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

Chapter 19: Saint-Like Chest

An explosion shattered the peaceful night of Keycol. Flames leapt up to the skies, turning the black into yellow and orange. The flames receded, lighting the streets of Keycol and throwing shadows all over the abandoned wooden huts that used to be the miners' homes until the nearest mines went dry. Over the crackles of fire, footsteps crunched on the rubble down the road. Denerin Raynott, state mage of Keycol, swept his black, rainbow-lined cloak over his shoulders, his hands opened in welcome challenge to his opponent.

"You dare take me on?" he called to the cloaked figure, whose features he couldn't decipher. The silhouette reflected very little light from the fire. "You've an awful lot of gall to think you have what it takes to beat a state mage!"

He flung out an arm. A crackle of flames was the only warning before white-hot fire rushed at the cloaked figure. He vanished.

"What the—" Denerin stared, astonished. Nobody had ever dodged his attacks before. He silently cursed this unlit part of town.

A shuffle of movement behind alerted him to the presence of his attacker. He spun around and threw out another hand. A burst of flames shot from him straight at the black figure. On contact, the flames dissipated. One surprise after another. Denerin grimaced, clearing his head to ready another assault. The cloaked figure gave nothing away: no sound, no more words since the ridiculous proposal.

"What are your thoughts on overthrowing King Pollin?"

What a ridiculous, treasonous suggestion.

"Identify yourself!" Denerin shouted, raising his hand. This man, attacking a state mage with magic, would be best behind bars and interrogated. He must be behind the attacks he'd heard about from the council recently, the so-called shadow man. "You will answer to your crimes for attacking state mages!"

The shadow man moved almost quicker than Denerin could see. One moment he was about twenty metres away, his features impossible to define in the dark; the next, he darted off the wall with deftness and lightness almost on an inhuman level and leapt at Denerin.

But Denerin was no amateur. He'd spent a considerable amount of time as a military mage. He batted away the flurry of attacks and sidestepped the ones that would have dealt considerable damage. This shadow man attacked with skills, not desperation, and with a calculated deadliness that made Denerin stay as much on the periphery as he could.

"You are trained in the art of fighting. Who are you?" he demanded. Yet again, nothing but silence since his refusal to participate. Denerin threw out a hand and flexed his wrist, his eyes narrowed. Blue flames spiralled, scorching the walls and the houses burst alight. For a split second, it lit up the assailant's face. Denerin's eyes widened. "Impossible!"

The assailant slammed a rune down. Orange blended with violet and absorbed the burst magic in its entirety. He shot forward, another rune in the palm of his hand. Denerin didn't have time to adjust. He threw his arm forward, but panic distracted him at the last moment. A spark ignited at the tips of his fingers but the flame never came. The attacker smashed the rune into Denerin's chest and gestured, leaping backwards.

Orange crashed into red and the rune exploded with enough force to shake the ground.

****

"Third case in a month already. We're dropping like flies," said Kommora, sweeping past the military personnel. Liore and Ash hurried after her. Kommora was never a fan of Keycol. It was too isolated. Too many mountains on either side and long winding roads to even access the place. The population was small, most of them labourers and miners. Even with the newly-built train station that ran south to Bicknor last year, there had been very little shift in the population and diversity. If not for Denerin Raynott's demand to be instated back at his place of birth, there would not be a state mage there at all and this would have become a town forgotten by magic and time.