus with you, but not to fight?”
“Sam!” Dean was aghast, and the other man’s expression darkened into a fierce glower.
“I want to study in that library,” Sam continued. He seemed to be gathering strength and determination, the hesitance in his prior words gone. “I want to learn more about this place, more about everything!”
“You belong here with your family!” the older man snapped.
“What reason do I have to stay?” Sam snarled back, and Xar knew a long-standing argument when he heard one. “Here I’m just my father’s soldier, forced into battle after battle to appease your vengeance! You know the only difference here? Xar is giving me a choice!”
“You want a choice? I’ll give you a choice! If you leave now, don’t expect to ever return, or stay and we never speak of this again.”
Dean was looking from one angered face to the other, clearly restraining himself from stepping between the arguing men. “You can’t mean that, father--Sam, he didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, he did,” Sam insisted. He squared his shoulders, using every inch of his considerable height to look down at his father. “I’m going.”
Without another word, the boy’s father turned and walked away as though that had been his intention all along.
Dean stepped forward and placed a hand on his brother’s chest, resting over the younger man’s heart rune. “Sam...”
“I’m going, Dean,” he repeated firmly. Then his expression softened somewhat and he placed his own hand over his brother’s heart.
“Dean!” Their father’s call was just loud enough to carry back to them. Dean immediately turned his head to look in the direction of the summons. He gave his brother one last sad look before he pulled away to follow his father out of sight.
Xar was a little disappointed to see him go. Such loyalty as could be found in the older brother was a rare thing, but it was for the best since the loyalty was not to Xar. The brothers were an excellent fighting team, brothers in arms as well as in blood, but Xar remembered Sam’s question.
“You will not be forced to fight for me. It is my hope that in time you will choose to serve me as a warrior, but until then, you are free to explore all that the Nexus offers, my son.”
The young man flinched at the address. It had become habit for Xar to call all of his followers his sons and daughters, but after what had just occurred, it seemed a little cruel.
“Don’t call me that.” Sam’s shoulders were tense, his expression brooding. “I’m grateful to you for allowing me to follow you to the Nexus, but please call me by my name or not at all.
“Certainly, Sam.” The boy claimed not to want to fight, but Xar could see the anger in him. He had confidence that as Sam’s knowledge grew, that anger would increase as well. The Lord of the Nexus could be a patient man.
Master Post || Next
Xar watched the battle taking place below him dispassionately. From his place atop a nearby hill, he could be instantly aware of the approach of any additional parties, but he would not interfere. He was interested to see what the outcome would be, and the situation looked like it would resolve itself shortly.
The Lord of the Nexus had been making one of his trips back into the Labyrinth to liberate, and frequently recruit to his cause, his fellows when he happened upon the fight between three Patryn men and five wolfen. One of the beasts was already dead when Xar reached his vantage point, and a second followed soon after, gutted on the blade of the oldest of the three men.
The odds no longer decisively in their favor, one of the wolfen attempted to flee. It couldn’t be allowed to fetch reinforcements, even if that weren’t its intent. The older man caught the gaze of one of the other men in a brief moment that was enough to convey his decision to follow the retreating foe. The other man gave a barely perceptible nod in acknowledgement before turning his focus back to his own opponent.
Clearly, this was a long-standing alliance and not a partnership merely of necessity. Silent communication was vitally important in an environment where any extra sound could draw dangerous attention, but Xar had rarely seen it so well developed. The ability to convey so much in such limited time took years to develop. Such veteran warriors could be very helpful to his cause, provided they survived.
Lord Xar realized the remaining two fighters were younger than he’d initially thought. Patryn children were taught to defend themselves as soon as they were able, but the fluid style and ruthlessly efficient skill of these men made it obvious that they had been fighting on the offensive side from a very young age. It was typical for Runner parents to either settle in a Squatter village to raise any children or to simply foster them to a Squatter couple and carry on without them. Children were distracting and vulnerable, and it was a rare thing indeed for a family to remain together. Xar was certain now that these men must either be related or deeply connected in some other way.
Xar could not be certain whether his presence had been noted, but either way he would not interfere in the battle unless directly asked for assistance. It was a point of pride for many warriors to finish their own battles. It was not necessarily a true weakness to ask for help if it was needed, but many of his people saw it as such. Xar was also keen to see more of their fighting skill in action. These two men were young enough to be broken of any particularly bad habits and capable of learning new skills easier than older warriors.
The first and shorter of the two, though actual height was difficult to determine from this distance, fought in the moment. His style hovered right on the edge of completely reckless; he wasn’t out to get himself killed, but he clearly wasn’t afraid to allow himself to be injured achieving his goal. He also seemed to be keeping one eye on his compatriot when it would be much more helpful focused on the fight in front of him.
The other fighter, gangly limbs and somewhat awkward movement marking him as only recently having reached his current stature, was the opposite. He kept his distance from his foe, carefully watching and planning several steps ahead. If the situation began to go badly, he never hesitated to retreat slightly and consider his options again.
Teamwork, though frequently necessary for survival, was not often a high priority for Patryns. These two young men balanced each other well, however. Xar mused absently that if he could combine the best characteristics of each, he would have an almost perfect fighter.
Both fights had come to stalemates, and Xar knew with the certainty of experience that any moment one of the four combatants would make a mistake and everything would be over in a few heartbeats. Sure enough, the lanky young man slightly misjudged his reach and overbalanced. He recovered quickly, but not before his opponent landed a slice to the back of his forearm. The runes on his arm deflected most of the blow, but the wolfen, like all the Labyrinth’s monsters, knew how to target any empty spaces in the pattern of octagonal symbols connected by smaller square sigils. Too well-trained to cry his pain out loud, he must have reacted just loudly enough for the sound to reach the other Patryn.
The shorter man tensed, eyes narrowing. He lunged headlong at his own adversary, who raised its arms to block an attack that never came because the Patryn instead dropped into a roll that brought him up underneath the wolfen’s guard. He slashed deeply across the beast’s abdomen, runes etched in the blade granting sharpness beyond that of a normal sword, to slice almost effortlessly through the beast’s thick hide and then brought the blade back again to hamstring it before barreling toward the last wolfen standing. It turned its gaze to the new threat, leaving its throat open to an attack from the lanky Patryn that all but beheaded it.
The younger man glared at his companion for a moment before turning his attention to cleaning the blood from his blade. The shorter man simply turned back around to deliver a killing blow to the other foe, still writhing on the ground. Xar took a quick glance around, confirming no incoming threats, and then headed down the hill toward the two men. He made no effort to mask his approach, in case he had not been spotted earlier, but the casual way that both men glanced up at him confirmed his suspicions that his presence was no surprise.
The tall young man, and the Lord of the Nexus could now see that he was quite tall indeed, ignored Xar and addressed his companion. Many would consider the total dismissal rude, but Xar recognized it as acknowledgement that he was not viewed as a threat. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Dean!”
“I didn’t.” Dean shrugged. He gave Xar a quick nod in greeting and then turned his attention to scanning their surroundings, no doubt looking for their comrade’s return.
“Only because I got to it first,” the lanky youth insisted with a glower. “I’m neither a weakling nor a child.”
“I know,” Dean agreed. He gave the other man a pointed look that clearly meant the discussion was over.
Dean turned once more to Xar. “We found no evidence of other wolfen in the immediate area, we haven’t much to trade, and we’re not from any Squatter encampment around here.” The young warrior had quickly and succinctly covered all the typical reasons a strange Patryn might approach another in this place. He made to turn away again, apparently convinced that the matter had been settled.
Xar was about to halt him when the third member of the group arrived back at the scene of the battle. The man used another telling glance to communicate to Dean and the other man that the final foe was dead. He looked Xar over shrewdly and began to step forward, but he was intercepted by the tall young man.
“I knew we should have scouted the area again.” The younger man’s scowl was matched by a nearly identical one on the elder’s face. “It’s unusual for a wolfen hunting party to be as small as only three, but you just couldn’t wait to throw us into another fight, could you?”
“Now isn’t the time for this.” The older man cocked his head meaningfully in Xar’s direction, but it was clear from his tone that the topic wouldn’t be warmly welcomed later either. They stared each other down for a few tense moments before Dean placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and he grudgingly stepped back. The older man continued forward until he was directly in front of Xar, though slightly out of reach, and looked at him expectantly.
Xar introduced himself and gave his usual speech about escaping the Labyrinth, finding the Nexus, learning of the Sartan’s “rehabilitation” plans, and his own plans for the future. In truth, any of these men would be helpful additions to his army. The oldest man’s face was an impassive mask, revealing nothing of what he thought of Xar’s words. The one called Dean appeared suspicious, which was not unexpected. The Patryn people did not give their trust lightly. The youngest man was enthralled, and Xar supposed that the young were often the easiest to sway to a cause, the ones who felt everything most passionately.
“The Nexus,” the boy began, and Xar expected a question about the current size of his forces or something of the like, “you said there is a library there?”
Xar was momentarily taken aback. All Patryns knew their own rune language thoroughly, but that was primarily for use in their magic; there was only one group in the Labyrinth that favored recording information in written form. These men were not Runners as Xar had first supposed.
“You’re Hunters,” he voiced his realization out loud. The older man again revealed nothing, Dean tensed and took a more defensive stance, and the youngest man seemed almost ashamed.
Patryn society had developed into three social groups. Runners strove to move forward through the Labyrinth, trying to reach the final exit Gate and destroying the smaller Gates in between, making the way somewhat easier for those following after. Once it became clear that beating the Labyrinth would take generations, some of the people chose to band together into nomadic communities, known as Squatters, who travelled at a much slower pace that permitted the raising of offspring. The third group, Hunters, were by far the fewest in number. These Patryns chose, usually as a result of the painful loss of someone close to them, to directly attack the Labyrinth, instead of more passively reacting to the prison’s own actions.
“Yes, we’re Hunters,” the solemn elder finally spoke again, “and I serve no master.”
“Very well,” Xar acknowledged. If the men chose not to accompany him, he would not argue the point. Willing followers were always preferable to ones that might be foolish enough to try turning on him. He had not needed to intervene in their battle and so had not earned the life debt loyalty so many of his other followers displayed.
“Wait!” the youngest man called out as Xar made to leave. “What if someone wanted to return to the Nexus with you, but not to fight?”
“Sam!” Dean was aghast, and the other man’s expression darkened into a fierce glower.
“I want to study in that library,” Sam continued. He seemed to be gathering strength and determination, the hesitance in his prior words gone. “I want to learn more about this place, more about everything!”
“You belong here with your family!” the older man snapped.
“What reason do I have to stay?” Sam snarled back, and Xar knew a long-standing argument when he heard one. “Here I’m just my father’s soldier, forced into battle after battle to appease your vengeance! You know the only difference here? Xar is giving me a choice!”
“You want a choice? I’ll give you a choice! If you leave now, don’t expect to ever return, or stay and we never speak of this again.”
Dean was looking from one angered face to the other, clearly restraining himself from stepping between the arguing men. “You can’t mean that, father--Sam, he didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, he did,” Sam insisted. He squared his shoulders, using every inch of his considerable height to look down at his father. “I’m going.”
Without another word, the boy’s father turned and walked away as though that had been his intention all along.
Dean stepped forward and placed a hand on his brother’s chest, resting over the younger man’s heart rune. “Sam...”
“I’m going, Dean,” he repeated firmly. Then his expression softened somewhat and he placed his own hand over his brother’s heart.
“Dean!” Their father’s call was just loud enough to carry back to them. Dean immediately turned his head to look in the direction of the summons. He gave his brother one last sad look before he pulled away to follow his father out of sight.
Xar was a little disappointed to see him go. Such loyalty as could be found in the older brother was a rare thing, but it was for the best since the loyalty was not to Xar. The brothers were an excellent fighting team, brothers in arms as well as in blood, but Xar remembered Sam’s question.
“You will not be forced to fight for me. It is my hope that in time you will choose to serve me as a warrior, but until then, you are free to explore all that the Nexus offers, my son.”
The young man flinched at the address. It had become habit for Xar to call all of his followers his sons and daughters, but after what had just occurred, it seemed a little cruel.
“Don’t call me that.” Sam’s shoulders were tense, his expression brooding. “I’m grateful to you for allowing me to follow you to the Nexus, but please call me by my name or not at all.
“Certainly, Sam.” The boy claimed not to want to fight, but Xar could see the anger in him. He had confidence that as Sam’s knowledge grew, that anger would increase as well. The Lord of the Nexus could be a patient man.
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