Rune System: The Crimson Knight

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Quickly, you fools! Catch her!”

Draàl’s eyes slowly peeled open, followed by a low groan that escaped his throat. He raised a hand to shield his aching eyes from the ruthless brilliance of the scorching sun, struggling to remember how he’d ended up outdoors in the first place.

“Close her down! Don’t let her escape!”

The loud voice reached his ears again, carrying the same urgency as the first time. He managed to get up to a sitting position, frowning when his head finally stopped spinning and his eyes regained their sharp focus.

“Where the hell am I?” Draàl muttered.

A vast meadow stretched out before him, with an army of green, glimmering blades of grass waving obediently to the gentle breeze. Up above, the cloudless sky proudly exhibited an uninterrupted shade of blue, with the sun taking its place high in the middle. Somewhere off to his right, Draàl could hear running water tinkling softly; an indication of a nearby stream.

As he rose to his bare feet—quickly noticing his exposed upper body and the black, silk pants covering his lower parts—the voice sliced through the air again.

“She’s getting away! Shoot her down!”

Draàl froze when he heard whistle of arrows, but what really caught his attention was the pained cry of a girl that followed soon after.

Immediately, he sprinted towards the direction of the voice, stopping short when he suddenly reached the edge of a steep cliff. Searching through the dense canopy of leaves and branches, his keen eyes picked up quick movements maneuvering around the trees several feet below. He counted eighteen men—all wearing medieval battle armor, armed with swords, axes, and crossbows, and running on foot—chasing after a young girl yards ahead. Limping from an arrow embedded in her calf, she’d slowed down considerably, giving her less time before her pursuers caught up. She gradually approached the last row of trees before a gravel shore, which bordered a wide stream flowing eastward. Considering her injury, Draàl knew she wouldn’t make it past the stream, and from the zest in their chase, he knew the men wouldn’t show mercy.

He also knew he wasn’t about to let that happen.

Without thinking, he took a few steps back. Then he charged forward, launching himself off the cliff and towards the trees below. He’d prepared to cushion his quick drop with fire from his hands like thrusters, but none came forth when he tried to summon it.

“Damn it!” he yelled as he slammed into the forest floor like a falling asteroid. Fortunately, there were no injuries incurred, not even a scratch. With no time to spare, he leaped to his feet and sprinted again, speeding towards the stream. When he broke out of the underbrush surrounding the last row of trees, he came to a grinding halt, panting as he scanned the open space before him.

The girl stood at the very edge of the stony shore, her back to the stream as she faced the murderous-looking men. She looked no older than twelve, with the remains of a torn, sullied dress barely concealing her bony frame. Her deep-black hair fell in torrents all over her face and shoulders, leaving just her golden eyes which glowed like burning embers.

“Hey!” Draàl thundered with a snarl. “Leave her alone, you pack of imbeciles!”

A confused frown came over his features when no one responded. Instead, they spread out, advancing slowly towards the girl.

“Are you deaf?!” he yelled again. “This is your final warning: leave her alone!”

Again, no response. Not even a glance over their shoulders.

“Very well, then. It’s your funeral.”

Draàl brought his hands together and grunted as he concentrated deeply. Again, no fire erupted, not even a spark. Groaning in frustration, he abandoned that tactic and lunged forward instead, aiming to clobber the nearest man from behind.

His eyes widened with shock, however, when he simply phased through the body, like a ghost through a physical wall. Stumbling from his own momentum, he dropped on the ground right in front of the girl, who seemed to look past him like he wasn’t there at all.

“They can’t hear or see me,” he whispered with realization, still shell-shocked. “Is this a dream? A vision? Does this mean I can’t help her?”

As if answering his questions, one of the pursuers snorted and spat on the ground, his hazel-brown eyes bearing more hate than he could express.

“I want you to remember, men,” he began in the same raspsy, loud voice that Draàl had heard earlier, “that all rune sorcerers, even the children, are evil to the marrow. I want it to linger in your minds for a long time how they look just before they die.”

Draàl moved his gaze from the robust, brown-haired man to the girl. Her wild face showed a mixture of fear and defiance, like she was afraid of dying, but was more than willing to go down fighting. His mind flashed to what Zha’irah had told him on the plane, about a time where rune sorcerers were being hunted and slaughtered.

“Zha’irah,” he whispered fiercely. “Where are you, damn it? What do I do? How can I help her?”

No answer came forth.

With an air of authority, the man pointed his sword at his target, scowling deeply at the girl.

“Put an arrow in the witch,” he ordered. “And make sure you don’t miss her heart.”

Without hesitation, one of his subordinates aimed a loaded crossbow, firing it expertly.

“No!” Draàl cried, impulsively jumping in the arrow’s path. As expected, the projectile slipped through him easily, but then it abruptly stopped mid-air, just before hitting its mark.

Stunned, Draàl turned around to see the young girl—grunting and wincing—push a hand forward, freezing the arrow in place with an invisible force. As she crushed it to pieces, she held out another hand, using the same magical force to grip the man with the crossbow. Instantly dropping the weapon, he squirmed as he floated off the safety of the ground, screaming in agony as his comrades moved back in caution. His screams died as his bones snapped audibly, with his body dropping to the floor like sack of flesh and blood.

Draàl looked at the men, hoping the death of their companion would scare them off. Instead, they all looked enraged, especially the man Draàl identified as their leader.

“Again! Shoot her again! Now that she’s weak!”

Truly, the girl had fallen to her knees, breathing heavily through her mouth as she bled through her nose. This time, multiple crossbows were raised, and aim was taken.

But they never had the chance to finish her off.