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

Chapter 24: Haighenstein

The tracking rune formed a new pattern, recognising yet another new mage's presence.

Kommora frowned. The violet rune glowed, swirling in a pattern she hadn't yet seen. She glanced over her shoulder. Nobody had questioned the presence of a state mage at the scene of a crime involving another state mage. She sketched the response from the tracker, noting the blend of the two patterns. One must belong to Raynott, and the other his attacker.

She fished out the two she'd gotten from Reculver, where Gyan Carla was killed, and Lydden, where Vikani Pober had fallen. Neither of the two older fights corresponded with the pattern this one generated; they were all from different mages.

Six mages involved in these past three attacks. The so-called rebel group comprised at least three separate mages. Their magic patterns were very different to each other. Gyan Carla's fight was the most different; Kommora would guess the attacker was a different kind of mage compared to the ones who killed Raynott and Pober.

She straightened up. The last of her tracker rune disappeared, leaving no trace. Liore and Ash followed her when she stepped outside of the runed barrier surrounding the crime scene. This part of tiny Keycol had become even more deserted since the murder. People were worried, returning home early and moving around in groups. It was a silly notion, to think being partnered would bring them any safety should a mage decide to kill. Not even a whole town was safe; Tahir Portendorfer was living proof of that on multiple occasions. The only reassuring aspect was that no laymen had been killed yet by a rogue mage.

During her journey south to Benover, she pondered over what she'd found. Three state mages, three rogues. Denerin Raynott, 30, a burst mage of Keycol. Gyan Carla, 45, a flash mage of Reculver. Vikani Pober, 28, a rune mage of Lydden. It seemed there wasn't a particular preference in the gender, specialty, age or geographic location of the victim. The only common theme was that they were state mages. With over a hundred state mages employed in Karma, it seemed ridiculous this small band of three rogues would go after each and every one of them with the intention to kill.

Just what did they want?

The scene at Benover was fresher but no more enlightening. The narrow streets were runed off with military personnel guarding the many roads that criss-crossed it, barking at civilians to ward them away and redirecting the carts and trolleys. The remains of a flour mill, possibly the last of its kind as Benover grew larger and focused on transforming to a finance centre, was now reduced to rubble and charred wood with smoke puffing to the sky. The event must have happened a mere few hours ago. She'd overheard the whispers from the people on the streets of Keycol. Another mage had been assassinated, although no names yet.

The military guards took respectful steps away from the scene when Kommora swept in. Liore and Ash stayed on the peripheries as per rules regarding non-magical persons. The smoke made her eyes water. Congealed blood and water stained the cracked stone floor. On the edges were what could once upon a time have been part of a human body. Whoever blew up this place did a good job; the windows were smashed and the wooden skeleton to the mill's main building lay in smithereens.

Kommora knelt at the edge of the pool of blood and sketched a tracker rune, altered so that it would sense the presence of magic rather than the movement of a designated person. She flicked her fingers. It glowed violet, so bright it permeated the paper with ease, and spread from its centre to engulf the ground in its light. It branched within, solidifying and intertwining until it formed yet again another new pattern, but this one had Kommora aghast.

It represented the presence of three mages.

And most intriguing of all, she recognised two of those patterns. One was Domic Butterworth; she remembered the way his pattern swirled like the snake he was in Keycol's tracing. The other was an old student of hers whom she hadn't seen in at least two years: Crina Nighy. Ever since she got sent to Molash on the south coast, she hadn't been in contact with Kommora. Kommora would recognise that magic pattern anywhere. The remains of Nighy's last burst magic lay in chunks of gravel all around as if a meteor had crashed from above.