Children of the Rune: Winterer

Chapter 7

Lost Again

“Now is the moment. Go.”

Tulkh’s voice was neither elevated nor shaky. He sounded as calm as though he was telling Yevgnen to sleep because it was late. Yevgnen’s chin trembled a little as he stared at the man. Getting used to him had always been impossible, and it seemed that wouldn’t change, since there would be no more opportunities to even try. The next moment, a flash of brilliant light that meant death to them lit up their surroundings.

“Best of luck.”

“I’m not going,” Yevgnen said.

Tulkh’s unreadable face twitched. He didn’t ask why—he simply shook his head. “You must go if you know what your father desires.”

“My father has his will, and I have mine. He matters more to me than some equipment.”

Yulken’s head moved slightly, his gaze directed at his son. They glared at each other.

Yulken said nothing, and Yevgnen told him, “I won’t change my mind, no matter what you say.”

Tulkh could still read his master’s face as well as ever. He said quietly, “Please don’t stake your life on what is hopeless.”

“Did my father not do the same? With Prince-Elector Katsya, I mean.” Yevgnen stared straight at his father, as if Tulkh was just an interpreter. “Does the House of Jineman raise children who will bend to the will of another just because there is no more hope? Excellent equipment is treasured because it can be used in times of dire need, is it not?”

Boris looked at the fire in his father’s eyes, and the firmness in his brother’s. He was just a child who could not interfere in something like this. But even he understood faintly what was going on.

Yevgnen kept his eyes on his father and called to his brother. “Boris.”

Boris took a step closer.

Yevgnen reached out and grabbed his wrist. “You understand, don’t you?”

“I...” Boris wanted to say he was also a Jineman, someone who would not bend. He wanted to say that he valued his brother as much as his brother valued his father, and that he had no intention of surviving in a world without both of them. But no words escaped his mouth—his lips were sealed shut by the heaviness in the air.

“We can decide to die together, at least. Let’s consider that an honor, Boris.”

This wasn’t like Yevgnen. Boris knew that. He would never have said such a thing had the situation been different. The big brother that he knew would not choose death if there was a way out. Yevgnen had failed to think of a way to save him.

Unable to say anymore, he forced a smile at his little brother, and Boris noticed once more how blue his eyes were. Those eyes had always been the same. Why was he aware of them now?

No… He recognized the strange premonition he’d had when they’d been rolling about in the fields together and laughing. It was Yevgnen’s smile. The smile had felt different today. It resembled the face of their late mother in her portrait.

“Let’s go now,” Yevgnen said, his blood boiling as he stood. Tulkh helped Yulken up. They expected him to say no more, but he said, “The two of you stay back. Don’t come forward until you see me die.”

Yevgnen was at a loss. Seven years ago, had it been? Tulkh had seemed like a shadow, not a man, ever since he first became a steward of the House of Jineman. It was as if a trace of some reality had once been there, but no more.

He had never seemed to have more presence than a mere shade. All he ever did was carry out his master’s will or help the process along. One could not be expected to feel emotion or character from a shadow. The same was true of Yevgnen. Even though Tulkh had just offered to die for all their sakes, Yevgnen did not even feel any camaraderie.

“There!”

Yevgnen thought he heard a voice, but soon it was drowned out by dozens of screams. Unaware of what was going on, the four of them approached the swamp.

Flashing lights and explosions that shook the earth continued, and Yevgnen realized something. Such strong magic wasn’t necessary against them—they were injured and isolated. It meant that their uncle had encountered something, and they would see what it was soon.

Vlado’s eyes were bloodshot as he shoved past the soldiers. In fact, he didn’t really have to push through them at all. Many of them were disoriented and eager to run away, and they didn’t seem to care what they were commanded. Vlado was calm, even with the swamp right in front of him, because he knew what he was about to see. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid, but he was willing to look it in the eye, at least—the red-eyed ghost that had taken the angelic Yeni from him.

Tulkh arrived at the swamp and smiled faintly down at Yulken, who was in his arms. He almost seemed to be asking if he was ready. Yulken did not respond. His wound was too deep for him to speak easily, but he could have if he really wanted to. But he said nothing as he stood up and gripped his sword. Facing the lake now, a sound escaped him that wasn’t unlike a moan.

“Yes, finally…”

Emera Lake was like a hole that sank seemingly without end. Beyond the fence of damp shrubbery, trees that had partly melted away swayed in the mud. Step by step, he approached the covered interior. The foul smell of death filled the air. This place was likely filled with rotting corpses all the way through, at the bottom of which was hell itself.

His voice was small at first, calling a name. “Yeni...”

Would she be in there somewhere? On which layer? The claws of the creature tore through flesh and mind at the same time—a single wound would spell the end. A soul captured by such a ghost would be forever imprisoned, never to find respite…

When Yeni’s body had been brought here to be abandoned, neither Yulken nor Vlado had been watching.

A lower, but nevertheless clear, voice called from the other side.

“Yeni!”

Perhaps the brothers did not want to face each other, but it was too late to seek forgiveness now. The soul of their kindly young sister had probably rotted to the point of becoming an evil ghost.

Our sister will not forgive us. It’s time we settled this old debt between us brothers! Yulken relied on a mysterious energy rising within him that he could not identify, gripping his sword and walking forward into the dark trees that surrounded the swamp. Even as he did so, the screams of the soldiers continued, and Vlado’s voice did not come again.

“Ahhh!”

“Save me… please!”

He hadn’t seen the swampy Emera Lake in a while, and it was half-full of disgusting junk that floated up from the bottom. By “junk,” he meant bodies. This was a secret of the Longgord Fields that only some knew. When people were killed and no one noticed, the lake would once more take on the duty of decomposing the cold flesh until it disintegrated into nothing. This had been repeated for a year, ten years, twenty… Who would believe it if they were told that this place had once been likened to an emerald for its clear, green water?

“It is the resentment of those who did not deserve to die that has rotted this lake.”

The brothers finally found each other.

Vlado’s voice, when Yulken heard it for the second time, was elated. “Now then, why don’t we find out if Yenichka’s golden hair is down there, somewhere among those bodies?”

Tulkh used magic to protect his liege’s body. Vlado recognized through the translucent barrier that his brother’s face was pale and that his wound had not healed.

Vlado smiled, baring his teeth. “Why don’t we join hands and send those wrongful dead to the bottom of the swamp first?”

Jhongnal was behind Vlado, with flames in both of his hands. He was burning the approaching bodies and the monsters of the swamp. The monsters, similar to those that had attacked Boris, made a popping noise whenever the flames touched them, splattering filthy fluids.

“Or shall we measure the depth of our hatred while we wait for the one with the red eyes to appear?”

Vlado spun the black-bladed Haghrun in a semicircle and took a striking stance. He seemed relaxed. Most of the soldiers had run away by now. The corpses that had floated to the dark surface stared at the brothers with their empty eye sockets.

Yulken’s sword trembled briefly, then went still.

Yevgnen stared at the green mud and the rotting bodies that filled the swamp and felt a chill that seemed more like a wave of heat passing through his body. He also saw the soldiers, who were aghast and on the run, apparently without a care for his father or Uncle Vlado. He knew that his uncle, who had been glaring across the swamp, had drawn his sword.

The tension in the air was overwhelming because of creatures that hadn’t shown themselves yet. When would they do so? When would the red-eyed ghosts that gained their strength from the bodies they fed on make their appearance?

As Boris stood with his back against his brother’s, he thought about how helpless he was. If there was one thing that he could do, it was probably to stand behind his brother and take whatever attack came toward them first. Boris focused his mind on that task, seriously regarding it as his duty. He was thinking the same thing as his father. If anyone in their family needed to survive, it was Yevgnen.

He glanced back and noticed that his brother was gripping the hilt of Winterer so hard that his wrist was shaking. Then Boris felt Snowguard, which Yevgnen was wearing, grow faintly brighter. Had something approached them?

The wind hissed in their ears. Boris said quietly, “Yevgnen, Snowguard is…”

Yevgnen realized it as well. The light coming from the armor grew brighter and brighter until it was blinding. Even Yevgnen’s cheeks shone in the white light. He instinctively realized what was happening. The armor had sensed death. Then he heard it.

Perhaps that was not the right way to think of it since there was no sound, but there was no other way to describe it. Something was approaching from across the swamp, surrounded by black flame, its red eyes gleaming.

As Yevgnen glared at it through the darkness, Boris was rooted to the spot, hearing the ominous voice that entered his mind, not his ears. He couldn’t move a single step, even though the being he had feared so much was coming.

[What a pretty boy. Hehehe.]

When Boris opened his eyes, he was lying on a grassy field. His surroundings were brightly lit, and it was daytime. His face stung—he’d apparently been lying in the sun for a while. He had a single sword with him, and nothing else. He appeared to be alone. Sitting up, he looked around and realized that the scenery was not familiar. Where was he?

He soon recalled the events of the previous night, of how he had stood back-to-back with his brother. His breathing had come so rapidly that even his chin had felt hot. What happened after that?

Everything in his mind was chaos, as though someone had taken a ladle and stirred the contents of his brain. It was strange and confusing that he remembered nothing. Had he passed out? He had a feeling he’d seen something frightening…

“Boris! You’re awake!”