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

Chapter 11: Grey and White

Lotta bit her thumb with anxiety in the corner, her eyes fixed on Anty's face whilst Seiren examined him. As Seiren expected, he did not respond to voice or pain – nothing at all. His pupils flickered at the tiny yellow rune she conjured, but that was it.

It was as she'd suspected.

"He's been hit by an indigo rune. He won't be able to wake up until it wears off."

"An indigo rune?" The whispers that swept through the room suggested that they'd heard wild tales about the powers of runes. Lotta scrunched up her face. "So you can't fix it?"

"No. Indigo runes have to wear off by themselves usually. The only thing you can do is keep him comfortable and warm."

"Aren't you rune mages kind of useless, then?" blurted out Bennin. Seiren glared at him.

"Still better than you, running home with your tail tucked beneath your legs."

"Don't forget you're our captive, Seiren Nithercott," said Lotta, reaching a hand to clutch the knife at her waist. Her dark eyes flashed. "Don't try anything weird because we will hurt you."

"Threaten me whatever you want. Anty isn't waking up no matter what I do. And thank you for the appreciation for my input," Seiren snapped.

Lotta hesitated.

"Thanks. I guess." Her voice was grudging, her eyes not meeting Seiren's. Seiren crossed her arms and snorted. "But don't think you can go just because you helped Anty. Once we get someone to pay for you, we'll let you go then. We won't hurt you if you sit quietly in the corner."

Sit quietly in the corner... like hell. I could kick all their asses right there, kids or not.

I can't imagine anyone wanting to pay ransom for you, Seiren.

No, me neither. I wonder how long they'll keep me in this stinking place before they realise that I'm actually nowhere near as valuable as they imagined me to be. They definitely picked the wrong mage.

The room of fourteen or so kids ranging from ages of five to sixteen kept a suspicious eye on her for the rest of the day. There was no food, as expected. They tried to scrounge as much as they could, sending out regulars to scour the city and rummage through the bins. Occasionally they would return triumphant with bits of moulding bread or discarded, half-rotten fruit, but most of the time it was empty-handed. The room was regularly peppered with the percussion of hungry stomachs and whines of small children.

"What are these greys and whites you talk about?"

Lotta, stroking the head of a small boy lying in her lap, gave her a sideways glance.

"They're the biggest gangs in Danaway. They rule the streets. The Greys are the dumber ones, but they're strong and they always beat up people. The Whites are smaller, but they play dirty. They were probably the ones with the runes. They're always fighting over territory, 'cos it means power."

"I wish they wouldn't fight so often. It's always people like us that suffer," said Bennin, lolling against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. He would glance at the barely-breathing Anty every now and then, who was now covered with spare clothes to keep him warm. "Anty just wanted some toy that was in the rubbish pile, and one of the runes bounced."

"It's all your fault!" burst out one of the boys in the corner. Seiren raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "If you stupid rune mages hadn't gone around selling these things we wouldn't be like this!"

Resentment towards mages? That's new.

Yes, the finger of blame. Oh, poor them. Feel my tears.