The Rune Sage

Callum ducked, a crossbow bolt whizzing over his head. He gave a short whistle in appreciation for the accuracy of the shot. It would have taken him right through the throat, had he been a fraction slower. He whipped around, the intricate tattoo etched into the palm of his hand glowing white. The white ink of the tattoo stood out starkly against his dark skin.

He focused his power, calling forth a specific rune from deep within his memory. The matching rune on his hand glowed brighter, the light rushing along the inked lines to gather in the small point.

As he lined up his hand with his target, he released his hold on the spell. A crackling bolt of lighting beamed out of his palm, spearing the man who fired at him in the heart. The soldier fell to the ground in a heap like a puppet with its strings cut, crossbow still clutched tightly in his hands.

Callum hardly had time to rejoice in his successful shot before he was already under attack again. A short sword rushed at him from his left, and he had barely a heartbeat to raise his own weapon in his left hand, a khopesh. The curved blade of the weapon hooked his opponents, and he drove it out of the soldier’s hand, slicing a deep gouge in his chest on the back swing.

Callum determined he was out of the fight, turning in a quick dash out the large door of the warehouse he had been cornered in. As he left, he threw a small spark of fire at a strip of fabric draped over something or other, a satisfying flame kick up almost immediately. He had to stop wasting his power, but the fire would make an excellent cover up on his was out of the compound.

Callum hooked a right as he left, weaving through buildings and workshops. The walls were mostly wooden, but nothing that would catch fire as easily as the interior of the warehouse. No thatched roofs either, so he decided to let them stand.

As he turned a corner, his target came into view, but in the same instant he discovered an obstacle. A pack of four soldiers turned the corner, heavy armor shining in the mid-day sun. Forty meters. He felt a slight tinge of annoyance as he spotted them, noting the heavy axes and maces they wielded. Not his ideal weapons to go against.

Once again, he pulled runes from the depths of his memory. This time, he gathered a series of them, focusing the new-found light that had been slowly gathering in his palm since his last magical attack. He would need more power for what he planned, so he supplemented the white light with his own energy. Twenty-eight meters.

He gripped his wrist gauntleted in light with his left to steady it, dropping his khopesh. He would have to find the sword when this was all over. His right arm was fully extended pointing straight at the ground as he gathered yet more power. Sixteen meters.

The charging soldiers were getting too close, and Callum decided it was close enough. With one last push of energy, he lifted his right arm over his head, elbow still bent towards the ground, and thrust his hand at the street with all the power he could muster. His whole body followed the motion, and he fell to one knee as the runes in his hand went to work.

A shockwave of power and stone rippled out from where he struck the cobbled streets, a tidal wave of crushing death. It rose to two and a half meters at it’s peak, and Callum caught only a glimpse of the soldiers stumbling back in surprise before they were swallowed in the storm of rubble. He could hear the armor of the men bending, and bones breaking.

He wished them quick deaths, but it wasn’t something he was able to guarantee. Not today. He was on a time crunch, and he had already spent too much time fighting them.

Rising from his knee, he pulled a band of cloth from the collar of his coat, covering his mouth as dust was kicked up. The spell he had just performed had a few uses, the dust kicked up in it’s wake a worthy enough method of hiding him from enemy fire.

Callum kicked off towards the manor that was now just up the hill, purpose burning in his eyes. His right hand gathered yet more white light in preparation of what was sure to be the most grueling fight of his life yet. He grinned in anticipation as exhaustion threatened to weigh him down. This was going to bet bloody.

What a thrill…