Mark of the Fool
Chapter 704: The Marked, the Runed and the Bloody

All sound died. Snow melted, turning to puddles around them.

Swirling debris filled the air and Alex slammed his eyes shut, splintering wood piercing his torso as red dripped from burning flesh.

His skin felt raw, stinging, blistering. His lungs screamed for air as he held his breath, setting his teeth, stopping himself from choking on the arrow’s acrid smoke.

And through the haze, Bjorgrund bellowed in alarm, the young giant’s voice reverberating through the trees, loud enough to be heard for miles around.

Their opponents were much closer, they certainly heard his cries.

Metal clinked on metal through smoke and steam. Heavy bodies charged through the trees, as war-cries were shouted in challenge. Alex opened his eyes to waves of power coursing all around them.

His hair stood on end.

“Kill the human,” a deep voice ordered. “Kill all others and retrieve the rune-marked giant. He is of our own.”

For an instant, the world seemed to stand still.

‘It’s like the church,’ Alex thought. ‘These rune-marked bastards are coming for Bjorgrund the same way the church and king wanted to take me.’

His jaw clenched as rage burned in his chest.

Alex planted his feet, grabbed his staff and raised it high. The aeld’s mana joined with his power and the Traveller’s.

A connection formed.

Magic shaped a strong bridge between planes.

And the wind howled, announcing a greater air elemental shimmering into being before him; one of the wind spirits that had guided the Red Siren through the stormy Prinean Sea.

“Lord of Wind and Rain,” Alex called. “I ask you to clear this smoke away!”

The air elemental whirled, sweeping through smoke and steam, sucking all debris up in a vortex.

Sight returned.

His eyes flew wide. The wizard dodged, teleporting away from a volley of arrows racing for his chest, soaring through the air, sinking into trees behind him but not exploding.

Runes glowed, running along their shafts, tips splitting evergreen bark and thick tree trunks.

‘Shit! If I was still standing there, they would’ve gone right through me!’ he cursed, taking in his surroundings.

Rune-marked were emerging from the woods like phantoms from the mist; fierce and numerous.

The column of runed-warriors looked familiar.

Barbarians poured from between trees, their warleader towered in their midst, black-armoured, and menacing. He gestured toward Alex and Bjorgrund with a sword in one hand and his axe in the other.

Barbarian warriors had moved across the snow with grace and power, closing the distance with their weapons poised for violence.

Bjorgrund hesitated.

The rune on his chest burned as bright as flame.

Alex looked at the young giant. “Do what you have to!” He called to him then raised his staff.

Its blooms blazed.

“Run or fight! It’s your choice!” the wizard shouted.

A connection formed between him and the celestial planes.

“But whatever you do, do it now!”

The air elemental lashed out, blowing smoke, steam and debris at the oncoming warband. Some stumbled. Some choked. Most kept coming.

They were close, misting breaths near enough to see.

Bjorgrund—his rune-marked chest blazing fiercely—glanced at the Fool of Thameland. His eyes fell on the Mark as he touched his rune. His gaze rose to meet Alex’s.

Alex nodded.

Bjorgrund set his jaw.

The young giant roared. “In my father’s name and mine!”

He swung his axe.

Barbarians tried to slow, but the greater air elemental flew above them, lashing them with powerful gusts of wind. Warriors stumbled.

Bjorgrund’s axe cut down four rune-marked without slowing.

The snow washed red.

Alex aimed his staff at the rest; a beast’s roar ripped the air, announcing a celestial dire tiger landing in the snow, teeth and claws flashing. It wasted no time, snarling, tearing, clawing at the barbarians in a whirlwind of power and fangs. But they did not shrink away, axes and blades swinging at the summons, fighting to fend it off, while Bjorgrund didmerciless work with his axe.

The giant was inexperienced—lacking the flowing moves of well skilled fighters like Hart, Theresa, Cedric, the First Apostle, Kyembe or Ezerak—but his training was obvious.

What he lacked in finesse, he made up for in speed and strength.

The tiger attacked the rune-marked in a frenzy, biting, mauling them, defending the giant and wizard.

But the barbarians had numbers on their side.

They poured from the forest in droves, reminding Alex that Theresa had said there’d been a great number of barbarians waiting in the forest when the warband had attacked the Irtyshenans.

How many awaited in the trees here and now?

‘Father…I’m on my way!’ Claygon shouted.

Alex heard the cottage door burst open. Brutus’ barking, howling and growling grew louder as he bounded toward the fight.

The young wizard fought to even the odds.

Drawing on his pool of mana, he conjured monster after monster with sixth-tier magic.

More celestial dire tigers.

Greater elementals of water and ice.

Fire elementals.

He called on the monsters, using both his staff and mana to conjure a force of elite monsters that surrounded him and the young giant.

“Attack!” he shouted.

The water and ice elementals worked in tandem; the former sprayed the air with jets of water, while the ice elementals frosted the streams. Barbarians froze in place by the dozens in mere moments, encased in layers of ice.

Fire elementals sprayed cones of flame over the approaching horde as dire tigers mangled rune-marked warriors.

The display was devastating to behold.

And yet, the remaining barbarians did not pause; the violence spurred them on as they screamed battlecries, laughing in their work. They chopped companions from the grip of ice, ran through flames with mad grins and burning flesh. They grappled with celestial dire tigers, showing no fear, spitting blood in the holy beasts’ eyes, while lashing out with weapons that ranged from hammers to blades.

They fought with as much, or more, ferocity as demons Alex had faced.

“They’re endless!” Bjorgrund shouted, booting a barbarian with a well-aimed kick. The rune-marked warrior sailed over the others, landing in a broken heap among the branches of a tree.

“Nothing’s endless,” Alex said, teleporting past another volley of arrows. “They’ll learn that the hard way.”

As he spoke, he conjured swarms of elemental beetles, sending them into the barbarians’ ranks. They swarmed over the ravening warriors, clinging, biting, blinding them, slowing their charge.

But the rune-marked did not retreat, retaliating with a bloody fervour.

A hulking warrior jabbed her rune-encrusted spear through a greater fire elemental. The burning entity flared—swelling with heat and light—striking out with blazing tentacles. Pressing her spear forward, the rune-marked warrior stood completely still, snarling against the flames.

Her companions came to her aid, swarming, their weapons striking at the elemental. The fire spirit burned brighter—crackling with rage—sweeping around with flame.

Rune-marked fell, but more fought on, weapons striking true until—at last—the elemental vanished, returning home.

Warriors surrounded the dire tigers; though every celestial beast had killed more than a dozen rune-marked warriors, more had come forward, looking to challenge the summoned spirits.

These runed fighters moved sedately, with a timeless grace.

Their bodies bore more runes, they carried weapons that thrummed with power, and with lightning fast strikes, drove them into striped hides.

With claws slashing and fangs bared, the celestials struck back. “You dare strike at me?” one demanded, its claws raking at the mortal before it. But, these warriors who had now joined the battle deflected blade-like claws with thick shields, then closed in, attacking.

Howling its fury, a celestial vanished, returning to the upper planes.

The rune-marked took advantage, pushing into this new gap and working to surround the wizard and giant.

Alex conjured a swarm of Wizard’s Hands rapidly, sending them to harass the rune-marked. They tugged at sword-hands, snagged feet, tripping and hindering the horde.

Warriors fell, entangled in cursing heaps, reducing deadly blows to wild misses.

Others pushed forward, eliminating summons even as the wizard conjured more.

A screaming barbarian crashed through the snow—his face set and eyes wild—charging at Alex, swarmed by elemental beetles and being pulled back by over a dozen Wizard’s Hands.

Alex was preparing to teleport away when a massive woodcutter’s axe met the rune-marked’s skull, splitting the warrior in two.

Bjorgrund gave Alex a quick nod, his red rune shining on his chest.

Whirling sounds whistled through the air.

Bolas—metal balls linked by thick chains—spun toward the giant, launched by rune-marked warriors who resembled mortals less than they did living mounds of muscle and steel.

Bjorgrund cried out as the bolas struck him, binding his limbs.

Yet, they barely slowed the giant.

He thrashed around, striking at his attackers like a cornered wolf.

“Pin him!” shouted the warleader, sending rune-encrusted veterans at the young giant, each holding steel man-catchers. They restrained his thick limbs, slowing him further.

More rune-marked threw chains around him and pulled.

The giant’s strength, though formidable, was held in check as the rune-marked swarmed, wrapping their chains around tree trunks, pulling at him with all of their collective strength.

“Nope, not today,” Alex snarled, sending more Wizard’s Hands at Bjorgrund’s captors. They blocked the warriors’ eyes, pulled at their wrists, trying to make them release the chains.

With a wave of his staff, Alex conjured another celestial dire tiger, setting it on the chain-wielding barbarians, but it was soon swarmed, its path blocked.

Arrows cut the air.

The young wizard teleported around them.

“Retreat, little man,” the rune-marked warleader’s voice resonated through the forest, his words spoken in grim tones in the common tongue. “We only want what is ours; you are a fine warrior with strange powers, but we will overwhelm your magic. Retreat now, or I promise, you will be slain.”

“Are you kidding me?” Alex laughed.

Claygon mentally touched the young wizard’s mind.

“I guess you don’t know it, but you’re not even fighting us at full strength.” He grinned.

There came a sound like wind rushing by.

Then Theresa was leaping past with Brutus bounding ahead of her, fully armoured in bone plate. They met the barbarians with full fury; Theresa was a blur, the Twinblade flashing around her. Her swords weaved through guards, leaving deep, double-cuts in barbarian flesh.

Runed warriors fell around her like wheat.

Brutus barreled in, his spiked body leaving ruin in its wake. He ripped and tore, leaving their attackers in shreds, flaying them with his tail, shattering bones like dried twigs.

Veteran warriors who’d stood against the celestial dire tigers were ripped apart by the cerberus blood-familiar.

The barbarians’ momentum wavered.

And then came Claygon.

The golem’s iron footsteps echoed through the forest as he waded through the enemies’ ranks. He lifted his war-spear, the rune-marked’s weapons glanced off his body, and he swung the blade in a deadly arc.

It cut through groups of warriors, leaving them shattered like dried logs.

Broken barbarians flew past Alex, landing in limp heaps as the war-spear’s deadly haft crushed them.

“Let go of my son!” Birger shouted, limping out of the cottage. “Bjorgrund!”

He took a stone from a bag hanging across his shoulder—one larger than Alex’s head—and hurled it at the barbarians. It glowed, barrelling through the rune-marked, sending them toppling like falling stones.

The warleader watched the battle.

Mist boiled from his visor. “Retreat, my warriors!” he shouted. “Regroup.”

The armoured hulk—and his horde—quickly turned, much as they had against the Irtyshenan knights and began melting back into the thick trees to disappear.

But, Alex Roth wasn’t about to let enemies get away only to return and menace Birger and Bjorgrund some other day.

Not if he could help it.

Drawing on the aeld’s remaining power, he conjured another dire tiger, sheathed himself in flight magic, then shouted. “Hey, I thought you liked fighting, you lumbering coward!”

He called on the Traveller’s power. “If you’re going to run away, don’t forget your parting gift!”

Touching the tiger’s flank, he teleported above the warleader.

He grinned down at the armoured hulk. “Hello there,” was all he said.

And then launched a half ton of angry celestial tiger at him.