Chapter 502: A Rune in Hand
A Rune in Hand
For the third time today, Martel left the Lyceum. Stepping across the threshold and leaving its protective wards, he felt a lot more apprehensive than on the previous two occasions. He let his left hand gently tap the pockets on his belt, just to remind himself of the contents; three fire jars on one side, the healing elixir from Mistress Rana on the other. He had placed his gold-edged dagger into his belt as well, and he was brimming with spellpower if it came to a fight.
Not that he expected one; the maleficar had made no indication that he intended to attack Martel. Though that begged the question; why was he following the young wizard around? There could only be a nefarious reason to do so.
In his right hand, Martel carried the folded cloth that had served as his target while practising the range of his magic. It still bore the letter 'M' on one side, while a rune adorned the other.
The plan was simple – sort of. Assuming the maleficar would follow Martel once again, it was easy to lead him down a path and make him step on the rune. The presence of magic would make it activate, and they would have the proof. Eleanor would run back to the Lyceum, raising the alarm; once Martel made his way back there as well, the faculty could greet the maleficar and deal with him, once and for all. And should something unexpected happen, Maximilian would stay near Martel and provide assistance.
Resisting the urge to look over his shoulder for the reassurance of seeing Eleanor and Maximilian inside the entrance hall, Martel crossed the square staring straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he believed that he saw movements clad in blue; suppressing the same urge as before, Martel continued down the street.
***
Unlike previously, when Martel had simply taken a short jaunt around the market district and back, he set a course westwards to enter the merchant quarter. The district had a number of warehouses with small, deserted alleyways between them; it seemed wisest to avoid the more populated residential areas of Morcaster, just in case something did happen.
Martel's fingers clutched the cloth in his hands. He dared not look behind to see if his malignant shadow still pursued him, and the uncertainty made him jittery. If he was right, all his ordeals and pursuits of the maleficar would soon be vindicated. The dark stain upon Morcaster that turned people against magic would be cleansed away. The victims would be avenged, and the living would be relieved of fear. For once, Martel would gladly attend an execution to watch the inquisitors strangle the condemned with a golden chain.
His thoughts were interrupted by a procession of carts coming towards him, and Martel stepped to the side to avoid them. He had walked a good distance into the merchant quarter, and mostly warehouses and workshops lay ahead. Time for the next phase.
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Turning right, Martel walked down the narrow corridor between two large storehouses. He unfolded the cloth he was carrying and pressed his hand against the rune. "Klar," he whispered, and a faint glow came in response.
Moving deeper into the labyrinthine paths behind the warehouses, Martel let his cloak unfold to hide his actions from anyone behind him. Using magic, he floated the cloth to the ground and pulled dirt to help obscure it. His heart pounding, hoping that his deception would work – and that the maleficar was as near-sighted as Eleanor claimed – Martel steadied himself and continued walking at the same pace as before.
He heard an odd sound behind him, like a sack of apples being dropped to the ground, but he could not risk looking behind. It was up to Maximilian and Eleanor to sense whether the rune gave any indication of magic once the maleficar stepped onto it.
"Martel!"
Fearing their plan ruined, his mind already in a worried state, Martel turned around as he heard Eleanor call out to him. Both she and Maximilian came running down the alley, but not towards him; instead, Martel's pursuer lay on the ground. Swiftly, he ran forward as well to join the other two.
The three of them looked down to see a man somewhere in his thirties, if one was charitable given the state of his appearance, and dressed in the blue uniform of an inquisitor. His eyes were open, but lifeless. Bits of foam began to form around his mouth.
"Holy Nether, Nordmark, what kind of rune is that?" Maximilian looked up at his friend.
"Just a simple rune of revelation. It reveals magic, that's all!"
The mageknight looked down at the body in front of them. "Well, you killed this one. I guess that makes everything simpler. We should probably leave."
"He's not dead," Martel claimed. "Is he?"
Eleanor pushed him with her boot; in response, more drool appeared around his mouth. "How curious. Tyrian runes can be a little unpredictable when interacted upon by other schools of magic, but to cause such a strong reaction… Some manner of powerful magic is upon him."
"Like a curse." Martel fished out the rune stone in his pocket. He tried to consider the arguments for and against, but this was magic of such complex and unpredictable nature, he had no idea what would happen. Nor did he know if the man lying by his feet was a deranged murderer and malevolent sorcerer, or some hapless fool caught up in magic none of them could comprehend.
At the end of the day, though, he was stalking Martel. More likely than not, he was an enemy, and there was no reason to show caution. His decision made, Martel let the token with its rune of unbinding fall. It landed on the man's chest, where it suddenly glowed brightly before cracking in two, while he began violently convulsing.
"Martel, why would you do that?" Eleanor yelled.
"Damn, Nordmark, if you do not kill him with one rune, you simply pull out another! That is cold-hearted, even for me!"
"I'm not trying to kill him," Martel muttered. "I just want to see what happens."
"You may not be the only one," Maximilian replied. "To any passers-by, this looks like three mages torturing an inquisitor to death. We should leave."
Martel looked up and down the alleyway, catching a glimpse of a woman. "You're right. Let's make ourselves scarce."
"We cannot leave him!" Eleanor interjected. "We are responsible for his current state!"
"Exactly why we should leave," Martel argued. "If he is the maleficar, he deserves this fate."
Swiftly, Maximilian drew his sword. "Too late. If he is the maleficar, he brought his pet."
Down the alleyway, a creature born of smoke with flaming red eyes came flying towards them.
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