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Balamor started returning the fallen items to his bag when a familiar green glow caught his attention. His eyes snapped to see his small spellbook, flipped open to it’s fourth page. Every item spare one rune made it into his pack as he hurried towards the glowing piece of parchment. Snatching the book from the ground he studied it closely.

The page was no longer blank, but instead it’s surface was filled with lines of runewords, many he hadn’t seen before. Four rows of the strange symbols glowed a warm shade of green which waved like light from a torchfire. Suddenly he remembered his encounter before crossing the bridge,

“The robed woman!” He whispered to himself as he watched the earth summon chase down the hooded bandit.

The clay beast closed the distance between him and the final highwayman within seconds, its dirt arms morphed together as they clasped the shaken bandit squeezing the air from his lungs. As the last bit of air escaped him the dirt golem twisted downward, carrying the limp bandit with it. Moments went by before a cloud of dirt settled and the golem was no more, in its place was the now unconscious bandit. His chin rested on the freshly turned soil, the rest of his body was buried below the ground.

Balamor was on one knee as the madness settled into an eerie stillness, scanning the aftermath of the disastrous event . His face and hands were covered in scrapes and bruises, his robes ripped and matted with dirt. He glanced down at his silver dagger uneasily, it’s blade was streaked with the blood of the con artist who nearly kidnapped him. He suddenly felt a surge of pain rush through his left arm, clenching his shoulder Balamor saw his blood seep into his palm. He snatched the remaining rune from the ground when the sound of a cough broke the lingering silence.

Balamor crept over to the remnants of the dirt wave which saved his life. There the crippled body of a highwayman struggled to breathe. The man lifted his right hand to the air as Balamor slowly approached, spreading his fingers wide,

“R...ra...raji..” His words were faint and distant as he spoke

Balamor felt a strange sensation in his right hand before fixing his eyes on the disk shaped rune in his palm. A cross cut into a circle glowed a bright yellow, illuminating the road around them. The bandit let out raspy laughs, each one becoming more and more clear as Balamor watched the yellow light gather at the tips of his fingers before the cuts and bruises left the crippled mans face and body.

He jumped to his feet and took off down the road, stumbling over the spilled goods from the caravan. Balamor was in shock as the man made his escape, looking down at the rune, its glow began to fade just before Balamor whispered to himself,


The End

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