《The Lost Runes Saga [Epic Fantasy]》 Chapter 1
The icy wind blew through Vidar¡¯s clothes as he carefully made his way up the three steps leading to the thick wooden door. Cursing under his breath, he reached up and banged on it with the back of his fist. ¡°Hjalmar, you fat bastard, open up!¡± Wind whipped around his ears and he shuddered. He repeated the motion, with even more power behind it this time. ¡°I know you¡¯re in there!¡± He was about to strike the door a third time when it suddenly flew open. Startled, Vidar slid on the ice, almost losing his balance before finding his footing. Hjalmar filled the opening. Glorious warmth and light spilled out around his thick, tall frame, and the older man¡¯s mustache twitched in irritation. Hjalmar folded his arms over his chest and took a step forward, crowding the small, raised area. ¡°What are ye doing here, ya little shite?¡± ¡°You owe me money! Hand it over or I¡¯ll set the guards on you!¡± Vidar¡¯s raised hand and pointed finger didn¡¯t do much to impress Hjalmar with the seriousness of the situation. ¡°Don¡¯t ye think I know ye¡¯ve been tossed out on yer arse, lad? Even yer own father doesn¡¯t want ya no more. Yer poison to the business! That last book was a nightmare. Ye even changed the ending! What kind of scribe does that?¡± Heat rose in Vidar¡¯s face, but he refused to back down. No one ever spoke to him like that. ¡°And whose fault is it I¡¯m out here in the cold? Yours!¡± Hjalmar gave a resigned sigh. ¡°Look, lad. I didn¡¯t want ye to get thrown out like that, but ye can¡¯t blame anyone but yerself. Certainly not me for returning yer shoddy work. I¡¯ll give ye a little something just to get ye away from my door. Yes?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need your pity!¡± Vidar spat, poking the much larger man in the gut. Hjalmar¡¯s face darkened, and before Vidar knew what was going on, he landed on the snow-covered cobblestones with a painful thud. The back of his head struck something solid. Vidar groaned and pointed up at Hjalmar. ¡°That¡¯s it! Guards! Guards!¡± ¡°Look at ye, ya bastard! Who do ye think the constabulary will listen to?¡± Hjalmar bellowed, now equally incensed. ¡°They¡¯ll haul ye to jail!¡± People stopped to watch what the commotion was about. Vidar¡¯s thin layer of clothing quickly grew damp in the snow. He got his feet under him and stood, brushing sleet off himself with increasingly numb fingers. If he didn¡¯t get out of the cold soon, things would take a turn for the worse. Still, he persisted. ¡°Don¡¯t make me get physical!¡± Hjalmar, that bastard, chuckled just as a trio of guardsmen pushed through the gathering crowd of onlookers. They rushed up to the short set of stairs leading to Hjalmar¡¯s door. ¡°What is going on here?¡± the foremost one barked. His bloodshot gaze and purple nose spoke of one with a near and dear relationship with liquor, but the short sword hanging on his hip and the heavy-looking iron medallion fastened to his chain mail tunic gave him all the authority he needed. ¡°Now you¡¯re in trouble!¡± Vidar shouted, stamping closer while ignoring the wetness creeping into his boots. ¡°Guards, arrest this man!¡± The guard¡¯s tired eyes swiveled to Vidar for the briefest moment before he turned to Hjalmar. ¡°Is this hoodlum bothering you?¡± Vidar furrowed his brow and shouted, ¡°What?¡± Hjalmar looked past the guard and gave Vidar a disappointed shake of his head. ¡°Ye brought this on yerself, lad.¡± He then turned to the guard, pointing at Vidar. ¡°The boy is harassing me, trying to get silver for imagined slights.¡± ¡°You owe me!¡± Vidar said, taking a step past one of the guards who had yet to speak. This one didn¡¯t look much better than the one taking the lead. A fist came out of nowhere and struck Vidar straight in the belly, doubling him over and sending him back down to the ground to roll in the snow. For a brief moment, Vidar thought something inside him broke, because it was impossible to breathe. When he finally managed a ragged breath, what little he¡¯d eaten that day gushed out. The guard who¡¯d punched him looked down at him in disgust and raised a foot before pressing it down on Vidar¡¯s side. Pain blossomed in Vidar¡¯s midsection, and he wordlessly cried out. ¡°Now wait a moment,¡± he heard Hjalmar say. ¡°Get back inside, citizen!¡± one of the guards barked, pushing Hjalmar back into his house. ¡°The Crown will deal with this miscreant!¡± Click. That bastard even locked the door behind him. At that moment, Vidar didn¡¯t care. The crunching in his body from that boot muted all other sounds in his mind. Pain surged throughout his body, and his face was still covered in that ever-present snow. Away. He needed to get away. He looked up and forward and reached an arm out, attempting to crawl. ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t.¡± The boot pressed down harder. Vidar¡¯s vision spun, and he felt the need to puke again. Someone laughed and then several onlookers jeered. A different sound broke through his daze. Steps. Many fast steps by quick feet getting nearer. ¡°Urgh,¡± the one standing above him said. The boot disappeared as the fat man¡¯s leg bent enough for all that weight to come crashing down right next to Vidar. An arrow stuck out of the back of his knee. A small, cold hand grasped Vidar¡¯s still-outstretched left hand. ¡°Come quick!¡± Vidar let himself be pulled to his feet as the other two guards swore, pulled their weapons out of their sheaths, and approached to help their fallen friend. People were shouting now, but Vidar ignored them. The act of standing up required all the will he could muster, and his first step almost made him give up then and there. Everything hurt. Then someone wrapped an arm around his shoulder to help him along, and Vidar thought he saw double. It¡¯d been a girl who pulled him to his feet. Now there were two of her, looking exactly the same. No, he thought, blinking. The second one wore a thick scarf around her neck. ¡°Hurry up, dummy!¡± the one pulling him along urged as she stashed away a small bow by threading it over her head. She looked back then, her large eyes widening even further. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°What?¡± Vidar mumbled, too groggy to comprehend what was going on with all these doppelgangers helping him. The nearest guardsman was closing on their hobbled walk, and Vidar shook his head violently to clear it. He gritted his teeth and managed a little more speed, just enough to stay out of the guard¡¯s outstretched sword. The guard was put off balance and slipped on a patch of ice, going down to the cobblestones. Unfortunately, he did not impale himself on his weapon. ¡°Hey, Siv, it¡¯s not Bjorn!¡± The one half carrying him turned her face to Vidar, then furrowed her brow. She turned back to the one pulling him along, who had to be her sister, and let out a short, guttural noise while giving the first girl a determined look. ¡°Fine,¡± the girl up front sighed. ¡°Come along then, stranger. Better hurry, or they¡¯ll catch us!¡± Each step was a little easier than the one preceding it, and the small group of three outpaced the larger men, if barely. He was soon able to make do without the two girls propping him up. ¡°We¡¯re going to sharply turn right soon, stranger,¡± the scarf-less girl shouted. ¡°Be ready.¡± ¡°What?¡± Vidar asked, looking over his shoulder. He shouldn¡¯t have done that. Something frozen and covered with snow blocked his foot and made him trip, sending him to the cold, hard ground for the third time. His surprised yell abruptly stopped when his face landed in the snow. Clawing at the ground to get up on his hands and feet, Vidar turned to look behind him once more at the quickly approaching guards. The two girls ran in place a little further down the street. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Vidar glanced at them, then peered back as he got to his feet. He blinked, confused. ¡°Lytir?¡± A peculiar vagrant who frequented the street where his family lived. Vidar would often stop and talk to him, and would occasionally bring a bit of food to the man, along with a book or two. He hadn¡¯t been there a second earlier, but now Lytir lounged against the wall of a tanner¡¯s workshop, his legs stretched out before him despite the snow.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Both guardsmen tripped on the vagrant¡¯s outstretched legs; one at a time they all fell again. They shouted and swore, but Vidar didn¡¯t stay to listen. ¡°Took you long enough!¡± the girl said once Vidar caught up. ¡°Get in!¡± When she¡¯d said sharp turn, the girl had meant it. It wasn¡¯t a street, not even close. A narrow gap between two houses continued on as far as he could see. ¡°You want us to go in there?¡± he asked. The guards were up on their feet again and were racing toward them. Instead of answering, the girl shoved Vidar in. He had to go sideways, with his face almost touching the cold stone of the house wall, or he wouldn¡¯t fit at all. Crab-walking like that was slow going, but he soon cleared enough room for one of the girls to follow behind, then the third. The three of them were breathing hard, but this was not the time to stop. One of the guards showed up in the gap and tried pushing himself between the houses to no avail. He was too big. Instead, he reached in, narrowly missing the last girl¡¯s sleeve with the tip of his fingers. If he¡¯d stabbed with his sword, the cold metal would have reached far enough for a killing thrust. ¡°Get back here!¡± the guard yelled. No one answered him. The guard swore. ¡°Go around!¡± ¡°There¡¯s no way we can get away fast enough through here,¡± Vidar said through ragged breath. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± the girl said. ¡°I¡¯m worried.¡± A hand appeared on his shoulder and squeezed. ¡°Just keep at it. My sister and I don¡¯t get caught. Ever. There are many narrow gaps like this around here. This one goes on and on with plenty of ways out if you¡¯re small enough. Good thing you¡¯re so tiny.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not that small,¡± Vidar grunted. ¡°Small and looks like an imp.¡± The girl giggled. ¡°Doesn¡¯t he?¡± Vidar felt the question was directed at the girl¡¯s sister, but he answered anyway. ¡°I¡¯m a man. Don¡¯t even know what an imp is.¡± He kept walking until the girl tapped him and gestured to the side, where a slightly wider gap opened up. Vidar turned, finally feeling like the buildings weren¡¯t pressing down on his chest anymore, like he could breathe in the cold air properly. ¡°What¡¯s your name, girl?¡± The girl pointed at her face. An earnest one, Vidar thought. It was dirty and framed by hair dark enough to look black. Her nose was a little too large for her narrow face, and her eyes were too far apart. ¡°I¡¯m Ida.¡± Ida pointed at the other girl who¡¯d yet to say a single word. ¡°This is Siv, my sister. She doesn¡¯t talk.¡± ¡°Vidar,¡± Vidar said, eyeing Siv. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t she talk?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a polite question.¡± The wider gap between buildings made it so the wind constantly blew through, making the sweat on Vidar¡¯s back icy cold. He shuddered and hugged himself, noticing how his fingers were a deep purple. That couldn¡¯t be good. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you wearing any clothes?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a shirt on,¡± Vidar grunted, peering over Ida¡¯s shoulder to make sure the guards weren¡¯t following. ¡°Outside clothes, dummy. Even a boy like you should know to dress for the weather, no?¡± ¡°Told you, I¡¯m a man. Also, I was robbed. A ruffian stole my coat and my silver two days ago.¡± Just the mention of losing his money made Vidar¡¯s stomach rumble. Finding food when you didn¡¯t have money was quite the challenge, he¡¯d realized. ¡°That¡¯s no good,¡± Ida said, looking at her sister. Siv shook her head and made another grunting sound, agreeing. ¡°Do you have any food?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°We don¡¯t carry food around with us. How about a thank-you for saving you?¡± ¡°At least jail would have been warm,¡± Vidar complained. Ida chuckled. ¡°You don¡¯t know much, do you?¡± Vidar¡¯s face grew warm despite the cold. ¡°And you do?¡± Siv grabbed her sister¡¯s coat sleeve, pulling on it. ¡°I know we have to go,¡± Ida said to her sister before turning to Vidar. ¡°Look, we thought you were someone else, or we wouldn¡¯t have helped you. Running from those guards is no biggie, but tussling with them? That we try and steer clear of doing.¡± Siv shook her face gravely. ¡°Thank you,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Slow to follow, are you? What I¡¯m saying is, you look and talk and do stuff like you don¡¯t have a clue. Why are you out here looking like this? Did the robber take your map back home or something?¡± ¡°No,¡± Vidar grumbled. ¡°Then what are you doing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not polite to ask,¡± Vidar said. Ida raised an eyebrow in a questioning look that made her appear wise beyond her years. ¡°If you can go home, you should, is all I¡¯m saying.¡± Vidar stamped his feet, trying to regain some feeling in his toes. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± She gave him a searching look, then turned to her sister. ¡°What do you think? Do we bring him?¡± ¡°Bring?¡± Vidar asked. He would love to be brought. Anywhere was better than here. Ida ignored him, giving all attention to her sister. Siv looked from Ida to Vidar, then back again. Vidar felt his whole future hanging in the balance and did his utmost to appear harmless and friendly, giving her a toothy smile. Her large, wet eyes regarded him for the longest time before giving the tiniest of nods. ¡°Guess you¡¯re coming,¡± Ida said. A guard shouted somewhere nearby and Ida¡¯s gaze darted, seemingly in all directions at once. ¡°We better go.¡± ¡°Where are we going?¡± Vidar asked, hurrying after, back into the narrow pathway between houses. ¡°East.¡± He blinked and swallowed to suppress a sudden wave of nausea. ¡°East? You¡¯re not taking me to Andersburg, are you?¡± She didn¡¯t even turn around to look at him. ¡°Mhm.¡± ¡°R-rat Town?¡± That made her chuckle. ¡°Wow, you really are new to this. Where did you think we¡¯d be taking you, the keep? Want to get all snuggly with the prince himself?¡± ¡°But that place is dangerous!¡± They all stopped to listen for a moment. Hearing nothing, Ida must have felt safe enough to stop and talk. ¡°Look at our clothes and face, then look at yours. Dirty. Rat Town is safe enough if you know your way around. Stick with us and you¡¯ll be fine, boy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m twenty-two,¡± Vidar grumbled. ¡°Also, there is no prince in the keep.¡± ¡°What do you mean, there¡¯s no prince?¡± Ida looked shocked. Vidar shook his head, not understanding her reaction. ¡°This is Halmstadt. No one from the royal family lives here. There¡¯s a steward assigned to our city on behalf of some duke or another.¡± Ida looked ready to cry. ¡°How are we supposed to rob a prince if there¡¯s none here?¡± She looked over Vidar¡¯s shoulder to Siv. ¡°Did you know? You didn¡¯t, did you?¡± The gap was barely wide enough for Vidar to be able to turn his head to see Siv shaking her head violently. Frustration warred with disappointment on the mute girl¡¯s face. Perplexed, Vidar spoke slowly. ¡°If you want to rob a prince, and it¡¯s not something I¡¯d advise, you need to travel to the capital, Stalheim.¡± Ida narrowed her eyes. ¡°How far is that?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Vidar admitted. ¡°Weeks? It¡¯s all the way to the east, by the other end of the country somewhere.¡± He¡¯d seen maps and even helped copy them, but he never cared much about geography. Ida groaned. ¡°Forget it.¡± Then she narrowed her eyes. ¡°Wait. Did you say you¡¯re twenty-two years old?¡± He nodded. ¡°But you¡¯re so short.¡± ¡°Height has nothing to do with age!¡± His anger only made her laugh. ¡°You¡¯re my height and I¡¯m only fourteen!¡± Siv giggled behind him. Vidar spoke slowly through clenched teeth. ¡°Like I said?¡ª¡± ¡°We¡¯re just messing with you. It¡¯s a good thing you don¡¯t look your age, or we wouldn¡¯t be able to take you with us.¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°Embla would never allow it.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Embla? Your mother?¡± That set them both off again, and they kept breaking out into giggles for the longest time as they moved along one narrow path after another. Only when they emerged into the open street again did they quiet. Ida peered left, then right, then left again before waving for Vidar to follow. Vidar didn¡¯t have the first clue where in the city they were. Not in a part he¡¯d ever frequented, of that much he was sure. It was quickly getting dark, and he spotted several lurking figures on the street. The people hurrying in either direction on the street kept to themselves, and their furtive glances told Vidar it was best to stay away. A pack of four scrawny dogs rushed past, all of them barking and wagging their tails as they chased what looked like a hare. Even with the cold and the snow, the smell made his nose twitch. Ida must have caught it, because she patted his back. ¡°Welcome to Rat Town. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll get used to the smell in no time.¡± ¡°Thanks, I think.¡± Ida and Siv set off, walking side by side, and Vidar followed. She turned and winked at him. ¡°At least the guards rarely come to Andersburg.¡± As they walked past a side street, he caught the glint of metal in the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw the flash of a knife flourish that ended right by the eye of what Vidar thought was a beggar in tatters. A few coins exchanged hands and then the assailant was gone, all in the span it took for the three of them to pass by. Hurrying to catch up, Vidar shuddered, and not from the oppressive cold. ¡°How long until we¡¯re there?¡± ¡°Not far now.¡± The two girls walked along with almost a skip in their step, holding hands like they hadn¡¯t just entered the most dangerous part of Halmstadt. By the time they turned onto a different street for the third time, Vidar was hopelessly lost. It¡¯d take all night finding his way back if something went amiss. Not that he had anything to find his way back to. Hjalmar had been a long shot, even if it¡¯d felt good to shout at him some. Vidar would get his revenge on the man one of these days. He¡¯d show them all. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Ida said, gesturing for yet another side street. By then, it was full dark. ¡°Where¡¯s here?¡± Vidar asked, glancing suspiciously into the darkness. This could still be a trap or an ambush or something. ¡°If this part of town is called Rat Town, then this has to be the Rats¡¯ Nest,¡± Ida said, smiling. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a dark alley with run-down, single-story stone houses. Three thin wooden doors led into the side of each house. They didn¡¯t look like proper entrances, and by the way these parts of the houses protruded, Vidar thought they were shacks of some sort. ¡°This is you,¡± Ida said, banging on one of the doors. ¡°It¡¯s me. Open up!¡± The sound of shuffling feet rose from inside, heading for the door. ¡°See you tomorrow,¡± Ida said, giving him another wink. She headed for one of the other doors where Siv already waited, then stopped and turned back. ¡°If anyone asks, tell them you¡¯re sixteen, yes?¡± Vidar shrugged. ¡°Very well.¡± The strangeness of the situation, coupled with the eerie silence hanging over the nearby streets, set him on edge. What sort of strange situation had he stumbled into? That¡¯s when the door flung open and almost struck Vidar¡¯s face. A sullen-looking boy of perhaps nine years peered out. ¡°Who¡¯re you, then?¡± ¡°Shut the door!¡± someone yelled from within the dark room. ¡°You¡¯re letting the cold in!¡± ¡°I¡¯m Vidar. Ida invited me.¡± The boy glanced around the dark street, but Ida and Siv were already gone. Then he shrugged and stepped aside and lifted up his coat to show the hilt of a knife stuck down his pants. ¡°Come on, then. Just don¡¯t get any funny ideas, you hear? I¡¯m deadly with the blade.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Vidar murmured. He stepped inside, and the door closed and locked behind him. The only light was the faint line coming from outside, the moon peeking through the empty lock. A hand pulled him down to the straw-covered dirt floor and then to the side so he touched the stone wall. Someone shoved a blanket into his hand. ¡°You can use this.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Vidar said, wrapping the threadbare cloth around him before leaning against the wall. In the darkness, he couldn¡¯t make out how many people slept all around him, or even how large the room was. In that moment, he didn¡¯t care. It was warm. That was enough. In Vidar¡¯s exhausted state, sleep took him almost straight away. Chapter 2
The door slammed open, startling Vidar awake with a gasp. Cold air rushed in to fill the tiny room in an instant, waking all those who dwelled within. To his surprise, there were twelve boys all in all, sleeping all over the floor of the tiny, unfurnished room. They huddled together in piles under threadbare blankets. Only Vidar sat half-upright against the wall by himself. He¡¯d been dreaming of his old bed, with its thick covers and the heat rune glimmering on the wall. No matter the weather and temperature outside, his room was always perfect. Except it was his room no longer. He grunted and rubbed at his eyes, half blinded by the light coming from outside. It wasn¡¯t fully light out, not yet, but the difference from the pitch-black darkness of the room was enough to hurt his eyes momentarily. When they grew used to the change, he pointed and screamed. ¡°You!¡± ¡°Shuuuut uuup,¡± someone complained from one of the piles. ¡°Just a few more minutes,¡± a second boy groaned. The tall, broad young man who¡¯d opened the door gave Vidar a uninterested glance, then shouted into the room. ¡°Whoever isn¡¯t up and ready in five minutes goes without food! Embla¡¯s orders!¡± Just the mention of food was almost enough to make Vidar jump into line with the others hurrying outside. Almost. ¡°You stole my coat! Where is it?¡± The lad, a rough-looking teenager with a scar on his left cheek, and a cut on his right that had yet to heal, lowered the hood of his warm-looking, if worn, coat. ¡°Who¡¯re you?¡± Vidar gaped. ¡°You don¡¯t remember? You stole all my money and my damn coat two days ago!¡± ¡°Oh?¡± A decidedly unfriendly smile crept across the assailant¡¯s face. ¡°Now I remember. How¡¯s the lip?¡± It was still a little swollen. Worse now after taking that beating from the guardsmen. ¡°Give me back my coat! I don¡¯t care about the silver, just the coat!¡± The others stopped to stare, a whole bunch of boys of varying ages. The youngest couldn¡¯t have been more than seven years old. This man, the ruffian, was the oldest one of the bunch. ¡°It¡¯s a nice coat and the nights are cold. What¡¯ll you give me for it?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not even using it!¡± Ida and Siv emerged from a door farther down the street, followed by some other girls. None of them were as young as the youngest boy, but Vidar doubted any had seen more than the fourteen years claimed by Ida. Emboldened by their appearance, Vidar pressed his luck with a bluff, putting one hand in his pocket and taking a threatening stance. ¡°I have a knife.¡± The thug drew a long, slightly crooked knife with no handguard from his coat. ¡°So do I.¡± Vidar swallowed hard as his gaze fixed on one of the many spots of rust on the dirty blade. He definitely did not want that thing anywhere near him. ¡°Then we¡¯re at a stalemate, aren¡¯t we?¡± ¡°You think?¡± the thug asked, taking a step forward. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Torbjorn,¡± Ida said, stepping in between them with Siv at her heel. ¡°You know what Embla thinks of stealing and robbing.¡± A wave of relief washed over Vidar, but he did his utmost not to show it as he stepped back. Torbjorn grunted and flicked his wrist, and suddenly the knife was nowhere to be seen. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just return the coat and keep the coin?¡± Ida asked. ¡°That way, no one risks taking a blade to the ribs before breakfast.¡± She stepped up in front of Vidar, and Siv gave him an encouraging nod. Torbjorn glared over Ida¡¯s shoulder at Vidar, but then finally relented. ¡°Fine.¡± He walked around the corner and returned within a minute, holding the coat. Vidar¡¯s teeth were chattering from the intense cold, and he greedily snatched it from the ruffian¡¯s outstretched hand. With it wrapped around him, and with the small sliver of a brighter sky visible between the roofs of the buildings around the narrow alley, things were starting to look up again. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Torbjorn barked, but Vidar refused to thank the man for returning something he¡¯d stolen after giving Vidar his life¡¯s first beatdown. Ida eyed the coat, a glimmer of jealousy shining in her gaze. ¡°That is a nice coat.¡± It really was. Tailored to fit Vidar¡¯s small build and carefully crafted to make sure no heat escaped. Even with the dirt stains covering the gray and brown fabric, and the new blotch of dried blood on one of the sleeves, it was leagues beyond what the others were wrapping around their thin, huddled frames. ¡°Thank you. It was a present,¡± Vidar said, his stomach rumbling. ¡°You mentioned something about breakfast?¡± Ida awarded him a crooked smile and nodded for him to follow the rest of the group as they trudged together as one out onto the wider thoroughfare, going straight through Andersburg. Even with the coat on, the cold was almost too much to bear. Icy wind whipped through his hair and the sleet easily bested his boots¡¯ ability to stave off the wet. If not for the shape of the other younger boys and girls, he¡¯d complain. Now, he swallowed those complaints in favor of focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. By the time they¡¯d made it to their destination, his toes were starting to go numb. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors rushed back and forth in the early morning. What they were in such a hurry to get to, he didn¡¯t have a clue. Some surely held on to simple occupations, but most inhabitants in this part of town lived off of the generosity of the Crown, the clergy, or from stealing and begging, he was sure. In this cold, very few would sit on some corner with a sign, pretending to be blind or sick for people to throw them scraps. The one exception Vidar knew of was Lytir. No matter how cold, he¡¯d lounge on the street somewhere near Vidar¡¯s father¡¯s house, reading a book or ridiculing passersby. How that man kept himself alive was anyone¡¯s guess. Once, when Vidar was much younger, he¡¯d asked the vagrant how he got food when he never begged for it like the others. Lytir just laughed and told Vidar he didn¡¯t get hungry or cold, then started in on some story about bears sleeping in caves. Vidar walked into someone¡¯s back and snapped back to the moment at hand. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Ida said as one of the other girls opened a door to what looked like an abandoned barn. The inside was one large, single room. The floor was straw-covered hard mud, but a few benches stood haphazardly near the walls where open flame torches burned merrily, giving some semblance of light. Food waited for them in the middle of the room, a large cauldron with a fire going under it, on a slightly raised platform of stone. ¡°Don¡¯t you people have any light or warmth runes?¡± Vidar asked, shuffling into the room behind a pair of young boys with red hair, a rare color in most of Sveland. In this town, Halmstadt, you could occasionally see colors other than brown or black, since they were near the border to Dennerland in the southwest, where many looked like their heads were on fire with that red hair of theirs, and Noriland, where lighter shades were common. ¡°Runes? Look around you, newcomer,¡± one of the redheaded boys squeaked. ¡°Does it look like we¡¯re swimming in gold?¡± ¡°They¡¯re¡­ expensive?¡± Vidar asked. He hadn¡¯t really thought about it. Light and warmth runes were common enough in the houses he visited when delivering books and maps for his father, and they certainly weren¡¯t lacking in his father¡¯s house. The hoodlums just shook their heads at him in disbelief. That confirmed it, runes were expensive. At least to those living under these sorts of conditions. Vidar thought about buying a warmth rune to stick under his coat the very first night he spent away from home, but soon realized it would be like using the thick paper and luxurious ink for a children¡¯s tale. They always ended up torn to pieces by small hands, no matter the material. One warmth rune would not last him long before running out of essence, much less the entire winter, even if he bought one from a master rune scribe, and even he knew those would be prohibitively expensive. ¡°If you¡¯re so rich, why don¡¯t you buy us some of those runes, then?¡± a girl asked, her voice shrill and loud as she spoke over the sound of people filling their bowls with the contents of the cauldron, a thick gruel. ¡°What are runes?¡± a boy asked, peering over the rim of a cup. Vidar didn¡¯t pay them any mind. He was busy trying to reach for some food himself. After finally snatching up the ladle to dump some of the gray mess that bubbled merrily in the cauldron, and a cup of cold water, Vidar looked around for a free spot on a bench near one of the torches. None were free. He¡¯d been too slow. Torbjorn¡¯s deep voice sounded over the hubbub. He sat by the torch farthest from the door. ¡°The new boy has not worked. He should not eat.¡± ¡°He¡¯ll work today,¡± Ida said, her mouth full of bread. ¡°Work?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°You don¡¯t eat and sleep for free anymore, newcomer,¡± someone in the throng said. ¡°You don¡¯t have anyone to wipe your ass for you anymore,¡± another added. A boy near the entrance coughed in his hand to hide another jeer. ¡°Rich boy!¡± Talking back after that stupid comment while wearing a coat obviously more luxurious than anything they would be able to afford did not seem like it would be in Vidar¡¯s best interest, so he kept his mouth shut and ate. Despite the meager offerings, it tasted like a feast, and the water soothed his parched throat like the finest of wines. Without warning, they began shuffling out into the cold again and Vidar hurriedly shoveled the last bit of gruel into his mouth and emptied his cup. Ida walked up front with her ever-present, silent sister at her side. He hurried up to them, buttoning his coat to keep his body heat from escaping. Heavy snow drifted down from the sky. What a terrible time to be without proper warmth. ¡°What kind of work do you, we, do? How much does it pay?¡± Her tousled hair quickly collected flakes of snow. A few fell to her shoulders as she whipped her head back and forth, like a dog trying to dry off after swimming. ¡°We all do different jobs depending on what we¡¯re suited to.¡± Siv gave Ida a quick shove and pouted. ¡°You¡¯re right, Siv. Not all jobs we get are suited to us, but we take what we can get. Embla decides, and if you don¡¯t like it, you don¡¯t eat and you don¡¯t sleep that day.¡± ¡°Harsh,¡± Vidar said. Ida shrugged. ¡°It is what it is.¡± Torbjorn was walking nearby, and he grunted. ¡°We don¡¯t get paid.¡± Vidar looked back at him, then to Ida. ¡°Is that true?¡± ¡°The work we do only covers the cost of our food and the rooms we sleep in.¡± ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± Vidar muttered. ¡°What jobs do you two do?¡± ¡°Usually, Embla sends us to a seamstress shop where we help make a bunch of pants and trousers. That¡¯s why our fingers look like this.¡± She pulled her glove off and shoved the tips of her fingers in Vidar¡¯s face. They were covered with healed, and not so healed, pinpricks. ¡°It¡¯s not so bad, though. Sometimes she gives us clothes that someone made a mistake on. She even gave us these!¡± Ida pulled up her pant legs and lifted her foot to show a thick-looking sock. Siv mimicked her sister, showing a similar wool sock over a skinny, incredibly pale leg. ¡°Clothes are nice and all, but how do you buy things if you don¡¯t make any money?¡± Ida¡¯s face reddened. ¡°Like Torbjorn.¡± ¡°You rob people?¡± Torbjorn laughed mirthlessly. ¡°My sister and I aren¡¯t intimidating enough for that, and we¡¯re too big now to pick pockets effectively, so we found someone who agreed to teach us how to pick locks and jimmy open windows.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re burglars?¡± Vidar frowned. ¡°This one really has no clue, eh?¡± Torbjorn asked, pushing Vidar aside to take the front of the line before turning onto a new, smaller street. Ida followed and turned back to shrug her narrow shoulders. ¡°Only when we have to. It¡¯s survival, you know?¡± They stopped by a door to a two-story house that wasn¡¯t quite as run-down as the ones surrounding it. The windows on the bottom floor glowed yellow from the light within. By then, the sun was almost up, but the light still gave the place an inviting air, like Vidar and the others were expected. Torbjorn banged on a surprisingly sturdy front door. The dull thuds spoke of a thickness to the wood that¡¯d been severely lacking in the shack the others called home, and in the barn where they ate. Heavy footsteps approached the door on the inside. Ida pulled on Vidar¡¯s arm and leaned in to whisper into his ear. ¡°Those who don¡¯t follow the law are thrown out by Embla. Don¡¯t tell her anything.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t know?¡± ¡°I think she knows that most of us here have¡±¡ªshe cleared her throat¡ª¡°interesting activities other than work, but as long as we¡¯re not caught, she doesn¡¯t care. If someone catches you, you¡¯re on your own.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not planning on breaking the law,¡± Vidar said as the door opened on smooth, silent hinges, before following the others inside. Ida spoke from behind, her voice partially drowned out by the chatter of the young boys and girls excitedly trying to enter the house all at once. ¡°You think any of us planned for this?¡± Chapter 3
A set of stairs leading up to the second floor faced the front door, but everyone veered left into a large sitting room where rough wooden benches lined the walls. Fire danced in a fireplace by the right wall, giving plenty of warmth. Lanterns with burning candles hung above the benches, placed high enough that those seated below didn¡¯t need to worry about hitting their heads on the simple metal fixtures. The main feature of the room was a sizable wooden desk that actually appeared to have been crafted by someone who knew what they were doing. With treated, oil-darkened wood and sanded-down surfaces, it wouldn¡¯t have been out of place in his father¡¯s office. Behind it sat a thin woman with blond hair in a thick braid resting over her left shoulder, blue eyes with dark rings under them, and a stern expression on her face. The small nose and thin lips did little to liven up her expression, and the way she sat with a very straight back reminded him of a teacher who would accept no nonsense from anyone. He was familiar with the type. ¡°Embla?¡± he whispered to the boy to his left, one of the redheaded lads. The young woman immediately turned to him, her gaze as stiff as her back. ¡°You are new.¡± Her voice was surprisingly soft. Still, it carried through the room, and everyone immediately fell silent. ¡°I am,¡± Vidar confirmed, doing his best to hold eye contact without fidgeting. Ida raised her hand. ¡°I brought him.¡± ¡°Ate our food,¡± one of the urchins muttered. ¡°A rich boy,¡± someone else added. A few of the younger boys and girls giggled. Embla silenced the room with a look, then focused back on Vidar with a searching look. ¡°How old are you?¡± ¡°Sixteen.¡± ¡°Name?¡± ¡°Vidar.¡± ¡°You have not been one of us for long, judging by your clothing. What brings you here, Vidar?¡± The intense attention from this blond stick and her questions made Vidar¡¯s eye twitch and put some heat into his words. ¡°Why do you care?¡± One of the girls gasped and several others started squirming in their seats. Ida shot him a warning look. Embla¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°I am the organizer here in our little nest. You ate our food, which means you owe me a day¡¯s work. If I don¡¯t know anything about you, then how can I assign you a task for the day? Perhaps you¡¯d enjoy collecting frozen cow dung outside the gate?¡± That prospect did not sound thrilling. ¡°I¡¯m a scribe.¡± ¡°A scribe would not have any need of my services,¡± Embla said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Not a very good scribe,¡± Vidar admitted. He glared at the others in the room, daring them to laugh. ¡°But you can read?¡± ¡°Of course I can read.¡± ¡°Aside from me, I suspect you¡¯re the only one in this room who can.¡± Vidar looked around, seeing some sullen glares and uncomfortable looks. Only Ida and Siv seemed to think the whole thing amusing, considering the badly suppressed laughs they were trying to hide. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Unfortunately, we don¡¯t get many assignments with that requirement, but I do have one.¡± Torbjorn suddenly burst out laughing and Embla shot him a look of irritation. ¡°Torbjorn, you know your assignment.¡± Torbjorn¡¯s laugh shifted into a giggle as he moved to leave. He said something, but Vidar didn¡¯t quite make it out. He thought it sounded like shit goblin, but that couldn¡¯t be right. Once the big lout was gone, Embla looked at the others. ¡°Ida, Siv. Seamstress.¡± ¡°Yes, Embla,¡± Ida said, pulling her sister along. She shot a grin Vidar¡¯s way as they left. ¡°See you tonight.¡± ¡°Torkel, Johan, Knytt. You¡¯ll be helping Haraldson with cleaning the barracks today. You know where to go?¡± ¡°Yes, Embla.¡± It continued like that for a few minutes, with Embla reading off a list and assigning tasks. All of them were rather mundane, unskilled labor, but that was to be expected in a place like this. Not much room for specialization. Most of the room cleared out. Only Vidar and three other boys remained. They all looked to be older, but not quite of an age with Torbjorn. One of the remaining boys spoke up when Embla let the silence settle. ¡°Are we digging graves again?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± They started shuffling out of the room, but Embla stopped them. ¡°Hold on a moment, boys.¡± ¡°There is a job that keeps landing in my lap that pays a little better than most,¡± she said, turning to Vidar. ¡°And you won¡¯t be out in the cold doing it.¡± That got his attention. ¡°That means I¡¯ll get money, not just stale bread, bean paste, and suspect cheese?¡± Embla¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°No. It means you and your new friends can get a little more food and some thicker blankets. We all work together here.¡± ¡°What did you eat this fine morning?¡± Vidar asked. Embla kept her face neutral but did not answer. Instead, she asked, ¡°Do you want to hear about this job or not?¡± ¡°Fine.¡± ¡°It requires navigating using a map and following guided markers underground.¡± He frowned. ¡°Underground?¡± ¡°The water and offal systems both run underneath our feet. Your job would be to traverse these pathways and clear reported blockages.¡± ¡°Our drinking water runs parallel with everyone¡¯s shit?¡± ¡°It does. Kept separate, as I understand it, but not by much.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve never been down there?¡± he asked, nodding to the papers before her on the desk. ¡°You are obviously able to read.¡± ¡°I¡¯m too big.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°That ¡®what¡¯ makes finding someone for this so difficult. The entrances are quite narrow. Whoever takes it upon themselves to go down there must be small, short, and like I said, able to read and follow a map.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not that small,¡± Vidar muttered. The three boys waiting to leave all chuckled. Vidar eyed them but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°So what are the downsides? It sounds a simple enough task.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll smell like shit!¡± one of the boys blurted, then he eyed Embla nervously and shut his mouth. ¡°What?¡± Vidar asked. Embla closed her eyes and rubbed at her temple. ¡°The smell down there is reportedly not pleasant, and the odor¡­¡± She paused briefly. ¡°Lingers.¡± ¡°Torbjorn did say shit goblin!¡± ¡°It¡¯s what we called the last boy who went down there. Bjorn the Shit Goblin was foul!¡± that first boy said. Bjorn. That was the name Ida mentioned. Another added, ¡°We all hated that boy, made it impossible to sleep. The whole shack smelled like poo!¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Boys,¡± Embla said, exasperation dripping from her tone of voice. ¡°Well, it¡¯s true!¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Vidar said, narrowing his eyes. ¡°Those blockages. Are they made from shit?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°No?¡± Embla sighed. ¡°Corpses, mostly.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°The water intakes are all by the sea. Many of our city¡¯s less fortunate cannot afford funerals with the church, so they dump their loved ones. Similarly, the guild, and many others, often dispose of their victims into pits that lead directly to the sewer mains.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Vidar muttered. ¡°You get to go through their pockets before you remove them,¡± Embla offered. ¡°And keep what I find?¡± ¡°Half of what you find.¡± ¡°And you get the other half?¡± She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± One of the boys snickered. ¡°Shit goblin.¡± ¡°Stop that,¡± Embla said, shaking her head in disappointment. ¡°It does not sound like an opportunity for me,¡± Vidar said. That was putting it mildly. Very little about that this arrangement made sense. Unpaid labor made all these young boys and girls little better than slaves. ¡°You ate our food. You owe us a day¡¯s labor. Then you may leave and do whatever suits your fancy, little boy,¡± Embla said. ¡°If you wish, you may go with these fine young men here and dig graves in the frozen ground for the church of the fallen angels.¡± Vidar looked between the stern girl and the three boys. ¡°You mentioned a boy going down there to work. What happened to him?¡± ¡°One day, he went down into the system and did not return,¡± Embla said simply. ¡°He just vanished?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°The shadow men took him,¡± one of the boys said. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Vidar asked, eyes widening. Embla shook her head and suddenly looked very tired. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just a legend the older boys use to scare the little ones.¡± ¡°Nu-uh,¡± the boy said. ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard? A bunch of people have seen them! Shadows walking around by themselves!¡± ¡°Have you seen one?¡± Embla asked. ¡°Well, no.¡± She turned to Vidar. ¡°Superstition. At your age, you should know better. The boy simply exited the system somewhere else and decided not to return here with my lantern. Or key.¡± ¡°Lantern?¡± ¡°It¡¯s dark down there in most places, so you have to bring a runelight. The boy probably sold it while the rune still retained some of its power. Cost us a lot to replace it.¡± ¡°Why not a regular lantern, then?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°You used regular lanterns in the barn thing where you served the slop.¡± Embla gave him a sharp look. ¡°It¡¯s what we can afford. Fire is not recommended down there. Something about the air itself catching fire.¡± Vidar¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°The excrement does something to the air. I didn¡¯t ask for an explanation.¡± She held out a folded piece of paper to him. ¡°Do you want the job or not?¡± He took it and opened what turned out to be a map of the southeastern part of the city. The building they were standing in, Embla¡¯s house, was clearly marked. Arrows pointed to two other points on the map. One was in an alley and the other was in the middle of a street. Instructions were written next to the origin of the arrows. The letters danced before his eyes, gliding this way and that, some even trading places. Vidar squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. It helped. A little. ¡°What is this?¡± he asked. ¡°A map, clearly. The instructions are where you are to descend and how you should navigate to find the most likely location of the blockages. This is an easy job compared to most. As long as you follow the directions, you won¡¯t get lost down there.¡± Vidar cleared his throat and looked away while handing the map back. ¡°No, thank you.¡± ¡°No?¡± Embla asked. ¡°Disappearing into the dark is not something I¡¯m prepared to risk,¡± Vidar replied. ¡°Even if everything works as you say, I¡¯ll always smell like shit. I might be down on my luck at the moment, but I¡¯ve not fallen so far as to roll around in the muck with the pigs.¡± ¡°Grave digging it is,¡± Embla said, her face betraying no emotion. Vidar followed the three boys out into the cold. They were all taller than him despite their young years, and they sped through the falling snow with such speed that he had to half run to keep pace and not lose them in the winding streets. The biting chill mercilessly stung his bare hands and face, but at least he had his coat. ¡°Hey, where are we going?¡± he shouted at their backs. One of them turned around briefly to gesture toward at a pointy structure rising over the rooftops in the distance. A church. Smoke rose nearby, and when they drew close, a blazing fire roared near the ancient stone structure. The tightly packed houses made way for an open space where Vidar figured there¡¯d be grass under the snow. Bare trees dotted the short distance from the street to the entrance of the church, stretching their dead-looking black branches in all directions. A thin layer of snow covered everything. ¡°I¡¯m Sven,¡± the boy who¡¯d pointed said once they made it to their destination. The church towered up above them, but Vidar¡¯s eyes were fixed on the flames. Two men with bent backs and gray beards kept fueling the fire with what looked like old pieces of broken furniture. ¡°Why the fire?¡± Vidar asked. A third man exited the church, this one a little younger. He wore a dark gray robe identifying him as a member of the clergy. The priest approached and handed each of the boys, and Vidar, a shovel. This new man was completely bald and his ears were red from the cold. From under the robes, a pair of bare feet pointed outward, the toes buried in the snow. The priest didn¡¯t speak a single word, but the fire in his gaze as he made a gesture, blessing them, made Vidar shiver. Sven struck the snow-covered ground with the end of his shovel. A metallic clang was the only result. ¡°Ice in the ground. The fire melts it so we can dig a little.¡± Vidar leaned in and spoke in a hoarse whisper. ¡°What is with that priest?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°His eyes. They looked like a madman¡¯s, and his feet were bare!¡± The boy shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re all like that. You get used to it. Haven¡¯t you ever seen a priest before?¡± ¡°My family was never very religious,¡± Vidar grunted. He¡¯d seen priests walking the street before, but never in winter and never this close. ¡°Don¡¯t say that out loud here or they¡¯ll have the fallen angels smite you!¡± the second young man said, looking around with wide eyes like a little boy. Vidar glanced at the priest¡¯s back. He¡¯d walked over to the men tending the fire to speak with them. ¡°What?¡± He giggled, and Sven gave him a shove. ¡°Erik is just messing with you. They don¡¯t smite people.¡± He looked thoughtful for a moment. ¡°At least, I¡¯ve never seen them do it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a comfort,¡± Vidar said. ¡°So, what do we do here?¡± ¡°We dig where they tell us to dig. After they put out the fire, that is.¡± ¡°And we just stand around until then? It¡¯s freezing here.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not allowed to step into the church hall.¡± Vidar futilely tried hiding his hands in the sleeves of his coat. They were too short to allow for it. Instead, he started walking. ¡°I¡¯m getting closer to the fire, at least.¡± A wind whipped up snow all around them and the three boys looked at each other, then followed. None of them wore anything warmer than what Vidar might have thrown on in late spring. Only Erik wore gloves. The third yet-unnamed boy wore an undyed wool hat pulled down over his ears. When they made it to the fire, the priest turned to walk off toward the entrance of the church, apparently finished with instructing the old men working for him. The old men eyed Vidar but said nothing when he approached and put his hands closer to the warmth. Only when the other boys dared approach did one of the old men speak, his voice a low rumble. ¡°It is hallowed ground you tread on, boys. Watch carefully where you step.¡± Vidar peered around at the area surrounding the bonfire. Thin wooden poles stuck out of the snow in neat rows all around the church. Some were rotted, while others looked new enough. Graves. ¡°We¡¯ll be careful,¡± he promised, looking behind him to see they¡¯d already passed by a few markers. Vidar stepped even closer, standing as near as he dared. Despite his proximity to the fire, the cold tore at him, leaving his back near enough frozen. ¡°How long until we can start digging?¡± he asked. The fire, their only source of heat, would be gone by then. How they were supposed to work all day without freezing to death was anyone¡¯s guess. To answer his question, the two men began shoveling snow into the fire, making it hiss and bubble. It didn¡¯t take long to put it out. ¡°Dig,¡± one of the men said. They then turned and lumbered off to disappear near the main entrance to the church. Vidar shuddered. ¡°How are we supposed to do this? One hole big enough for a person?¡± ¡°No,¡± Sven said, thrusting the shovel into the ground. It didn¡¯t penetrate far. ¡°We dig one big hole.¡± ¡°Then they come with a cart and we dump dead people in there,¡± Erik added. The unnamed boy barely got his shovel into the ground at all. Groaning, he added, ¡°Then we put the dirt on them.¡± ¡°Just one hole?¡± Sven shrugged and stomped on his shovel with the heel of his tattered boot. ¡°A big one.¡± The three boys set to digging and Vidar followed along as best he could, hoping to get some warmth into his frozen limbs by moving. It didn¡¯t work very well. With the fire having thawed some of the dirt, the first couple of inches were easy enough, but then it was like trying to shovel your way through solid stone. Increasingly frustrated, Vidar threw his shovel to the side. ¡°This is impossible!¡± The boys snickered. They were slowly, ever so slowly, making their way downward by prying loose bits of frozen ground. ¡°Why do you think we¡¯re here all day? If anyone else wanted to do this job for as little as us, do you think we¡¯d be here?¡± Erik said. ¡°It gets easier in a few hours once we¡¯re past the frozen ground.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be frozen solid myself by then,¡± Vidar grumbled, hiding his hands in his armpits to try getting some feeling back in them. ¡°You won¡¯t get food tomorrow if you don¡¯t work,¡± the unnamed boy said. The little urchin actually grinned at his own comment, like it was the most hilarious thing he¡¯d ever said. ¡°There has to be a better way of doing this,¡± Vidar said, looking around and spotting a small wooden door by the side of the church leading into the building. He pointed. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s where the cart with the dead ones is kept while we work.¡± Vidar trudged over, picked up the shovel, and brushed off the snow. ¡°There must be a pickaxe or something in there. Anything to make this ordeal a little more bearable. If the old men return, tell them I went to take a piss somewhere.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not allowed in the church!¡± Sven said, raising his voice. Vidar turned back and gave a grin of his own. ¡°You only spoke about the church hall. That door, I¡¯m betting, doesn¡¯t lead into the main hall!¡± He ignored their protests and walked over to the side of the church. After checking both directions and then glancing back at the boys, who¡¯d resumed their digging, Vidar reached over and pulled on the door, only then noticing a heavy padlock. By all appearances, it¡¯d hung there since the beginning of time. Vidar drew back and whacked the metal with the flat of his shovel. It didn¡¯t make that sound of metal slamming against metal, and the shovel almost flew out of his hands. Vidar yelped and fell back into the snow, spotting a brief, bluish glimmer around the padlock. ¡°Dragon¡¯s dung! What was that?¡± he asked no one, getting back on his feet. The obstacle only made him more determined to get in, and for his second blow, Vidar spun and stepped in to deliver as much force as he could muster, turning the shovel to hit with the side rather than the flat of it. That blue sheen returned, then flickered as he saw the shovel strike something right in front of the metal, something invisible. Whatever that thing was, it could no longer withstand Vidar¡¯s mighty blows. The third strike broke through and struck the metal with a loud clank. Force transferred from the end of the shovel, up the wooden handle, and then into his hands, arms, and shoulders. A jolt of pain made him drop the instrument of smashing, but after bending over to pick it back up, he whooped in triumph. The padlock hung open. ¡°I am unstoppable,¡± he whispered to himself. Chapter 4
Before anyone had a chance to catch him, Vidar removed the lock and put it in his coat pocket. There was no way for him to put it back in place after he¡¯d entered, and he didn¡¯t want to yell loud enough for one of the boys to hear him so they could do it for him. With the wind, it was just as likely that the old men or the priest might hear. Vidar slipped inside. Light streamed in from a slit window in the stone he hadn¡¯t noticed from the outside. It wasn¡¯t much, barely enough to see by. Despite the poor visibility, it was apparent he hadn¡¯t stepped into a tool shed. A tall cart filled most of the first room and a path opened up on the other side of it, leading into the building. The cart was a narrow thing, just wide enough to pass through the door Vidar entered through, with two jutting poles to allow someone to pull it from the front. A person¡¯s foot stuck up above the rim. Those were the ones they were supposed to bury if they ever managed more than a dent in the frozen ground. Vidar suppressed a shudder, deciding not to investigate the cart more thoroughly. Warmth thawed his frozen limbs. Water dripped from his hair onto the stone floor. Vidar opened his coat and looked around the small, bare room in amazement. Being out of the wind and behind a wall of stone was not enough to account for this change in temperature. No fire blazed in the room, either. Confused, he rounded the cart and stood in front of the only way out of the room that did not lead to the biting cold. The air coming from the tunnel was no warmer. Vidar leaned against the wall and peered into the darkness, but saw nothing. His eyes went to his hand. It was the stone. The wall itself was warm to the touch. ¡°How?¡± he asked, putting his turned face to the wall while pressing the rest of his body against it to draw as much of the heat as possible into his frozen bones. The warmth couldn¡¯t be natural, and the only answer he could think of was that the priests had somehow embedded runes inside the walls. How they powered them, if that was the case, was another question altogether. A light flickered somewhere further down the dark tunnel. Vidar peered down it, straining both eyes and ears. As far as he could tell, there were no other people in there but him. He glanced at the door, thinking it might not be the best idea to explore further. Remembering the cold outside and how long it would take them to dig the hole, he decided to risk venturing a little deeper. Whatever was down there in the dark, it wouldn¡¯t be a pickaxe. Of that, he was certain. Still, Vidar couldn¡¯t help it. His curiosity was piqued. The sound of his careful steps as he entered the tunnel was all that reached his ears. With the tips of the fingers on his left hand touching the wall, sliding across the stone, he guided himself into the darkness. Patches of stone were colder to the touch, and the heat intensified at regular intervals, giving more support to his idea of runes in the walls themselves. It soon grew pitch black, and the only thing in his field of vision was the small, flickering flame in the distance. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn¡¯t help but look back over his shoulder again and again, worrying someone would enter through the door and effectively cut off his escape. Each time he did, the shovel he carried over his shoulder clanked against the stone, making him jump and swear at his own stupidity. When Vidar finally made it to the flame, he found it was a small lantern standing in the middle of a chamber where the roof was low enough that some taller folk might have to stoop or hit their head. He picked up the lantern and turned in a circle. This room was small enough that he could cross it in just a few strides. To the left of the tunnel¡¯s opening was a door. It looked sturdy, with metal bands across the aged wood. It was locked and needed a key. The gap between the side of the door with the lock and the stone wall might be wide enough to force the shovel in there, but breaking it open, even if it was possible, would not be a silent endeavor. To the right was another door. No padlock or keyhole should mean it couldn¡¯t be locked. The handle was a brass ring that reflected the light from his lantern. Just as he was about to grab it and pull, Vidar stopped himself and leaned in to put his ear to the wood. Sneaking was really not his forte. If he opened the door to a room full of priests or workers, things might get ugly. Silence reigned on the other side. Satisfied, he awkwardly swapped the shovel from his right hand to carry it, along with the lantern, in the left before pulling on the door. It swung open on silent hinges to reveal a well-lit, much larger chamber. Vidar didn¡¯t pay attention to the light runes shining on each wall, or the two tunnels leading off into additional tunnels. The floor was painted full of symbols inside a ring that covered the entire surface. Red in color, this circle was not painted with ink. By the smell of the room and the pale, lifeless body in the center of the circle, it was blood. Almost the entire room was painted with symbols he didn¡¯t recognize and lines going from said symbols to the corpse. Small, black-painted ceramic bowls were placed in the corners. Even from where he stood, Vidar could tell they were filled with even more blood. He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from gagging, and took a half-step back. The monstrous scene before him was like something out of a nightmare, and the smell permeated the chamber so thickly that he could taste iron on his tongue. The church and its clergy were ritualistic. He knew that much, but this? This could not be what everyone meant when they spoke of cleansing rituals and finding peace through worshipping the fallen angels. This was not it. It couldn¡¯t be. Not this horror.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Vidar turned to escape the scene before him but stopped after a single step. Voices sounded from behind the heavy, locked door. Trying to hold on to some semblance of calm despite the harrowing sight, he put the lantern on the ground and turned to the tunnel he¡¯d entered through. He almost cried out when he heard light footfalls from that direction, too. He was trapped. No! There was one route open to him. One way to escape. Through the room. That horrible room. Vidar breathed in deep and stepped back into the blood-covered room, closing the door behind him. The two tunnels were not identical. Through one, he saw light runes on the walls continuing its length, but there was no way to tell where it ended. The other one continued straight ahead from where Vidar stood. This one was dark. Vidar made a snap decision and crossed the room. He tried, and failed, to not disturb the horrible patterns on the floor. A thrumming rose up his feet and into his legs as he hurried over the circle. His legs grew sluggish and his feet even started to tingle. At least he didn¡¯t slip and fall. By the time he was halfway across, just as he was stepping over the dead, naked man, voices rose in the room with the lantern. Though he couldn¡¯t make out the words, they sounded agitated. If they found him down there, Vidar imagined he would be next on the floor. Abandoning care for speed, he ran into the dark tunnel. Vidar kept the shovel in front of him and did his utmost not to make too much sound, but he couldn¡¯t tell if he was being pursued or not. With tears streaming down his face, he hurried through the darkness until another chamber opened up before him. He got the impression the tunnels were sloping downward, almost like he was running slightly downhill. Vidar continued straight ahead and into another tunnel. When that one ended and he couldn¡¯t continue forward, he turned left. The darkness was so complete he couldn¡¯t detect any difference between having his eyes open or closed. A sudden stop made his shovel ring out, and he swore, desperately feeling around for a way forward. A door at the right side of the tunnel barred his way. It was far too narrow a corridor to pull the door open, so he pushed. The old wood groaned, but surprisingly the hinges were silent, like they saw regular care. Perhaps they used this passage after all, despite the lack of light. When the gap was just wide enough for Vidar to push through, he did so and then pushed, shutting it. Vidar surveyed the new room and found light streaming in from a door on the opposite wall. The floor was hard-packed mud, and the stone construction of the wall looked shoddier. The ceiling was constructed with wooden planks, he realized, and from the sound coming from above, people were moving about up there. From listening at the door, he guessed the room beyond was empty. Unfortunately, this one was locked. The shovel fit between the frame and the wall near the locking mechanism, and Vidar heaved with all his might. A slight groan of metal sounded in the empty room, then a pop as something broke, flinging the door open with a crash. He winced and looked out into what appeared to be a cellar. A rat scurried along the wall, frightened by the sudden noise. It was a cramped space with kegs lining one wall and a set of stairs along the other, with standing barrels beneath the steps. The floor was dirt in here too, and an abundance of sawdust was strewn about. Some of it was colored brown, but he didn¡¯t have time to inspect it any further. A small window high up on the far wall let in a little light, but he couldn¡¯t make out anything on the other side of the glass. Gathering himself, Vidar made his way to the stairs and then carefully up them. Each step creaked more than the next, and by the time he made it to the door at the top, he was certain someone must have picked up on him ascending. This time, he clearly picked up sounds from the other side. No speaking, as far as he could tell, but someone was shuffling about while another groaned. A few words were suddenly spoken. ¡°Don¡¯t steal anything. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Someone, presumably the one who¡¯d spoken, walked out of the room, his footfalls fainter with each step. When Vidar didn¡¯t hear them anymore, he tried the door. Miraculously, it opened. He blinked to see what appeared to be the first floor of an inn. A wooden bar inlaid with thin metal bands took up most of the wall to Vidar¡¯s left. Two patrons sat by it, hanging their heads over half-empty glasses of beer, oblivious to their surroundings. The room with its many chairs and tables was otherwise empty. Directly to Vidar¡¯s right was a set of stairs to the second floor. He considered escaping up it but decided against it. That would just mean getting trapped again, unless he wanted to crawl around on the rooftops. A solution with a high probability of death or at least injury, with all that ice and snow. Instead, he eyed the door out onto the street. That was his way out of this mess. The man who¡¯d left returned from around the corner near the exit, probably emerging from the kitchen, just as Vidar closed the door behind him. Vidar dove to the floor at the end of the bar, getting out of sight before the proprietor spotted him. ¡°You¡¯re not stealing anything, are you?¡± the man asked. One of the men by the bar grunted but said nothing, and the man disappeared again. The mouthwatering scent of fresh bread baking wafted through the air as Vidar crept closer to the exit, keeping low on the patron side of the bar. As he passed the drunkards, one of them slowly opened one red, little eye to peer down at him. The man scratched at his bulbous nose, then resumed his position without comment. Vidar breathed a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived. The proprietor returned. He walked behind the bar and then leaned his considerable heft on top of the counter. ¡°You know I¡¯m happy to take yer money, but don¡¯t you have anywhere to be?¡± Neither of the two drunks replied. Vidar could not make it to the exit without this man noticing. He thought about making a break for it anyway, but was afraid the man would inform the priests. There had to be a reason for the tunnel connecting the two locations. If he did tell the clergy, they¡¯d know it was Vidar, and they knew exactly where to find him. It was an unacceptable risk, and he was not ready to leave his newfound source of food and shelter behind just yet. That might result in an uncomfortable outcome for him. Death. The only way to escape was by creating a distraction. To that end, Vidar braced himself and kicked the bottom of the nearest drunk¡¯s chair, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a yelp of surprise. Since the man behind the bar was nearer the other end of the room, he went around on the far side, allowing Vidar to sneak around so the bar hid him from view. Keeping low, he threw himself at the door and out into the cold. The proprietor would surely notice the door opening out of nowhere, but hopefully he would be too busy to follow, thinking it was just some patron who¡¯d opened it from the outside only to then change their mind about getting that morning drink. He never thought it would feel so good to be back out in the cold. Chapter 5
The cold was especially bad coming from such a warm house, and the nervous sweating he¡¯d been doing didn¡¯t help. It grew icy even beneath Vidar¡¯s closed coat as he ran around the front of the house to throw himself into the nearest alley to hide if the proprietor did follow. Bits of bloodstained sawdust were strewn about in the snow where he¡¯d stepped. Swearing to himself, Vidar looked around, trying to orient himself. The church was nearby with a row of single-story houses hiding its base from view. It towered over Vidar ominously, like it might reach out and get him at any moment. No one left the inn and Vidar eventually moved out into the street to hurry across. In the distance, to his right, he saw city guardsmen harassing some poor man. He didn¡¯t stop or even slow his step, afraid it would be the same ones who¡¯d been after him the day before. The inn he¡¯d exited through faced the back part of the church, so Vidar could approach and then circle around without anyone noticing. Erik, Sven, and the third boy were still hard at work, only having descended about a foot into the frozen ground. Vidar joined them and hoisted his shovel to thrust it downward. It barely made it half an inch. ¡°Where did you come from?¡± Erik asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. Vidar glanced at the side entrance. From where they worked, you couldn¡¯t tell it¡¯d been tampered with. ¡°Nowhere. Couldn¡¯t find a pickaxe.¡± ¡°You better help now, or we¡¯ll tell Embla you shirked,¡± Sven said. ¡°Shirker,¡± the unnamed one said. ¡°I¡¯m digging, aren¡¯t I?¡± Vidar said, turning slightly to face the third boy. ¡°What¡¯s your name, anyway?¡± ¡°Nils,¡± the boy grunted. Vidar straightened and held his shovel in both hands. He spoke with as much authority as he could muster. ¡°Erik. Sven. Nils. If anyone asks, I¡¯ve been with you three all along. Understand?¡± All three snickered. About an hour later, they finally broke through the frozen top layer of the ground, which significantly sped their progress. Some time after that, one of the old men brought them bowls with some hot, dark stew with unidentifiable bits in them. Vidar peered down into the bowl, swallowed hard to push the nausea down, then held it out. ¡°I¡¯m not hungry.¡± The boys fought over it but ended up dividing the contents into their respective bowls. He was famished, to tell the truth, but couldn¡¯t make himself eat anything the church provided. Not after what he¡¯d seen inside its walls. Once they¡¯d finished eating, that same man returned for the bowls. By the time they were finished, Vidar was simultaneously as cold and as warm as he¡¯d ever been. His clothes were drenched in sweat underneath his coat. His limbs ached and the palms of his hands were on fire. Gasping for breath once they¡¯d clambered out of the hole, Vidar asked, ¡°What now?¡± ¡°They¡¯ll bring out the dead folk,¡± Erik said, pointing. Both old men were rounding the church, heading for the side entrance. They stopped by the door and looked confused, talking to one another and searching in the snow. Looking for the padlock, Vidar guessed. Then one of them shrugged and opened the door. He soon reemerged, pulling the cart. ¡°Did you tamper with the padlock?¡± he asked, looking straight at Vidar after placing the cart right in front of the freshly dug hole. ¡°W-what?¡± Vidar asked, his whole body shivering from the cold creeping in through his coat. ¡°The padlock is gone.¡± Vidar looked up at the old man with his best innocent expression. ¡°I¡¯ve been digging.¡± He pursed his lips and looked to the other boys. ¡°Is the one boy telling the truth?¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± all three said. ¡°Then you won¡¯t mind us taking a peek at your pockets?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t trust me?¡± Vidar asked, looking from one old man to the other. They looked at each other, then both turned to Vidar. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Not at all.¡± Vidar sighed and raised his hands above his head, consenting to the search. They came up empty, of course. He¡¯d hidden the padlock in the alley next to the inn, under a pile of snow. One of the old men still glared at him, but the other did his best to soothe his friend¡¯s mood. ¡°Brother Julius must have removed it. Let us drop this so we can carry on with our task.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± the first one grumbled. They tipped the corpses into the hole and then left the boys with instructions to fill it back in. Vidar went to grab a shovelful of dirt and found the mounds of freshly dug soil frozen over. He sighed. An hour later, the hole was finally filled. When the task was over, the cold hit him all the worse. The priest returned and the old men followed. Vidar and the three boys had to stand there in the biting cold while the priest recited some incomprehensible chant about life, death, and sacrifice. Vidar knew the church and rituals were like ink and paper, natural companions, but he¡¯d always imagined it as sitting on their knees with their faces to the empty sky, praying for their wingless angels to return. Human sacrifice, or whatever he¡¯d seen, was not that. He needed to tell someone, but who could he even mention it to? No one would believe him. Even if they did, they wouldn¡¯t care. With the ritual finally completed, the four of them were dismissed. Even the boys looked overcome with the cold now, their blue lips shivering and their faces set in grim determination as they rushed through the streets.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°W-where are we going?¡± Vidar asked, glancing this way and that. People were milling about everywhere, most of them wearing thick coats, hats, and gloves to keep themselves warm. This was a nicer district, and it showed in the quality of garments worn by those around them. Erik forced out a single word, hunching over like it pained him greatly. ¡°Fire.¡± They passed a group of young boys harassed by city guards. Vidar watched as one of the boys took a gauntleted fist in his stomach. It doubled him over and the boy puked red. The guardsman glanced in Vidar¡¯s direction and Vidar hurriedly looked away. He didn¡¯t want any trouble. Not now. As they traversed the increasingly more run-down streets, obviously heading back into Rat Town, fewer and fewer shops were open. The people braving the cold did not do so in thick coats and headwear, but with tattered shoes and sometimes even bare feet. They were in the poor neighborhoods now. Dark was already upon them and figures skulked in alleyways, watching. Vidar pulled his coat closer with numb fingers. He¡¯d long since lost the feeling in his toes. Then they were at the barnlike building where they¡¯d eaten before seeing Embla. The doors flew open and the incredible warmth was like walking into a wall. Boisterous sound filled his ears and the smell of food made his stomach rumble and twist upon itself, equally nauseous and starved. Someone called out his name, but he only had eyes for the fire. It burned merrily atop the raised stone platform in the middle of the room, blazing hot. Vidar held out his hands to the fire, their blue pallor a stark contrast to the orange, red, and yellow flames dancing in his vision. Then someone pulled him back. ¡°Careful,¡± Ida said. Vidar pulled his arm free, returning his hand to its place as near the fire as he dared. ¡°It¡¯s not good for you to stand so close. I¡¯ve seen a boy lose the ability to use his hands,¡± Ida said, pointing to Erik, Sven, and Nils. They¡¯d seated themselves on a bench near the wall, almost as far from the fire as they could go. ¡°Really?¡± Vidar asked, pulling his hands back. They were throbbing. Come to think of it, almost his entire body was. The warmth stung his eyes and the pain in his toes, as feeling returned to them, was almost too much to bear. Hobbling over to the nearest bench, Vidar sat with a groan. The room had quieted when they entered but was now back to its raucousness. Ida stood before him. ¡°Want me to get you some food?¡± ¡°Water, please,¡± Vidar said. His throat was parched all of a sudden, his tongue like dry paper in his mouth. While Ida gathered a plate for him, Siv approached with timid steps. She held something out before her, proffering it to Vidar. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked suspiciously. She waved it in front of his face and let out a small grunt. He took it. A wool hat, rough-spun with several small imperfections and holes. Vidar put it on. It just about covered his ears. ¡°For me?¡± She nodded, smiling brilliantly. The change in temperature must have done something to his eyes, because they started stinging. He wiped at them with the sleeve of his coat. ¡°Thank you.¡± Ida set a bowl in his lap and handed over a cup of water. ¡°How¡¯re your hands?¡± ¡°Painful,¡± he said, looking up at her. She hunched down to look closely at his fingers, turning her head this way and that as she hummed. ¡°No spots. You¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°Spots?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re out in the cold long enough, you can get these dark spots. That¡¯s not good.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± he said, taking a sip of water. It was warm, almost like tea water without the tea. Ida stood and winked at him. ¡°So don¡¯t fall asleep outside.¡± ¡°No chance of that ever happening. I¡¯m never going outside for that long in this cold again!¡± he proclaimed, raising his voice and spilling a little of the warm tea into his bowl of stew. ¡°We don¡¯t like it either, you grump!¡± Erik yelled. ¡°You think we get to choose?¡± Vidar studied the mystery bits in his thick stew, grumbling. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not doing it.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re leaving us?¡± Ida asked. ¡°He¡¯s not going anywhere,¡± Torbjorn jeered. The rough older boy stood and pointed down at Vidar. ¡°This little shit don¡¯t have the first clue how to survive without a fat purse!¡± ¡°I did just fine before coming here!¡± Vidar countered, cursing his own quick mouth before he¡¯d even finished the sentence. A beating was not what he needed, not when he still hadn¡¯t even thawed properly. Torbjorn, thankfully, just laughed derisively and went over to the exit. ¡°You¡¯ll start smelling like shit before you know it, shit goblin!¡± The door opened and closed behind him. Ida raised an eyebrow. ¡°Embla offered you Bjorn¡¯s old job?¡± ¡°He the one who disappeared down there?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she said. Vidar looked up at her face and saw a forlorn expression. ¡°You knew him?¡± he asked. Stupid question. Of course she knew him. ¡°Our little brother. Small like you, with the same bushy hair and big ears.¡± Siv¡¯s eyes glittered like she was tearing up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your brother,¡± Vidar said. ¡°He wasn¡¯t our actual brother. It¡¯s what we call ourselves here. We¡¯re all brothers and sisters. You too, now that you¡¯ve joined us, big brother.¡± That effect from the heat on his eyes returned, and he rubbed at them before looking down at his food again. ¡°Little sister,¡± he mumbled, taking a spoonful of hot mystery stew.
* * * ¡°There is nothing else,¡± Embla said. ¡°There has to be!¡± Vidar protested. They¡¯d spent another freezing night huddled together in the shack and eaten what these people called breakfast before going back to Embla¡¯s mansion of a house. Vidar had the creeping suspicion that the days varied very little for most of his little brothers and sisters. Eat slop, grueling work, terrible sleep. They¡¯d resigned themselves to it, and from what he¡¯d been able to pick up from their conversations, most of these kids counted the days until they were eighteen and would be tossed out. Embla¡¯s stipend from the Crown apparently ran out once they hit maturity. That was why Ida told him to lie about his age. He wouldn¡¯t have been allowed in. Why they waited was beyond Vidar¡¯s comprehension. If they wanted to leave and find a better life, they could. No one forced them to stay. He hadn¡¯t put the question to Ida, but he figured those two girls were saving money by doing their nightly activities. That way, they¡¯d have a nest egg once they needed to move on. He would not resign himself to that life. There had to be more out there for him than dying of cold while digging graves for victims of the church¡¯s terrible rituals. ¡°There isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°No one needs a scribe?¡± Embla¡¯s face remained impassive. ¡°You¡¯re not a scribe. Are you, Vidar?¡± ¡°Sure I am!¡± ¡°Then show me your guild¡¯s writ.¡± He glanced at the others sitting around, waiting for their assignments. They were all looking between him and Embla. Torbjorn was quiet, but the grin on his face said he was enjoying this very much. He should¡¯ve waited for everyone else to leave before having it out with this wooden pole of a woman. Curse his impatience. Vidar gritted his teeth. ¡°Fine, I¡¯m not guild sanctioned. Still, I¡¯ll work for cheap!¡± ¡°You¡¯ll work for food and board, like all of us,¡± Embla said, pointing to the three boys he¡¯d dug graves with the day before. ¡°You may choose graves or sewers, or you may leave and let us get on with our day.¡± Vidar looked from Embla to Ida, to Erik, to Torbjorn, then back to Embla. ¡°Fine. Anything is better than being out in that cold all day, every day!¡± Torbjorn snickered. Vidar pointed at him. ¡°Don¡¯t you start, or you¡¯ll regret it!¡± The ruffian stepped into the middle of the room, towering over Vidar. ¡°What did you say?¡± ¡°Torbjorn,¡± Embla said, the warning dangling from that single word. ¡°You have your assignment, same as yesterday¡¯s.¡± Torbjorn lingered for a moment, then leaned in close. ¡°Enjoy the shit, shit goblin.¡± Vidar clenched his fists. He wanted nothing more than to take a swing and put the lout on his ass, but he wasn¡¯t delusional. That was not how it would end. Instead, Vidar did nothing. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± Torbjorn hissed, turning to walk away. Not today. But someday, Vidar promised himself. Chapter 6
Embla made him wait until everyone else was gone before handing over the items he needed for this particular job. A map, a key, and a lantern. The map he¡¯d seen before and the notations were the same as well. It made sense that the blockages would remain static, since no one had gone down there. The key was long and blocky, crafted from rough metal and clearly meant for simple locks. ¡°This¡¯ll open any entrance?¡± ¡°It will.¡± Vidar pocketed the key and held up the lantern. ¡°This looks like it¡¯ll fall apart at any moment.¡± ¡°It¡¯s sturdier than it looks,¡± Embla said. ¡°Just don¡¯t drop it.¡± The places that were supposed to hold glass panes gaped empty and the metal pieces holding the thing together were bent and obviously repaired multiple times already. A small indentation in the middle of the bottom at least made sure the rune would be kept in place. ¡°Where¡¯s the rune?¡± Embla opened a drawer in her desk and withdrew a cloth bag. Light shone through the fabric, but only a little. He took the bag from her outstretched hand. ¡°You¡¯re able to trigger these?¡± he asked, opening the bag. Light almost blinded him before he could hide the emitting light with the palm of his hand. ¡°The person I buy these from triggers them for me. One of the boys was nice enough to deliver the rune for activation and then return it once triggered.¡± It was a flat, somewhat circular wooden disc, about half an inch thick, with the rune itself painted in shallow grooves directly on the surface. The ones kept in his home¡ªwell, his father¡¯s home¡ªwere expertly crafted from etched metal plates with red ink filling the required pattern. This was a far cry from that. ¡°It¡¯s terrible,¡± Vidar said. ¡°It¡¯s what we can afford.¡± He frowned. ¡°Wait, you had this triggered before I even got here today?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯ll last you the full day. Probably several days.¡± ¡°What?¡± he asked, shaking his head. ¡°No, I mean, how did you know I¡¯d be going down there?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°I was surprised to hear you lasted a full day with the boys.¡± Muttering to himself, Vidar pulled up the map to scour it for the entrance closest to the marked blockage. It wasn¡¯t far. Throwing one glance back over his shoulder to Embla, who was already busy with some papers on her desk, he left the house. The early morning meant it wasn¡¯t yet dawn, but no suspicious types lingered in the alleyways and the streets were mostly empty. Those few men and women who braved the early morning hurried along like they had places to be and didn¡¯t even glance in his direction. The entrances were scattered all over the city, but the marked ones were mostly in Andersburg. No blockages were reported near the keep or around it, where the city¡¯s wealthier citizens lived. One wasn¡¯t far from his old home, right in the middle of the city of Halmstadt. With how near the closest entrance was, Vidar didn¡¯t take long in finding it on a street running parallel with Rat Town¡¯s main thoroughfare. This street didn¡¯t have a name as far as he could tell and most of the houses looked like homes where many families lived together under the thumb of a landlord, crammed into a tight space both for warmth and because they could afford no better. Still, it would¡¯ve been a step up from his own sleeping arrangements. One of the buildings, a squat, brown two-story townhouse, hosted a bakery. The light was already on inside and the scent of baking bread made him think of home again, no matter how much he tried not to. This was the scent of their mornings as a family. Fresh bread every day. He hadn¡¯t thought it particularly extravagant then. Compared to the rock-hard, old crust he¡¯d been offered this morning, it was a feast fit for the king himself. The opening should¡¯ve been right near the gap between that bakery and an abandoned cobbler¡¯s shop next to it, but Vidar wasn¡¯t able to tell. Snow covered the entire street. It just kept falling and falling, a never-ending miserable blanket of white. He was tempted to withdraw the rune to give the dark street some light, but didn¡¯t want to attract unwanted attention. If someone stalked the streets nearby, a light like that would undoubtedly catch their eye. Instead, he set to stomping around and listening to the sounds his boots made. Metal should sound noticeably different from stone, he figured. ¡°Little scribe.¡± Vidar shrieked and spun, holding up the lantern as a shield. When no attack came, he slowly opened his eyes to look in the direction of the speaker. ¡°Lytir?¡± he asked, craning his neck as if that¡¯d make him see more clearly in the dark. A small flame appeared, dancing by the far wall of the building across the street. Its light was weak and flickering, like the wind would extinguish it at any moment, but it endured. Lytir set the thick candle in the snow next to him where he sat, leaning back like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, my dear friend!¡± Vidar walked up to him, placed the lantern in the snow, and squatted down, resting his arms on his knees. ¡°What are you doing here, Lytir? Did I walk right past you?¡± The overcast clouds made for a particularly dark early morning, and Lytir¡¯s candle didn¡¯t help much in that regard, but Vidar didn¡¯t need much to make out the features of this old jokester. Old wasn¡¯t the best word, perhaps. He¡¯d known Lytir since he was a kid, but the young man barely seemed to age. He¡¯d been that same happy, slightly odd person for as long as Vidar could remember, always accepting coin or food graciously while encouraging Vidar to read and write. ¡°Just taking my leisure, doing some light reading.¡± He held up a book, one Vidar hadn¡¯t seen before. A depiction covered the front, a rarity among books in Halmstadt. A heavily armored knight raised his shield to protect a maiden from a dragon¡¯s roaring flames. It was titled When Dragons Ruled. ¡°Dragons again?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°I thought you liked dragons, little scribe,¡± Lytir said, mock hurt in his voice. ¡°The first book you gave me detailed the exploits of a boy and his dragon. Remember?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a child anymore, Lytir. Don¡¯t have time for stories, especially now.¡± Lytir nodded, the pointed ends of his disheveled but somehow dry hair bobbing up and down. ¡°No longer part of the household.¡± Vidar grimaced. ¡°Can¡¯t sneak you books anymore, I¡¯m afraid. No coin or bread either,¡± he said, frowning. ¡°Wait, how did you know?¡± ¡°Watchers and listeners see and hear. We, like brothers on the street, have hands open for the world to provide,¡± Lytir cited, like reading from a book. ¡°The most perfect time for stories and adventures, I¡¯m told.¡± Vidar pointed over his shoulder with the thumb on his left hand, indicating the still covered hatch. ¡°I¡¯m going on an adventure in real life, down below the street.¡± ¡°A dark place indeed, but a useful one.¡± That surprised Vidar. ¡°You¡¯ve been down there?¡± Lytir chuckled, his smile wide enough to make his eyes no more than thin slits. ¡°Oh no, not me. I¡¯m a simple man, content with my fiction and the pleasant weather.¡± Vidar narrowed his eyes but didn¡¯t press further. Receiving straight answers from Lytir was next to impossible. While he was a nice enough man, there was something wrong with him in the head, Vidar thought. Something that made him strange in a way difficult to describe. Harmless and friendly but not much use, and it didn¡¯t take long for Vidar to grow irritated at the man¡¯s nagging for him to read stories. Always the fictional ones, specifically grand adventures.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Vidar swallowed, suppressing those memories as he stood. ¡°Well, I better get started.¡± ¡°A laborer¡¯s mind is free to wander.¡± Lytir chuckled, opening his book. Despite the snow and the wind, and the man wearing clothes thinner than what the boys digging graves had worn, he didn¡¯t seem affected in any way. His fingers didn¡¯t even tremble as he flipped the page, and the darkness apparently did nothing to stop him from seeing the words as his lips silently read the words. ¡°Uh, well. See you, Lytir.¡± Lytir nodded, his eyes not leaving the book. ¡°Little scribe.¡± Picking up the lantern, Vidar turned to return to his task of clearing the opening of snow. ¡°You dropped something, Vidar.¡± Vidar turned to see Lytir handling the cloth bag with the rune, opening it. Even with the fabric in the way, it lit up a wide area around the vagrant, and light filled the street when Lytir plucked the rune from the container and brushed his thumb over the runic symbol. ¡°Kenaz,¡± Lytir whispered, his eyes alight with the rune¡¯s glow. ¡°Light. Simple but oh so crucial when darkness comes creeping in.¡± ¡°Hey, put that back!¡± Vidar barked, rushing to snatch the piece of wood from Lytir¡¯s hand. He reached out his other hand, looking up and down the street to make sure no uninvited guests were approaching. ¡°Give me the bag, Lytir.¡± Lytir held out the bag for Vidar to take, the friendly smile never leaving his face. ¡°The sigil does not dance, does it, little scribe?¡± Vidar took the bag and secured the rune inside before shoving it into his pocket. The street once again fell into darkness, though the sky was beginning to lighten, the sun rising just enough to show streaks of purple in the cloudy haze. ¡°You should get out of here before someone robs you,¡± Vidar said, backing away toward where the hatch should be. ¡°I¡¯ll find you when I¡¯ve got bread to spare, promise.¡± ¡°When you have nothing to steal, the world leaves you to your thoughts.¡± The vagrant read too many books for his own good. Vidar muttered as he searched for the hatch, finally hearing his soggy boots make a different sound, a low thud. Clearing the snow revealed a surprisingly small, unadorned and rusted square bit of metal. He saw no handle or hinges, just a hole in the middle. Vidar used the key. Once he turned it, the metal fell on a hinge and slammed against the hole¡¯s wall. The first steps on a metal ladder were the only things visible. A ladder leading down underground. He shuddered, glanced back at Lytir, who still sat there reading, then removed the rune and placed it in the lantern. The walls to either side obscured most of the brightness, and when he lowered the lantern to see better, even less light escaped onto the street. The lantern didn¡¯t let him see much at all. Despite the brightness, the tunnel was just too narrow for him to get a good look past the light. Thinking he might grow too frightened to enter if he lingered, Vidar threw himself into the narrow passage. It was a tight fit. Going down, he even needed to lift his arms straight up over his head for his shoulders to squeeze through, holding the lantern over his head. Once he passed the hatch and closed it back up with a loud click, it wasn¡¯t quite as claustrophobic, though his shoulders still scraped the sides of the downward passage. The climb down was easy enough, despite the lack of space. It was all stone, like a hollow pillar, and the climb was far longer than he¡¯d thought. In his mind, Vidar pictured a hatch and a short one-story drop to reach the sewer level below it, but in reality it took him almost a full minute to climb down. His nose twitched as he looked around. There wasn¡¯t much to see, if he was being honest, and the smell was getting to him. He hadn¡¯t noticed it when he anxiously climbed down, but this place reeked. ¡°Shit goblin¡± was right. It reeked of feces to the point Vidar needed to sit down and hold his nose, squeezing his eyes shut to make them stop stinging. Taking shallow breaths, he fought off a wave of nausea. His body wanted him to puke, but he refused, keeping steady and holding everything down. Losing his breakfast was not an option, not when he was already hungry again. His stomach growled. That only made it worse. So much worse. A few moments of breathing through his mouth with his head between his legs was enough for him to bravely let go of his nose. The stench grew bearable, little by little. Vidar opened his coat to air it out. Sweat was streaming down his chest and back. The place was warm, and when he searched the wall and the floor with his hands, he found spots of warmth like the ones in the church. He glanced down at the recessed part of the floor, to the two-strides-wide basin where human waste raced from right to left, like a perplexingly fast-running river of crap. Vidar found himself in a straight tunnel crafted from stone. Other than the oppressive stink of the place, there really wasn¡¯t much to see. Good. He would like nothing more than to spend the day warm and bored. If he didn¡¯t bump into a murderous ritualistic priest down there, it would be time well spent. It was pitch black, and even the excellent lantern¡¯s illumination didn¡¯t reach either end of the passageway. He stood and turned left, carefully walking downstream, following the excrement. The platform was plenty wide, but he still took extra care to keep near the left wall, staying as far away from the murky water as possible. If he fell in, he might not be able to get back out. After consulting the map at the first intersection, he continued straight ahead. According to the map, he could¡¯ve turned left to find clean water running in the floor rather than shit, but that was, unfortunately, not what the day had in store for him. At the next intersection, it looked like he was supposed to turn right, but it wasn¡¯t until he got there that Vidar realized he would have to get over to the other side. A small metal bridge allowed him to cross. After doing so, he walked in a narrow passageway where neither water nor the smelly alternative ran, and when he exited, Vidar needed to examine the map again. He was in the circled area indicated on the map, but no matter how much he focused and tried to still his fast-beating heart, the words would not stop sliding into each other while the letters danced up and down. ¡°Dammit!¡± he yelled into the darkness, violently shaking his head while blinking. He couldn¡¯t read the stupid instructions. This ailment of his that¡¯d ruined his life was only getting worse. It didn¡¯t matter, he told himself, trying to calm down. The indicated area didn¡¯t cover much ground. He¡¯d just search it all. Two separate corridors with another tunnel connecting them, and a third intersecting both. It couldn¡¯t be that difficult. Holding up the lantern to light the way, Vidar bravely continued, heading left in the pitch-black underground system. He didn¡¯t find anything in the first corridor, even after walking all the way to its natural stopping point, where the running gray water ran off the floor and into a black abyss. Even with the brightness provided by the lantern, he could see no other such corridors ending in a shit waterfall, but he could hear them. The sound of many similar streams ending up in the same huge basin reached his ears, even if his eyes could not make them out. He shuddered, thinking about the manner of things that might be buried down there. After his short reverie, Vidar doubled back and entered the second corridor. Just as he squeezed his way through the narrow passage, he stopped. A faint but distinct sound had reached his ears. Like stone rasping against stone somewhere far in the distance. Not moving a muscle, and even holding his breath, Vidar waited for the sound to return. It didn¡¯t. He breathed in deep, continuing on after glancing over his shoulder and into the darkness. Perhaps some small animal had made its way down there, he told himself. Just a stupid animal. That¡¯s when the lantern flickered. ¡°No!¡± he shouted, the word bouncing on the bare stone walls, disappearing somewhere far up the line in the darkness. It held its light steady as sweat pooled under his shirt. With a mouth drier than parchment, he examined it. A hair-fine crack ran along the front of the wooden disc, right over the runic symbol. ¡°What the?¡± he asked the surrounding silence. ¡°How did that happen?¡± The lantern could not be allowed to fail. It would spell his doom as surely as falling into that huge basin of shit would. He waited a long moment for the flicker to repeat, but it did not. Finally, he pushed on, hoping it was just a singular mishap. The blockage would be near here somewhere. After he¡¯d dealt with that, he¡¯d head back up, just to be safe. When he found the corpse blocking the next tunnel, his attention finally wavered from the lantern. This tunnel did not end in a cascade of free-falling shit water but a sheer stone wall, and there was a hole in the floor where the awfulness was probably supposed to go. Now, it pooled around an adult man who, from the looks of it, had been down there for quite a while. Even in the already pungent air, Vidar could smell this man as he approached. With him blocking the path of the gray water, the surrounding area flooded just enough to reach up to Vidar¡¯s ankle, and he shuddered as his shoes soaked through. They would never be clean again. His first instinct was to kick the bloated corpse until it broke down enough to slide through the hole, but he forced himself to take his time going through the man¡¯s pockets. You never knew where hidden treasure might be. Vidar grinned as he withdrew a knife. It was a slim blade stuck into a strapless leather sheath. The weapon didn¡¯t have a single spot of rust on it, and the metal glinted in the bright light of the rune lantern. ¡°Perfect,¡± he muttered, sliding the find into his coat pocket to continue his search. A few copper coins and two silver coins found their way into his hands, but that was it. Still, it was more than he had any right to expect from this poor sod. From the appearance of his clothes, this was not a rich man. A laborer, most likely. Vidar wondered where he¡¯d come from as he kicked again and again, splattering gray water all over his own pant legs. Finally, the corpse broke enough to slide into the hole with a slurping sound that made him shudder in disgust. The collected gray water slowly dissipated, flowing back into the main run in the floor. While Vidar considered finding a water run to clean himself off in, the lantern flickered again. He shook it, making the hinge creak in protest. ¡°No, no, no!¡± The runelight turned off for several seconds, then blessedly returned. Vidar breathed a sigh of relief just as it dimmed, like the rune had lost some of its power. Hurrying for dear life, he squeezed himself back into the corridor and then over the bridge. After that, he really needed to consult the map. He got it out of his pocket and unfurled it, scanning the page for his location. Cursing, he turned it around, trying to read the instructions. Those blasted letters defied his every attempt. That sound again. Stone against stone. Vidar raised the lantern, trying to peer into the darkness in both directions, seeing nothing. Cursing again, he returned his attention to the map, focusing on the way he¡¯d walked. If he only traced his steps back, he¡¯d find his way back to the surface. The light from the rune lantern in his hand waned. In a matter of moments, Vidar found himself alone in the pitch-black darkness of Halmstadt¡¯s sewer system, with no clue on how to get out. ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered. ¡°Shit, shit, shit!¡± Chapter 7
Unable to see his own hand right before his face, Vidar swore and shoved the map into his coat pocket. The heat was getting to him as his heartbeat picked up and his limbs buzzed with energy. He wanted to run, to flee, but there was nowhere to go. Just shit and darkness. He took a tentative step and almost fell. Somehow, he¡¯d been turned around without realizing it and that one step almost put him into the run in the floor. If he¡¯d gone in, he would surely have been carried over the edge and into the abyss. Vidar screamed and slammed the lantern down to the floor. It was a wordless wail that just had to get out of him. He screamed until the breath in his chest ran out, then he breathed in and screamed again, clenching his fists and turning his face up to the ceiling. No matter what he did, everything turned to shit. A worthless pile of it. Once he got a couple of more screams out of him, a chill settled in his gut. The lantern! Yes, the rune was spent or broken, but that didn¡¯t mean it was worthless. If, no, when, he managed to get out of that forsaken place, Embla would have him killed if he turned up without that rune. Carefully searching with his foot, he found the lantern almost immediately, but when he lifted it, the rune was not in its place. It was gone. Vidar got down on his hands and knees, desperately feeling around in the darkness. ¡°Where are you?¡± he screamed. Vidar placed both palms on the floor and roared in frustration. ¡°Where are you?!¡± The stone underneath his hands went cold for a second, and a flickering light filled the tunnel. Just for a second before going out again, but there it was. A little further off, near the edge of the groove in the floor. Even in the dark, Vidar didn¡¯t have trouble finding it once he¡¯d seen its location. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks as he clutched it in his left hand, holding it tight to his chest like a baby. Snot ran from his nose and Vidar wiped it with the sleeve of his coat, not caring in the slightest. ¡°I have you, you little bastard.¡± The light had returned for a moment. That meant it could do so again. His thumb brushed the rough surface of the grainy wood disc, tracing the slightly smoother part of the inscribed rune and the thin crack. He thrust it forward. ¡°Light!¡± Nothing happened. Vidar shook it. ¡°Trigger!¡± Nothing. The stupid thing would not trigger again, no matter what he tried. That sound rang out again in the silence, stone on stone or perhaps metal on stone. He wasn¡¯t sure. Its origin wasn¡¯t anywhere near, as far as he could tell. ¡°Hello?¡± When no reply came, Vidar put the wooden disk with the rune on it in his pocket. Navigating the darkness was not something he wanted to attempt with only one hand free. The sound frightened him. He could admit that much to himself, at least. For a moment, he considered keeping the knife out in front of him as he walked the narrow passageways, but decided against it. With the luck he was having, he would probably trip and stab himself. Instead, he kept one hand on the wall and one hand out in front of him. If he never stopped touching the wall, he should be safe from falling into the running gray water. Traversing the darkness, he soon found an opening in the wall and smiled. Vidar was relatively certain this was the path from which he¡¯d come. Continuing like that, he walked, and walked, and walked. When he made it to a long tunnel where the air smelled a little better, he could no longer deny it. He was hopelessly lost. With no better option, he continued straight ahead. Without being able to see the map, he didn¡¯t have the first clue as to how to navigate the underground system. Even with light, he wouldn¡¯t know where on the map he was, or even if he was still in the bounds of the hastily drawn lines. All he could do was continue walking and hope his hand eventually hit a ladder. Vidar emerged onto another narrow passageway, but this one was different. Water roared right in front of him, far more of it than what passed through the much smaller run in the gray water part. The floor was wet and slippery, but he still reached out tentatively to touch the water. The stream was powerful, but not so powerful that he¡¯d be swept along merely from touching it, as long as he was careful. He washed his hands and face in the clean water before cupping his hands to drink. It was cold, almost freezing. Vidar didn¡¯t mind. He was incredibly warm and his throat begged for moisture. The roar of the water drowned out any other sound, and once he¡¯d had his fill of water, Vidar frowned and listened closer. Sure, it was a lot of water passing by right in front of him, but not enough that it should make such noise. Most of the sound was coming from a long way upstream, he thought. With how much water was rushing in, its origin could only be in one place. The sea. He didn¡¯t know why it didn¡¯t taste salty, but that still had to be it. If the water entered the system from the shore, that meant an opening. Heartened by the idea of leaving the darkness, Vidar set off, moving upstream. The corridor continued on straight for what felt like an eternity and Vidar upped his pace after a while, sure he would see light streaming in through the dark at any moment. From one step to the next, the ground disappeared beneath his feet. He¡¯d gone too quickly and missed a new run of water coming from his left. Vidar screamed as he tumbled into icy water, but it was abruptly cut off as his head smashed into the stone floor on the other side. He spun around in the darkness, going under the surface of the powerful, frothing stream. Never having been in any body of water larger than a brass tub, Vidar didn¡¯t know the first thing about swimming. He kicked and screamed, coming up over the surface before going down again, swallowing enough water to make him cough it back up, which only led to him losing what little air remained to him. Thankfully, the water wasn¡¯t very deep, and once he regained his wits, Vidar got his feet under him and drew a proper breath as he was carried farther into the dark. His body struck the side of the run and the impact made him gasp as the current changed direction. Again, he tumbled around. The floor he¡¯d been walking on right by the water¡¯s edge was too slippery for his hands to find purchase as he clambered to get out of the water before it killed him. Vidar lost count of how many times he¡¯d gone under and had no way of knowing how far and in what direction the water carried him, when his watery journey through the dark came to an end. The end was in the form of a drop. As he tumbled through the air screaming, a clear thought stuck him. This was just like the place where the gray water emptied into that impossibly huge basin. Water splashed in all directions as he went under the surface. He kicked desperately to get back up.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The clothes he wore weighed him down and struggling upward took every ounce of power in his almost frozen limbs. It was too much. Just as his vision was starting to go fuzzy around the edges, he broke the surface and drew in a desperate breath, his hands clambering for something to grab on to, anything that¡¯d let him escape the water before his clothes pulled him under again. He found it. Metal. Vidar heaved himself to what turned out to be a short ladder up onto a narrow ledge. Safe for the moment, he collapsed into a heap. Now that he was no longer in the water, it wasn¡¯t cold enough to be dangerous, but his teeth still chattered as he searched his pockets to make sure everything was still intact. It was. He breathed a sigh of relief but then remembered where he was. That was quite the fall he¡¯d taken. Carefully, he inched his legs out until he hit the end of his platform, no more than a stride from where he lay. Reaching forward, he found the other end. This small plot of floor was tiny, and from what he could tell when he felt around the wall, there was no ladder to climb, either. Vidar sat with his back to the wall, feet dangling in the air over the edge without touching the water, considering his situation. His situation was not great, he decided. Water roared all around him, with several streams coming down from different tunnels above him, judging by the sound. Thankfully, the water landed far away from the wall, so it did not splash him. After undoing his coat and shirt to allow himself an easier time of breathing, he clutched the light rune in his left arm and held it tight against his chest. Vidar spoke in a low murmur. ¡°Trigger, you bastard. Trigger or I¡¯m dead. Go on, do it now. I¡¯m not dying here, not after all this!¡± He squeezed the wood, willing it to light up the darkness. In his mind, he forced his dread, anxiety, loneliness, and downright exhaustion into the rune, taking from himself and giving it to the symbol. All of it went into the damn thing, every ounce Vidar could muster, until his chest ached. His arm grew numb then, and his chest seized. What felt like an empty area right around his heart fluttered, then squeezed so tight it might as well have been a hand crushing his heart. Brilliant light exploded from the rune. It immediately filled the previously dark basin, showing all that¡¯d been obscured as it glittered over the surface of the water. Vidar immediately fell unconscious.
* * * When he woke to a basin bathed in light, Vidar sat. He blinked to get out of the foggy haze and brought up his hand to massage his temples. Glancing down, he saw his hand, the one where he¡¯d held the rune, lying limp against the floor. The skin on the back of his hand, and on his fingers, was an ashen, bluish gray that drew his thoughts to the pallid complexion of a corpse. To his horror, he could not move it. Not even the fingers twitched at his insistent attempts. It cleared his mind instantly, and he reached for the light rune that¡¯d fallen near his foot with his only working hand. The light coming off it was far stronger than it¡¯d been before. So strong, in fact, that it hurt the eye to glance in its direction. Holding it out in front of him with the rune pointing away, he still saw its glow through the piece of wood. ¡°I did it.¡± He laughed, holding the rune high above his head, shouting, ¡°I did it! Now who¡¯s a failure, father?¡± The fingers on his previously thought lost arm twitched, and began to tingle, and Vidar laughed again. It was coming back to him. It wasn¡¯t dead! Vidar calmed himself and finally took stock of his surroundings. It was a cylindrical basin he¡¯d fallen into, with walls going in a circle around him. The ceiling, somewhere far above, was beyond sight, even with the strong glare from the rune. Finding the way out of this predicament proved easy with the aid of the newly awakened rune. Vidar¡¯s platform was broken, part of it having fallen into the water at some point to be washed away. A short leap across would see his hands grasp the metal rungs of another ladder. Climbing it with only one arm would provide a challenge, but Vidar was up to the task. With the whole arm already tingling, life returning to it, perhaps he might not even need to climb it with only the one arm if he only waited a few more moments. Going back to searching his surroundings, he saw that part of the wall directly opposite him yawned open. The opening stretched down into the water and reached up to about twice Vidar¡¯s own height, giving him a glimpse of the darkness beyond. Water spewed through at tremendous speed, going into what appeared to be a huge, open chamber. Directing the light of the rune in that direction made the light glint off something in the far distance. Vidar¡¯s breath stopped in his chest and his beating heart picked up. When he moved the rune back and forth, the glint in the darkness moved with him. Eyes. He was peering into a massive pair of eyes. Vidar yelled and stood, pressing himself to the wall. He looked about wildly and then threw himself over the gap in the platform to reach the ladder. One hand was plenty to climb, he decided, plenty indeed. Breathing hard, he pulled himself up and up until some strength returned to his other arm. The arm and hand felt as if he¡¯d slept on them and they were just now waking up, full of pins and needles. It wasn¡¯t much help at first, but eventually he was able to use it to aid in his climbing. He wanted to shine the light downward, but with only one hand fully under his control, Vidar was afraid he¡¯d drop the rune in the attempt. Going up with no light was out of the question, as was descending back down to fish it out of the water. Instead, he climbed into the almost pitch-black darkness. Only a little light escaped from his coat pocket, not enough to see by. The climb just went on and on for what felt like hours. Once he regained the full use of his arm, he checked the darkness below him, seeing no eyes. The beast had not followed. ¡°What in the fallen angel¡¯s tarnished wings was that thing?¡± he asked the dark. The dark did not respond. By the time he made it up the ladder, his arms and legs were burning with exhaustion and Vidar was ravenous with hunger. All sense of time was lost in the dark, and he didn¡¯t have the first clue as to how long he¡¯d been out cold down there in the basin. It didn¡¯t matter. All that mattered was that he now had light to see by. He¡¯d emerged into a small chamber just large enough to climb up and turn around in, and then stepped out to another corridor with water rushing past. Perhaps it was the same one from where he¡¯d fallen in. There was no way of telling. It didn¡¯t matter. The powerful light showed the way and soon a sign appeared. The text refused to sit still, of course, but it was shaped like an arrow, giving him a direction to go by. That was all Vidar needed. Another arrow appeared, then another. He hurried on stumbling legs, eager to leave this limbo of darkness, water, and shit. The path took him upstream and directed him to a new corridor that was of the smelly type. Vidar ignored the stench and continued, more and more anxious to get out. Then he came to a stop. Two pointing signs appeared before him, one pointing left and one right. Even with all the concentration he could muster, the letters just would not let him make out their meaning. He screamed in frustration and headed left, since he heard the roar of water coming from that direction. Vidar followed the water upstream. The sound got louder and louder until continuing forward was difficult without putting his fingers in his ears to block out the worst of it. That obviously meant he couldn¡¯t use the light, so he soon gave that up. The corridors crossed more and more often, and the risk of falling in again was far too great when traversing the difficult terrain in the dark. When another ladder finally appeared in the distance, Vidar almost fell to his knees in relief. There it was. A way out. The crashing of water was deafening, which told of an intake being near. That, in turn, gave Vidar a pretty good idea of where he¡¯d emerge at the surface. The hatch at the top of this new ladder clicked open without issue once he finally found the key after an anxious moment where he thought he¡¯d dropped it somewhere. Vidar pushed but found the blasted thing stuck. He moved up a few rungs and put his shoulder against the metal, pushing with his legs to finally get the thing to budge. Water rushed in, along with a seemingly endless cascade of wet sand. The water was salty and it, along with the sand, threatened to push him from the ladder, and the weight of the lid itself still pushed down on him. Vidar refused to close it back up. He would not go back down there with the escape finally in his grasp. He hacked and coughed, choking back the water while trying to breathe, forcing his legs up another rung, then another. The lid finally opened enough for him to pass through, but still it weighed down his back. Vidar struggled for air and waved his arms in the air, trying to push the water off him. Something grabbed his wrists, and he found himself yanked upward and out of the watery, sand-filled trap. ¡°Wat faenden aer yew duing haere?¡± Chapter 8
Once back on dry dock, Vidar marveled at the place from which he¡¯d emerged. It was out in the water. Not far from land, where the Dennerish sailors pulled him out, but still in the actual water. The sea must have risen considerably since the sewer and water system was built. No sane person would have created an entrance underwater. This also meant the actual intake was somewhere out there under the actual sea. Once out into the open, the cold snatched most other thoughts from his mind. His clothes were still wet from going under in the water basin and the cold night meant death if he didn¡¯t find some place warm¡ªand found it soon. The sailors had been kind enough to give him a blanket to wrap around his shivering self, laughing all the while and smacking Vidar¡¯s back with strong, scarred hands. They wore nothing but thin shirts and pants that ended above the knee. Some of them were even barefoot. Tattoos covered much of their exposed skin with everything from simple lines to much more intricate patterns and depictions of ships and women. It was Vidar¡¯s first time seeing art printed on someone¡¯s skin. Such a strange people. He didn¡¯t understand much of their broken language. It sounded similar to his own, but somehow off, kind of like a drunkard¡¯s sloppy mumbling, but the words were just different enough that he barely got more than their most basic meaning. He¡¯d asked for directions to Rat Town and they¡¯d pointed him in a direction through the gate near the dockyard, and off he went to brave the cold. It didn¡¯t take long to find the sketchier parts of Halmstadt. Vidar clutched the knife in his coat pocket, glancing nervously at everyone all around him while ice formed in his wet hair. His shuddering grew worse, to the point Vidar found it difficult to keep the blanket clutched around him, and his toes and fingers quickly began to numb. Eventually, he ran out of time for searching the streets randomly and was forced to ask for directions. The women he approached, thinking they¡¯d be the safer bet, all recoiled and hurried away from him without as much as a greeting. The first man he dared asked for help drew back and spat on the ground. ¡°You smell like excrement, boy, and not the dung from a pig either.¡± Vidar couldn¡¯t smell it on himself and thought it¡¯d mostly washed off him in the basin. Apparently not. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Andersburg. Is it near here?¡± ¡°Why¡¯re you so smelly, boy?¡± ¡°I fell in a heap of crap! Satisfied?¡± The man, an older, thin fellow with a dark gray hat pulled down so far the rim covered most of his eyes, chuckled. ¡°That¡¯ll do it, boy. That¡¯ll do it!¡± ¡°S-so?¡± Vidar asked, his teeth chattering. He was starting to feel drowsy and tired, as if he wanted to fall asleep. That couldn¡¯t be a good sign. ¡°So?¡± the man asked back. ¡°Andersburg?¡± Vidar spat. ¡°D-do you know where it is?¡± ¡°Rat Town? Of course I know it!¡± ¡°Where?¡± Vidar shouted. ¡°No need to get cross now, boy.¡± ¡°Please tell me.¡± The old man pointed down the street. ¡°There! Go right and there you are, the road through Andersburg.¡± Vidar hurried away in the direction he¡¯d pointed. ¡°Hey, boy!¡± Vidar stopped and turn. ¡°Probably best if you head inside, no? Looks like you¡¯re a bit cold.¡± The anger provided some measure of warmth as he trudged down the street and finally recognized some buildings. It wasn¡¯t far. He stoked his anger to keep from collapsing right then and there in the snow. The broken rune, him having to wade through a river of shit, falling down and then making his way up. That fat bastard who¡¯d sicced the guards on him. Vidar¡¯s father with his impossible expectations and his mother just standing by, watching with teary eyes as his father banished him. The rising anger shifted to a longing sadness for his home, followed by fear as his memory turned to the basin and the enormous eyes lurking in the dark. To keep all those useless feelings at bay, he focused on the rune and the way it¡¯d broken. It represented everything wrong in his life, and there was much to choose from. Embla bought the damn thing for cheap, but he couldn¡¯t blame her for that. Oh, no. The one to blame was the awful merchant she¡¯d bought it from, but the blame did not stop there. From the start, the rune scribe who¡¯d crafted the damn thing was ultimately responsible for Vidar¡¯s odyssey through the dark sewers. He would make that man pay if it was the last thing he ever did. Vidar found the urchin dwelling and banged on the door until a confused Erik opened up and let him in. Then he collapsed in a heap on the floor and passed out. The last thing he felt was someone putting a heavy blanket over his trembling form. Someone spoke, but he was too far out of it to tell who. ¡°He smells like shit.¡± ¡°Shit goblin.¡± They giggled. With the many boys crammed into the small space, their combined body heat slowly thawed Vidar¡¯s frozen limbs. The next morning, while it was still dark out, he withdrew the light rune, now once again a flickering mess. His toes and fingers weren¡¯t permanently damaged, as far as he could tell. None of the black spots Ida told him to look for. Vidar¡¯s toes and fingers were pink and healthy looking. It¡¯d been a near thing, but he was restored. ¡°Embla will kill you for ruining that thing,¡± Erik said from over by the opposite corner. The space was small enough that their feet touched if neither pulled up their legs. ¡°Wasn¡¯t my fault,¡± Vidar mumbled, pulling up his shirt sleeve to inspect his arm. It didn¡¯t feel any different. The numbness was gone without a trace. Vidar couldn¡¯t peer into his own chest but his heart beat like usual and the empty area around it that¡¯d threatened to squeeze the life from him was like a distant dream. ¡°It¡¯d be nice to have one of those in here,¡± one of the other boys said, nodding to the flickering rune beside Vidar. ¡°Just get a rune scribe to come stay here with us,¡± Torbjorn said. ¡°I¡¯m sure any one of them would love to. They can take my space. That way, I won¡¯t have the smell of shit in my nose every night.¡± Vidar ignored their teasing and bickering. He¡¯d made it out of that nightmare below the surface. Not just that, he¡¯d made it out with a few coins in his pocket and, more importantly, a weapon. Now he needn¡¯t fear for his life every time he walked the streets of Andersburg.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. The elation didn¡¯t last long. A few hours out of the wet and the cold did not mean his clothes had fully dried. When the door to their little shack was flung open with a bang, revealing the worried faces of Ida and Siv, cold air rushed in and immediately sucked the warmth from Vidar¡¯s bones. ¡°Vidar! You¡¯re here!¡± Vidar wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°We were so worried about you,¡± Ida said, turning back to Siv. ¡°Weren¡¯t we, Siv?¡± Siv nodded, looked at Vidar¡¯s head, then frowned. Ida followed her gaze and immediately understood what her sister was thinking. ¡°Where¡¯s your hat?¡± Vidar¡¯s fingers went to his tousled, but now dry, hair. ¡°I must¡¯ve lost it when I fell into the water.¡± Ida¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You fell into the sea?¡± ¡°No. Well, yes. Sort of. I¡¯m sorry for losing the hat, Siv. I really liked it. Promise.¡± Her warm smile helped chase the cold away. A little. ¡°We¡¯ll get you a new one,¡± Ida said as the boys started pushing past Vidar to get out of the shack. ¡°You really worried about me?¡± Vidar asked, walking beside the two sisters. ¡°Sure, we were. You¡¯re one of us now, Vidar.¡± A small pang of warmth spread through his chest and he suppressed a stupid smile trying to take over his face. ¡°Here,¡± he said, holding out his hand. Ida just looked at him as they walked. Vidar sighed. ¡°Hold out your hand.¡± When she did, he let a few of the coins he¡¯d collected down in the sewers drop into her palm. Ida pulled her hand back and held it near her face. She wrinkled her nose at the smell but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°Where did you get these? Three copper coins is enough for a big meal!¡± He pointed down at their feet. ¡°In the sewers.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± she said, disappearing the coins into one of her many layers of clothing. Ida made them slow down a little so they lagged behind the rest of the group. She leaned in close and spoke in a hushed whisper. ¡°Do you want to come with us tonight? We¡¯ve found a target.¡± ¡°Target?¡± ¡°A house where both master and servants will be gone tonight. Siv and I have been watching them for a few days now. That¡¯s where we were coming from when we found you in the snow. Tonight, we¡¯re going inside. Well, I¡¯m going inside. Siv is too much of a baby to enter. You¡¯re small enough to come with me. We¡¯ll share the loot.¡± He looked from Ida to Siv. ¡°You guys do this a lot?¡± Siv shook her head, let out a negative-sounding grunt, and threw a worried look at her sister. ¡°First time for everything,¡± Ida said, making a fist in front of her face. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll do fine. Usually, we go after people¡¯s pockets, but it¡¯s rare that we get away with something useful. The places we can go without drawing attention, people don¡¯t have much coin on them.¡± ¡°Sounds dangerous. Entering a house like that.¡± She shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re often nearly caught out on the street, too. How are we supposed to get by without taking some risks?¡± Ida held up her fingers near Vidar¡¯s face, showing the many reddish pinpricks. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much longer I can take sewing all day, every day, just waiting for the years to roll on by.¡± Siv looked down at her feet, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. ¡°Why not join the thieves¡¯ guild, then?¡± Vidar asked. They were nearing the barn, where breakfast would be served. Vidar¡¯s hunger caught up with him at the thought of stale bread, and he almost doubled over from a sudden wave of exhaustion. Not to mention the cold. ¡°No girls allowed,¡± Ida said, her tone of voice and facial expression both very telling of what she thought of that little rule. Just before they were to enter the barn, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, ¡°Siv and I are going to create our own guild one day. Girls only! Perhaps we¡¯ll make an exception for you, if you play your cards right.¡± She entered first and Vidar allowed Siv to pass him by so she could follow her sister. ¡°I¡¯m not very good at cards,¡± he muttered. Another spot of warmth did him some good, and the terrible food was perhaps the finest meal he¡¯d ever had the pleasure of eating. Unfortunately, the miniscule portions meant he only chased off the worst of his hunger pangs. He¡¯d need to catch up on the eating somehow. Going through life with a growling stomach was no way to live. Perhaps helping Ida rob those people would be an acceptable risk after all. If there was a house, there¡¯d obviously be food in it. And coin, of course. The two silver coins, those meager little bits of currency, would allow him to eat like a king for a few days, but then they¡¯d be gone. Unacceptable. The one guiding truth for Vidar at that moment was the need for wealth. The life of an urchin, always working for nothing, was not one he would submit to. The heavy fists of poverty would pummel him to the grave. Deep in thought, he hadn¡¯t realized they were already at their leader¡¯s base of operations. Vidar glanced down at his hand in his coat pocket. His fingers were wrapped around the now dead light rune. It didn¡¯t even flicker. The next few moments promised to be unpleasant. Embla glared at him from the moment Vidar stepped into the room, but she said nothing until all the others had cleared out. Ida and Siv were sent off to work in some tavern and the grave-digging boys weren¡¯t needed by the church that day. Instead, Embla sent them off to some storage near a mill where they were supposed to lug barley around all day. Torbjorn was sent off to his usual job, whatever that was, and a lot of the smaller kids would be clearing snow from the road in one of the richer parts of town. Once they were all sent off, Embla sighed. ¡°When you didn¡¯t return yesterday, I thought you¡¯d done like your predecessor and disappeared with the rune.¡± ¡°I cleared one of the blockages,¡± Vidar said, bringing out the now nearly indecipherable map to point at the X where he¡¯d found the corpse. Embla glanced at the paper, then up at Vidar, not saying anything. ¡°Then I, well, fell.¡± ¡°You fell?¡± she asked, her voice flat. ¡°The rune you gave me was defective,¡± Vidar said, slamming the wooden disc down on the desk, separating the two of them. ¡°Lost my way in the dark and fell into the water. I almost drowned, then almost froze to death!¡± She picked it up, holding the crack to the light before raising an eyebrow. ¡°Now we have a problem, you and I,¡± Embla said, placing the piece of wood in Vidar¡¯s hand. ¡°We do?¡± ¡°I do not have the funds to replace that rune again, and the ones who tasked us with clearing blockages in the underground system were clear. No extra expenses would be tolerated.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going back down there in the dark,¡± Vidar said, swallowing and glancing toward the door. The tension coming off this woman was thick enough to cut with a knife. ¡°You found one blockage. How much coin did the man have?¡± ¡°None,¡± Vidar said. This time, his voice didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I find that difficult to believe.¡± Embla knocked on the surface of her desk with her knuckles twice in quick succession. The ceiling beams creaked as shuffling steps made their way through the second story and down the stairs while Vidar once again contemplated escaping out the door. But he still didn¡¯t have anywhere else to go. His situation hadn¡¯t changed. It was too late now, in any case. A man wide enough to block the entire hallway showed up. His arms hung well past his hips, huge hands gently swaying back and forth as he peeked out from under an oversized brow. ¡°Search the boy for coins, Afte,¡± Embla said. Vidar withdrew the knife and pulled it out of the thin sheath, pointing the edge toward this new arrival. Afte¡¯s laughter boomed through the small room, but his mirth only served to anger Vidar rather than scare him. ¡°You won¡¯t touch me without this blade plunging into your neck.¡± Heat rose in Vidar¡¯s face, but he didn¡¯t care. He was done with taking shit from the world. Embla sighed and waved Afte off. After the towering giant lumbered off again, she shook her head, a thin smile on her lips. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, I¡¯ll give you that. Never thought you were capable of holding a knife like you meant to use it. This, however, does not mean our issue is resolved. We need another rune for you to continue with your assigned task.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get you another rune,¡± Vidar heard himself promising. ¡°Just give me the name of the merchant you got it from, and I¡¯ll make him exchange the defective rune for one that works properly.¡± She regarded him for a long moment before deciding. ¡°It was procured from a student.¡± ¡°A student? No wonder it didn¡¯t work right. From where does he hawk these substandard runes?¡± A student was a much better target than some hardened rune scribe merchant. The latter would do anything to get out of proper service to a paying customer, but a young student would be pliable. ¡°The name of this rune scribes¡¯ guild student is Alvarn. You¡¯ll find him in Fyllinge, where the Halmstadt chapter of the guild has their chapter house. That¡¯ll be your task for the day. Get me another light rune, Vidar.¡± He¡¯d get one, but not for Embla. Like the keys to the underground water and waste system, they would have to pry that rune from his cold, dead hands. Alvarn, the rune scribe student in Fyllinge. That runt was about to receive a visitor. Chapter 9
Vidar grew very aware of his scent as he moved up the streets of Halmstadt. With every passing street, the people were more prosperous. It was like the coin in their pockets made them more susceptible to foul odors, because the sidelong glances from the men and wrinkled noses from the women became all the more frequent. ¡°Watch out so my stench doesn¡¯t rub off on you!¡± Vidar barked, running up to a woman in wide navy-blue skirts holding an embroidered handkerchief to her nose. The outburst did not make them stare less, and he regretted it almost immediately. For now, people kept their distance. No one wanted to go near someone acting crazy, especially one as smelly as him. That did not mean they wouldn¡¯t call the guardsmen. Swearing, he dipped onto a side street and hurried his steps. A well-dressed woman like that should have no reason for being out at this early hour, anyway. He knew Fyllinge well. It was the part of town right next to where he used to live, after all, and he¡¯d spent many a day delivering texts and books to clients in the area. This predicament he found himself in, being down on his luck, was still a relatively new development, but the sharp corners of newly renovated brick houses and the heavenly scent of fresh-baked bread from the bakery one street over no longer gave him a sense of security. This was not home. Vidar was now a guest. A trespasser, even. Vidar moved through Fyllinge to reach the rune scribes¡¯ guild¡¯s building. Having once delivered a book, one detailing different subtypes of flowers if he was not misremembering, he knew exactly where to find it. Even in the early morning, lights glimmered in the clear glass windows of the sizable oblong stone building with one tall tower at the other end. It was an old structure compared to many of the surrounding houses and shops, with rounded corners and discoloration on the lower part of the walls. It stood out among the more modern architecture, resistant to change. Vidar didn¡¯t know much about the guild, but he did know they¡¯d been around forever. Runes were an integral part of the economy and the life of most people in Sveland, and the rune scribes were indispensable. As he trudged up the wide stone steps to the imposing building, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the freshly fallen snow, he passed a group of four young men¡ªboys, really¡ªcrowding around someone at the midpoint. From the look of things, they were throwing half-hearted punches into an overweight boy¡¯s gut as they cackled with laughter. When Vidar passed, one of them sniffed the air dramatically. ¡°Who shat themselves?¡± ¡°The vagrant,¡± another said, a sneer on his face as Vidar glanced back over his shoulder. That was it. This could not stand. Vidar turned and went back down a step. ¡°What did you call me?¡± ¡°Keep walking, you stinkin¡¯ vagrant,¡± that same boy said, glancing back and forth between his friends and Vidar. He was afraid, Vidar realized. That sneer was an attempt to hide the fear, but it did not reach the boy¡¯s eyes. He was perhaps seventeen years old with short-clipped red hair and a face full of freckles, with thin lips and cheeks flushed with color. Vidar took another step down the stairs, then another. He squeezed the handle of his knife and held the boy¡¯s gaze, anger boiling to the surface. ¡°I¡¯ll cut each of those freckles off your ugly face, you little shit,¡± Vidar hissed, withdrawing the knife. He kept the point in the group¡¯s direction while moving the blade about menacingly. ¡°Then I¡¯ll cut off your thumbs. You¡¯re a rune scribe, aren¡¯t you? Good luck making the precise lines without all your fingers!¡± The redheaded boy¡¯s eyes widened and his face flushed an even deeper red as he raised both hands with his palms facing Vidar. ¡°Now, wait a moment.¡± Vidar was still a few steps too far up to even reach the boys, but he jabbed the air and showed his teeth in a grin that he hoped would look unhinged. If all four of them jumped him, Vidar wouldn¡¯t stand a chance even with the knife. Once the initial burst of anger subsided, the point of no return was already well behind him. It took everything for Vidar not to breathe a sigh of relief when they stepped back as one. ¡°Crazy bastard,¡± one of them said. ¡°That¡¯s right. You better run!¡± Vidar shouted, hurrying three steps down and jabbing the air again. The boys fled, shouting something about calling the guardsmen. Crap. The need to run or fight surged through Vidar¡¯s limbs and his heart pounded in his chest to the point he barely felt the cold anymore. He put the knife away. ¡°Thank you,¡± a soft but deep voice said. ¡°You¡¯re not crazy. Are you?¡± Vidar turned to face the one they¡¯d been bullying. This one was perhaps nineteen or thereabouts. The young man wasn¡¯t actually fat, he just had a sense of solidness about him. It was the round cheeks that gave him a hint of pudginess, but no gut hung over his trousers. Round spectacles sat atop a wide nose and a lock of his brown, curly hair was trapped between his face and the glass. ¡°Maybe I am, maybe I¡¯m not,¡± Vidar replied, nodding toward the heavy wooden doors leading into the guild at the top of the stairs. ¡°You belong to those people?¡± ¡°If I belong to anyone but myself, that person would be my father. But yes, I am a student of the runic arts.¡± The scribe wrinkled his nose and continued, picking his words with care. ¡°You are aware of the scent lingering about you?¡± Vidar sighed. ¡°I smell like shit. Yes, I know. You would too if you¡¯d been rolling around down in the sewers.¡± The young man¡¯s eyes opened up wide and his jaw fell into a shocked and excited expression, and he reached forward and grabbed Vidar¡¯s hands, forgetting about the knife. ¡°You¡¯ve been in the sewers? Recently?¡± He looked down. ¡°Yes, of course recently, judging by the smell. Sorry. When were you down there? How did you find a way down?¡± Vidar pulled his hands away and sheathed the knife. ¡°What is, uh, what are you¡­ What?¡± ¡°Can you show me?¡± ¡°Why do you want to see the sewers? Wait, I don¡¯t care,¡± Vidar said. ¡°I¡¯m here to find a student named Alvarn.¡± The scribe¡¯s face fell at Vidar¡¯s reply, but he quickly grew excited again. ¡°I¡¯m Alvarn!¡± ¡°You are?¡± Alvarn nodded. ¡°Have you seen the water down there in the system?¡± ¡°Fell into it. Almost died,¡± Vidar murmured as he pulled out the wooden disc with the rune scratched and painted upon it. He flicked it to Alvarn, who clumsily caught it. ¡°This is one of mine,¡± Alvarn said, raising his glasses to study the rune. ¡°You broke it.¡± The doors into the guild opened and light spilled out along with a steady stream of students, judging by their age, dressed in thick, dark gray cloaks matching Alvarn¡¯s. Alvarn looked up for a moment, then peered down at the rune again, obviously studying it to avoid the glances from other students. Once they were all gone, Vidar spoke again. ¡°Why did they all glare at you like that? Is it because you¡¯re talking to me?¡± ¡°They don¡¯t like me much.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Vidar demanded. ¡°I¡¯m not rich or well-connected.¡± ¡°You look plenty rich to me.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Alvarn shifted his weight from left to right, then back again, looking after the other students disappearing down the street. ¡°Look, it was nice meeting you and I really want to hear more about the sewer system, but I have to go do my rounds.¡± The quizzical look on Vidar¡¯s face prompted an explanation. ¡°Going around rejuvenating runes is part of the curriculum.¡± ¡°And it makes the guild a bunch of coin?¡± Vidar guessed. Alvarn shrugged and turned as if to leave. ¡°Let¡¯s meet again.¡± ¡°Now hold on,¡± Vidar said, grabbing Alvarn¡¯s cloak to keep him from leaving. ¡°You owe me a new light rune! It broke in the sewers and I had to find my way in the dark. Almost killed me!¡± ¡°That sounds scary, but I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s my fault.¡± Vidar tapped the broken rune still in the palm of Alvarn¡¯s hand. ¡°You made it. You¡¯re responsible!¡± Alvarn didn¡¯t back down and a hint of heat rose in his words. ¡°But you broke it.¡± ¡°Only a little! I made it glow again. If not for that, I¡¯d still be down there!¡± ¡°Wait. You triggered the rune again once it was damaged? That¡¯s dangerous.¡± Vidar frowned down at the crack in the wood. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I mean, I guess? I¡¯m no rune scribe.¡± Alvarn put a surprisingly large hand on Vidar¡¯s shoulder and stared into his face. ¡°Rune work is not necessarily a talent for a select few. Most people would be able to at least trigger runes with a little training.¡± Vidar drew back, dumbfounded. ¡°What? You¡¯re kidding!¡± ¡°No jest. It is against all law and custom, of course, but it¡¯s not some miracle that you rejuvenated the kenaz rune again. What you did could¡¯ve had dire consequences. It could have killed you.¡± This was getting more ridiculous by the moment. Vidar didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or curse at all this new information. ¡°Illegal? How is it dangerous?¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing you were desperate for light, and who wouldn¡¯t be in that situation? When the rune was rejuvenated, it was even stronger than before. Correct?¡± Vidar nodded. ¡°And you lost feeling in your arm, like you¡¯d slept on it funny?¡± ¡°How did you know? My chest felt funny too, like someone was squeezing my heart.¡± Alvarn shuddered. ¡°You don¡¯t know how narrowly you escaped death, then. It is impressive, though, to manage so much without knowing what you were doing. It is illegal precisely for that reason, the danger. In the hands of someone inexperienced, rune work can be downright deadly.¡± ¡°Sounds more to me like the rune scribes¡¯ guild wants a monopoly. Since no one else is allowed to make and sell runes, I¡¯m thinking you¡¯re all rolling around in gold.¡± ¡°That is not exactly a secret,¡± Alvarn allowed. ¡°The danger part still stands. Look, I really have to go. My list of places to visit is long and I have lessons upon my return.¡± He pulled another wooden disc out of his pocket and threw it at Vidar. ¡°Take that, and promise me you won¡¯t try any more rune work.¡± Vidar caught and inspected the rune before putting it in his coat pocket. His task was completed, but that was not enough for him, not anymore. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you and you¡¯ll teach me.¡± The look of horror on Alvarn¡¯s face was almost comical, but the fact he started running away made the whole situation less amusing. Vidar caught up within a few strides. ¡°I can¡¯t teach you,¡± Alvarn hissed, his voice a shouted whisper. ¡°They¡¯ll throw me in jail!¡± ¡°I saved you from those bullies!¡± Vidar said, ignoring the looks they were getting as they ran down the sleet covered street side by side. ¡°You don¡¯t think they¡¯ll come back?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll help you deal with them, permanently!¡± Alvarn¡¯s face grew even paler. ¡°You¡¯ll kill them?¡± ¡°What? No! I¡¯ll tell them I¡¯ll cut their balls off if they don¡¯t let up.¡± He seemed to ponder the suggestion for a moment, then shook his head and finally stopped running. Despite his big frame, Alvarn was barely out of breath. ¡°They are not the only ones. They¡¯re all like that.¡± ¡°I can see why you¡¯re a target, but the place has to be full of scholarly types. Why do they target you?¡± ¡°I told you, because my father is a merchant.¡± ¡°A respectable trade.¡± ¡°Not among lesser nobility and academics.¡± Vidar frowned. ¡°Wait. You¡¯re saying they¡¯re looking down their noses at you?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. I don¡¯t even care, really. They were never going to be my friends. All I want is to be left alone.¡± ¡°What if I give you the knife? The threat of violence can go a long way, I¡¯ve found.¡± Alvarn eyed Vidar¡¯s pocket but shook his head. ¡°I¡¯d be expelled.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll think of something,¡± Vidar said, placing his hand on Alvarn¡¯s back to push him into walking side by side. ¡°I¡¯ll even tell you all about the sewers.¡± Alvarn¡¯s eyes shone at the mere mention of the sewers and, after walking a few steps, the larger young man nodded. ¡°Well, fine. But you have to promise me something.¡± The answer stunned Vidar, who nodded vigorously. ¡°A-anything.¡± ¡°You must never, ever tell a soul about me teaching you a little, and I¡¯m only doing it to keep you from harming yourself. You strike me as a person who doesn¡¯t listen to reason, who would have attempted to learn more on his own.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have much. This might be the only way for me to get back on my feet. If I can craft runes and sell them, I might even go to sleep in a bed sometime soon,¡± Vidar said. That made Alvarn stop dead in his tracks again. He turned and held a finger real close to Vidar¡¯s nose, making him go a little cross-eyed, trying to follow its motion. ¡°You must never attempt to sell anything. The guild will find out and they will find you. Once they have you in their claws, I won¡¯t be far behind.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Vidar muttered. ¡°Promise me!¡± Alvarn half shouted. ¡°I promise. I won¡¯t tell a soul and I will not sell any runes. Happy?¡± ¡°Not that anyone would buy from someone without the guild¡¯s writ.¡± Alvarn sighed. ¡°Fine, I¡¯m happy. But you¡¯re taking me to the sewers.¡± ¡°Deal,¡± Vidar said, holding out his hand. They shook on it. ¡°Now, how do I make a rune that¡¯ll keep me warm?¡± Vidar asked immediately after letting go of Alvarn¡¯s hand. ¡°You should get a better coat,¡± Alvarn said, turning onto a narrow street. ¡°The sowilo rune is advanced.¡± ¡°Do I look like I have money to spare for a better coat?¡± Alvarn glanced down at Vidar. ¡°That coat you¡¯re wearing has seen better days, but judging by the quality and the stitching, it¡¯s not some poor peasant¡¯s garment.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a long story and there are more interesting topics,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Tell me how to make a light rune, if warmth is too advanced to start with.¡± They stopped in front of a rickety door leading into a building made out of wood. It was huge and looked like it¡¯d once been luxurious, but was now on the brink of falling in on itself. Alvarn drummed the back of his fist against the door several times. Eventually, someone unlocked it from the inside and it opened a crack. ¡°I¡¯m here for your rune rejuvenation,¡± Alvarn said in a loud but respectful voice. The door opened wider and an ancient man with deep furrows in his pale face immediately complained, ¡°You¡¯re late, boy!¡± ¡°My apologies,¡± Alvarn said, stepping through the door. He looked over his shoulder at Vidar. ¡°You stay out here. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± By the time Alvarn returned, the sun was finally up. It did not provide much in the way of warmth, however. ¡°What took you so long, and why couldn¡¯t I go inside?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a big place,¡± Alvarn said, clearing his throat. He looked a little haggard. ¡°I don¡¯t want any of the guild¡¯s customers seeing us together more than absolutely necessary. The other ones won¡¯t take so long.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Vidar grumbled. ¡°Where to next?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a walk, but I can tell you a little of rune crafting as we walk.¡± ¡°Rune crafting?¡± ¡°It¡¯s what we call rune scribing among ourselves.¡± ¡°That makes you an artisan?¡± Vidar asked, following Alvarn as he set off down the street. Alvarn blushed, then opened his thick cloak at the front to show a light rune he was holding. ¡°The kenaz rune.¡± ¡°Why not just call it a light rune?¡± ¡°Because that¡¯s not its name. I don¡¯t call you ¡®stinky,¡¯ do I?¡± Vidar narrowed his eyes but held back his retort. It would do him no good getting into a shouting match with the person who¡¯d graciously, and with only a little nagging, agreed to teach him. ¡°Go on.¡± They passed a rotund and heavily sweating shop owner with thick arms carrying wares into his establishment through an alley back door. Fruit, by the look of it. Alvarn waited until they were out of earshot before continuing. ¡°It is one of three runes.¡± ¡°Three? That¡¯s it?¡± Vidar never thought about there being any more than his family used, but he always assumed, apparently incorrectly, that there had to be a bunch with different applications. ¡°Unfortunately, yes. Officially, that is. There used to be more, a long time ago.¡± ¡°How long? And what do you mean used to be?¡± ¡°Way back when Sveland wasn¡¯t even called Sveland. Before the dragons were all banished by the angels.¡± ¡°Killed by the angels,¡± Vidar grunted. ¡°There are records of some simply leaving.¡± Vidar was about to argue the point but once again held himself back. ¡°What about the runes that are lost, then? Everyone just forgot to write them down or something?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t the guild teach you?¡± ¡°No. They teach us the kenaz, the sowilo, and the isaz. How to craft and empower them, how to trigger them, and how to rejuvenate them. That¡¯s what I¡¯m doing today, adding more of myself to spent runes. That¡¯s all. Nothing more, nothing less.¡± ¡°Isaz is the cold one?¡± Alvarn nodded. Vidar shivered. ¡°Don¡¯t see much need for that right at this moment.¡± ¡°The three runes all have many uses, too many to recount now. But¡­ Hold on, what is your name? How rude of me.¡± ¡°My name?¡± ¡°You already know mine.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Vidar.¡± He was about to give his family name as well, but didn¡¯t. It was no longer his right to do so. Alvarn waited a moment, as if expecting more, but then nodded. ¡°Vidar. An old name. Well, Vidar. What if I told you there are actually more runes out there?¡± Chapter 10
¡°More runes? You just said there aren¡¯t.¡± ¡°Not if you ask the guild, the Crown, the academics, or even the historians.¡± He was speaking fast now, looking around to make sure no one was walking near enough to hear his very audible whispering. ¡°I believe they¡¯re all wrong. Either that, or they¡¯re hiding their knowledge. I don¡¯t know which is the greater sin.¡± Vidar snorted. ¡°Sin. What do the church and the fallen angels care of lies?¡± Alvarn looked crestfallen, so Vidar relented. ¡°Go on, then, tell me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s about the sewers. That¡¯s why I begged my father to send me to the guild chapter in Halmstadt and not Stalheim, like he wanted. The capital might be more prestigious, but it lacks that one thing.¡± ¡°Sewers?¡± Vidar guessed. Alvarn nodded excitedly, gesticulating wildly in the air as he walked. ¡°The sewers. No other city in the world has them!¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Well, maybe. I don¡¯t know. There are no ones quite like the one here, that¡¯s for sure.¡± ¡°What¡¯s so special about this one?¡± ¡°The sea.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± He nodded again, then stopped dead in his tracks, looked around where they were walking, and promptly turned around again. ¡°We walked past the place.¡± As they walked, before Alvarn had time to start up his talk about the sea again, Vidar thought of something. ¡°The three runes. Can any of them form a barrier?¡± ¡°A what?¡± ¡°Like a shield you can¡¯t see.¡± Alvarn frowned. ¡°No. Nothing like that. Why do you ask?¡± ¡°There was this padlock at the church, the door with all the dead bodies.¡± ¡°Dead bodies?¡± Vidar looked up at Alvarn. The young man looked more alert again, if a little pale from the mention of dead bodies. ¡°Never mind that now. It¡¯s like we¡¯re talking around each other. You were supposed to teach me how to craft runes.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. One thing at a time. First of all, I have to go in here,¡± he said, stopping by another door. This time it was a modern brick house, small but well kept. ¡°Do I have to wait outside? It¡¯s freezing.¡± Alvarn looked in through the window at what sounded like a family with a bunch of children, judging by the laughing shrieks and playful arguing. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°Can¡¯t have you in there with me. Hold on a moment.¡± He rummaged around his clothes, then pulled hard on something, producing a sound of fabric ripping. Alvarn held out his hand to Vidar. ¡°Here. Take this and place it somewhere on you. Keep the symbol from your skin, mind you. It¡¯ll help keep you warm while I¡¯m in there. You won¡¯t get to keep it, though.¡± Vidar reverently accepted the wooden disc. This one was much smaller than the light rune, and the runic symbol upon it was different. Heat, sowilo, consisted of four connected, downward lines. It radiated a gentle warmth. Unlike what Vidar expected, the wood itself was not warm in the least. The symbol itself though, or the area right in front of the symbol, was, though not enough to burn him. ¡°In your clothes,¡± Vidar murmured. ¡°Genius.¡± Vidar slipped it into the chest pocket of his shirt and closed his coat again as Alvarn knocked on the door. A round-faced woman with blond locks escaping from under a white bonnet threw open the door, laughing while saying something to the noisy family behind her. Her face, along with her apron and the dark gray dress under it, were all dotted with what looked like white flour. ¡°Alvarn!¡± she said, a happy look on her face at first that then fell. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, love, but we don¡¯t need rejuvenation this week.¡± Alvarn pursed his lips and bent down to scoop up a handful of snow before letting it fall through his fingers. ¡°Still mighty cold out here, miss.¡± The woman ran her hands across her apron, smoothing out the wrinkles while glancing to the side. ¡°We are having some difficulties at the moment. The fee¡­¡± ¡°Say no more,¡± Alvarn said, stepping forward and squeezing between the woman and the frame of the door. ¡°I¡¯ll waive the fee this time.¡± ¡°No. You don¡¯t have to do that,¡± the woman said, turning around to face the interior of the house. She looked back to Vidar, then subtly wrinkled her nose. ¡°Aren¡¯t you coming in?¡± Vidar shook his head and ignored the relief on the woman¡¯s face as he declined the invite. This time, Alvarn was only gone for a few minutes. When he exited back into the street, he held out a whole loaf of bread to Vidar, his hand trembling a little. It was still warm, the air around it rippling in the cold. ¡°For me?¡± Vidar asked, reaching hesitantly to take it. Alvarn handed it over. ¡°I¡¯m fed well enough at the guild.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t you get in trouble if they don¡¯t pay?¡± Vidar asked around a huge mouthful of bread. ¡°Perhaps. You still wish to accompany me to my next destination? It is quite a walk and I¡¯m running behind.¡± ¡°Of course. You still haven¡¯t taught me a thing.¡± They set to walking again. Vidar was already hopelessly lost, so he just followed beside Alvarn. ¡°Well, listen up, then. It is deceptively easy and difficult to trigger runes.¡± Vidar immediately interrupted him. ¡°What about crafting them?¡± ¡°The crafting aspect is art. With a few strokes, you must embody the concept of the rune. Neither material nor the shape of the object on which the rune is inscribed matters to its function. The rune and only the rune is what lets us touch truth.¡± If the subject wasn¡¯t so interesting, Vidar would have immediately drifted off from the dry, lecturing tone of voice and the use of unnecessarily vague language. ¡°So all that matters is the symbol?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°What is truth?¡± Alvarn wriggled his eyebrows down at him. ¡°Quite the question, that.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± Alvarn sighed. ¡°For all practical purposes, you can ignore that and focus on the symbols.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°The rune symbols are not very complicated,¡± Vidar said. ¡°They are not,¡± Alvarn agreed. ¡°But you have to get them just right, or triggering the rune can have unforeseen circumstances.¡± ¡°You¡¯re being very mysterious,¡± Vidar said, taking a long step over a frozen puddle covered in snow. A small sliver of the snow was gone, showing the ice beneath. Judging by the snow strewn all around them, someone had recently slipped and fallen. ¡°Sorry. I have a tendency to emulate my teachers when I cite knowledge taught to me.¡± ¡°The gist of it is that I need to copy the rune real well or it will blow up in my face?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Yes. That is one of the possible consequences of getting it wrong.¡± ¡°So,¡± Vidar said, thinking. ¡°I could inscribe the runic symbol on a wall if I wanted?¡± ¡°Of course. Many of the guild¡¯s clients choose that route for their homes, as it allows the sowilo rune to spread its warmth better throughout an enclosed space.¡± ¡°That¡¯s all well and good, but how do I actually trigger one? I did it once before, like you said, but I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what I was doing.¡± ¡°You reach into it and impart part of your soul.¡± Vidar stopped dead in his tracks, dumbfounded. ¡°You¡¯re part of the church?¡± Alvarn frowned as he turned. ¡°The soul has always been part of us, since the first man. It has nothing to do with the church, but I can see why some people would think so. Again, though. It matters little in actual rune crafting. It¡¯s equal parts dogma and legend.¡± ¡°Then start telling me the things that do matter!¡± ¡°You felt your arm go numb.¡± ¡°I did,¡± Vidar confirmed. ¡°And you said something squeezed your heart.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°The rune scribes¡¯ guild teaches that our heart once provided the necessary essence, but we lost something a long time ago, and now that area is wilting and useless to us.¡± Alvarn held up his hands, forestalling Vidar¡¯s next complaint as he continued. ¡°In the end, the why does not matter. This means, in our case, that we must take from ourselves to rejuvenate the runes. Hence, the numbness. And in extreme cases, such as yours, seizures, unconsciousness, even death.¡± Vidar swallowed hard. ¡°So now you understand why you shouldn¡¯t learn? The guild isn¡¯t always a benevolent organization, but in this, they are right. The art of crafting runes is dangerous if you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to learn anyway,¡± Vidar said with no hesitation. ¡°You¡¯re either very brave or incredibly foolhardy,¡± Alvarn said, his solemn face breaking out into a grin. ¡°I¡¯m glad I met you.¡± ¡°The sentiment is mutual,¡± Vidar replied, forcing the last bit of bread into his mouth. When he next spoke, crumbs spattered in all directions. ¡°So, you are supposed to push essence from yourself into the rune to trigger it?¡± ¡°That is correct, but only a tiny amount.¡± ¡°How exactly do I do that?¡± he asked, swallowing. ¡°And why did it drain me so much to trigger the broken one?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t trigger it. You rejuvenated the kenaz rune. When it broke, the power held within must have leaked away. I don¡¯t know much about broken-down runes, but I don¡¯t see any other way. The more you practice and perfect your art, the less you will have to give of yourself to rejuvenate the rune. The act of triggering one is like tickling it in comparison.¡± ¡°Tickling? Am I supposed to make the symbol giggle?¡± ¡°Not quite. The process of triggering and rejuvenating is the same. First you create the rune and bestow some of your power to rejuvenate it. Then, you trigger it. And when it eventually fades, you rejuvenate it to give it new life.¡± Alvarn¡¯s face was flushed red from all his talking and gesticulating. This young man really loved the subject. That much was clear to Vidar. ¡°And that process is?¡± ¡°What?¡± Alvarn asked. ¡°It¡¯s like you¡¯re talking around the actual instruction on how to perform these wondrous tasks because you don¡¯t want me doing them.¡± Alvarn removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt before placing them back upon his nose. ¡°That is not it. Not at all. I¡¯ve already told you how to perform these steps, and besides, you¡¯ve already done it before. The hardest part is already done for you. Did you know it takes most students weeks to trigger their first rune?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me shit,¡± Vidar said, eyeing Alvarn¡¯s cloak. The snow touching it melted almost instantly, rather than build like on his own coat. Warmth runes. Vidar needed more of them. ¡°I was half-dead when I did it. Please just tell me what I did so I can repeat it. And please tell it in simple terms so I can understand.¡± ¡°Simple terms,¡± Alvarn repeated, stopping to think. After scratching his cheek for a bit, his gaze met Vidar¡¯s. ¡°To rejuvenate a rune, you pull essence from yourself and transfer it to the rune using your will. Concentrate and imagine the essence flowing from you and into the symbol. Just a tiny sliver at first, yes? You don¡¯t want to drain yourself to the point you pass out again.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it? I¡¯m supposed to want the rune to receive essence from me?¡± ¡°Use your will to funnel it into the runic symbol. That¡¯s important, you don¡¯t want any going into the materials the rune is inscribed upon, or it will just go to waste.¡± ¡°Simple enough,¡± Vidar said. ¡°I think.¡± ¡°Not so simple.¡± ¡°What about triggering?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°That¡¯s much easier. Just will the rune to open.¡± Vidar glared. ¡°Just will the rune to open.¡± Alvarn looked up at the sky and then suddenly hurried off. Vidar half ran to catch up to Alvarn¡¯s considerably longer stride. ¡°I¡¯m late,¡± Alvarn said. ¡°I have plenty more stops to make and very little time for them. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to go at it alone for now to catch up. We must meet again so you can tell me of the sewers.¡± ¡°Right. Sewers,¡± Vidar said. Alvarn¡¯s interest in those had slipped Vidar¡¯s mind. Talking of runes was far more interesting, after all. ¡°Tomorrow after dark at the steps?¡± ¡°Tomorrow after dark,¡± Alvarn confirmed. Then he held out his hand. Vidar grabbed it and they squeezed. Alvarn grinned. ¡°Well met, but I was holding out my hand for you to give me the sowilo rune back.¡± ¡°Are you sure you need it?¡± Vidar asked, letting go. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got quite a few.¡± Alvarn kept his hand out in front of him, palm up. ¡°Work on triggering the kenaz rune before anything else. One step at a time, or you¡¯ll permanently damage yourself.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Vidar grumbled. He took out the rune and gave it back to Alvarn, who glanced down at the small wooden disc before letting it slide into a pocket. ¡°I just hope I won¡¯t freeze to death before tomorrow,¡± Vidar said, shivering. Alvarn grinned, half turned, and made as if to walk. ¡°Tomorrow, then? Don¡¯t forget.¡± ¡°Tomorrow,¡± Vidar agreed. With that, Alvarn was off. With still quite a bit of time before Vidar would have to report to Embla, he made it back to a street he recognized and set off toward the church. With Alvarn mentioning how there was only current knowledge of three different runes, Vidar thought he may have stumbled upon something incredible. The padlock remained under the pile of snow where he¡¯d hidden it. Initial inspection revealed nothing. A thick layer of rust hid everything and anything beneath. Vidar cursed. He¡¯d hoped to find the runic symbol legible through the rust, but no such luck. Something blocked his shovel when he struck it, an unrecognizable, translucent blur. It was a rune. It had to be. Vidar put it in his coat. There might be a way to get past the rust. He¡¯d have to make some inquiries. Once back at Embla¡¯s, having had no success at finding a blacksmith who¡¯d even talk to him, he handed over the light rune. ¡°What is this?¡± Embla asked, taking the wooden disc. ¡°What do you mean? It¡¯s a new light rune.¡± She handed it back. ¡°It¡¯s not triggered. How are we supposed to use it? Go back and have the scribe student trigger it, or you¡¯ll have to go down there tomorrow in the dark.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Vidar grumbled. He had no intention of going back to Alvarn already. From the rune scribe¡¯s instruction, it should be simple enough to trigger this one little rune. Vidar already did it once before. How difficult could it be? At supper in the barn, Ida immediately approached him. ¡°Ready for adventure, then?¡± ¡°What?¡± Vidar asked, looking up from his bowl of porridge. Ida leaned forward a little and pouted with her lower lip. ¡°You¡¯re coming with us, aren¡¯t you?¡± Then he remembered. The break-in. He didn¡¯t have time for it, not if he wanted to get anywhere with the rune. He¡¯d already tried several times while walking from Embla¡¯s to the barn, holding on to the wood and brushing the symbol with his thumb. All his attempts so far had ended in failure. Nothing happened, no matter how much he wanted the rune to light up in his pocket. Perhaps what he needed was something to take his mind off it for a little while. ¡°I said I would, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Great. We have to do it tonight, when most of the family and staff are gone.¡± Vidar emptied his bowl. ¡°Where are they going?¡± ¡°Church,¡± she whispered after leaning in so no one around them would hear. ¡°It¡¯s some special day.¡± He¡¯d learned the different important days for the church during the year at one point when his father copied a book detailing the different known religions in the world, but then promptly forgot them all. Few people belonged to the church these days, and they were no longer the power they¡¯d been way back when the angels actually shared their teachings through the clergy. ¡°Where is the house?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°We¡¯ll show you.¡± And just like that, they entered into the late afternoon, with the sun already gone from the sky, to break the law. Like he¡¯d figured, the house was far from Andersburg. Few places in Rat Town would actually be worth breaking into with how little most of the inhabitants owned and how fiercely they protected their meager possessions. While other parts of town were more regularly patrolled by guardsmen, the citizens were far more lax in their own security. They trusted the Crown to keep them and their wealth safe. Now that he considered what they were actually about to do and the potential consequences of being caught, perhaps agreeing to this was not such a great decision. Then again, Ida sounded confident. He did need coin, now more than ever. If he wanted to craft runes and sell them, he needed supplies. Making coin required having coin, and he could not rely on finding more silver down in the sewers. Telling Alvarn he wouldn¡¯t sell was a necessary lie to get the scribe to teach him. Vidar liked the awkward merchant¡¯s son, but letting an opportunity such as this slip past his fingers was wholly unacceptable. If Alvarn ever found out, he¡¯d see reason. Chapter 11
¡°Here it is,¡± Ida said, nodding to a house towering over its neighbors. ¡°It¡¯s four stories tall. You want to rob a damn tower?¡± Vidar glanced to Siv, who would not meet his eyes. She looked down at her feet, squirming. ¡°You sure this is a good idea, Ida?¡± ¡°I¡¯m tired of being hungry and cold,¡± Ida said, her usually warm demeanor absent from her face. The way she hunched her shoulders now as she looked up at the building made Vidar think of a cornered animal. Good thing she hadn¡¯t brought her bow or she was liable to shoot someone. ¡°I¡¯ll be coming into a bunch of silver soon, if all goes to plan,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Let¡¯s not do this. Just wait a little longer and we won¡¯t have to risk having our hands separated from our arms.¡± A look of uncertainty flashed over her, but then Ida set her jaw. ¡°Thank you, but no. We can¡¯t rely on the generosity of others. You do not have to come, but I¡¯m going through with this.¡± She turned and shot him a grin. ¡°Besides, what kind of guild leader is afraid of a little burglary?¡± He looked from one sister to the other. Ida folded her arms and took a wide, confident stance. It was a front to hide her nervousness. Even he could tell that much. Siv looked at him pleadingly. She didn¡¯t want this to happen either, but from the look on her face, she knew her sister would go through with it alone if he didn¡¯t join her, and Siv realized that might not end well for her. ¡°I¡¯ll come,¡± Vidar grumbled. ¡°How do we get in?¡± She looked around them to make sure they were alone. More people than usual were out despite the darkness blanketing the city and, for once, it wasn¡¯t snowing. That meant plenty of onlookers, so Ida gave a slight nod to the rooftop of the house right next to the stone tower. ¡°We can reach the second-story windows from up there.¡± ¡°You want to climb up to the roofs? One slip and we¡¯re dead!¡± Vidar said, a little too forcefully. Siv put a finger in front of her lips, urging him to quiet down. ¡°Sorry,¡± he murmured. ¡°But it¡¯s true. We can¡¯t climb that.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve done it a bunch of times. You just have to be careful of where you put your feet.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve broken into other houses?¡± he asked, keeping his voice low. She shook her head. ¡°No, but I¡¯ve been on the roofs. There¡¯s always a way up.¡± ¡°And a quick way down,¡± he added. ¡°You scared of heights?¡± she asked, wiggling her eyebrows while grinning. Ida headed into a narrow gap between buildings and waved for them to follow. Once on the other side, her plan was obvious. Several wooden crates were stacked on top of each other by the back of a nearby building. Together, the crates were tall enough for them to scramble up onto the slanting roof. Getting past that point took quite a bit of effort in the slick snow. Thankfully, the roof was free of ice and the top was flat and wide enough for Vidar to crawl up and keep himself from falling down. Despite his best efforts, he got a glimpse of the street below. His vision spun to the point Ida had to hold him still while Vidar shut his eyes tight for a moment. All three crawled forward on their bellies. On the off chance someone looked up, they would still be relatively hard to spot in the dark as long as they kept their profile low and near the top of the roof. They crossed over to another roof easily enough, but when they got to the edge of the second house, there was a gap over to the third and final building before reaching the stone tower and their target, a dark and uninviting window. ¡°It¡¯s not that far,¡± Ida whispered. ¡°We jump the gap.¡± Vidar couldn¡¯t believe his ears. ¡°I must¡¯ve misheard you. You didn¡¯t say jump, did you?¡± ¡°Look,¡± she said, pointing to the other roof before moving her level palm from left to right. ¡°The next one is flat. You won¡¯t slide down to the side, no matter what. It¡¯s almost narrow enough to step over. Anyone could make this jump.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see you try it,¡± Vidar grumbled. Ida jumped, the end of her knitted scarf fluttering in the air. She didn¡¯t even take a running start. Siv followed without hesitation, leaving Vidar alone on the second rooftop. Their landings on the snow-covered roof barely made a sound. People were talking down at street level, but it was in a conversational tone, nothing alarming. They hadn¡¯t been spotted. Vidar crawled to the edge of the building and peered down. The gap was similar in width to the narrow path Ida led him down when escaping from the guards, except a little wider. The length of the gap wasn¡¯t the main problem. It was how the other building was slightly taller, meaning he¡¯d have to jump forward and up at the same time. He swallowed hard, then crawled back, trying to ignore the thawing snow dampening his coat and the cold seeping in. Ida waved for him to hurry up. There was an element of timing to this whole endeavor, he knew. If they stalled too long, the residents and their staff would show up. That would spell their doom. Pushing down his fear of falling, Vidar crawled back and then got to his hands and knees before finally gathering enough courage to let go with his hands and awkwardly stand, bent over at his waist. Vidar awkwardly shuffled to the edge and leapt off, pushing away with all his might. It was too much. His foot lost its hold of the roof and slid backwards. Rather than clear the jump, he fell forward and down. At the last moment, he grabbed on to the edge of the third roof while his feet remained on the second, leaving him hanging over the gap. ¡°Help,¡± he squeaked, holding on for dear life. Going back was impossible, so he pushed with one foot while reaching forward with the other. Ida and Siv were there in an instant, pulling on his coat while he scrabbled to get the rest of himself over. All three fell on their backs on the third roof, panting hard. ¡°I almost died,¡± Vidar said, his whole body trembling. ¡°What in dragon dung¡¯s name was that?¡± Ida asked, her face appearing right over his. ¡°That was the most embarrassing leap I¡¯ve ever seen in my life. If you can even call that sideways shuffle a leap. You¡¯re like a cripple!¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°I never said anything about being athletic,¡± he hissed back, heat rising in his face. Siv pushed them apart and put her finger to her lips again. Ida harrumphed but pulled back to crawl toward the window. Vidar followed and soon saw something that¡¯d make their entrance impossible. He pointed. ¡°Bars.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Ida said. ¡°That won¡¯t stop me.¡± She brought out a long, thin bit of metal and slipped it between the edge of the window and the wood surrounding the glass and the frame. After jiggling it a little, she pulled up and toward herself. Vidar didn¡¯t notice anything different, but Ida then opened the window and got down on her back to scoot closer. Two horizontal metal bars were set in a heavy frame, but they were spaced far enough apart that her arms fit between them. Ida squirmed and cursed for a few minutes, then something inside audibly clicked. When she withdrew her hands, she was holding a thick padlock with some tiny bits of metal sticking out where the key should go. That mad girl had picked the lock while being upside down in the snow. She hadn¡¯t even been able to see it. Vidar accepted the padlock and Ida withdrew the lockpicks, then nodded for him to hand it over to Siv, who placed it down on the roof while Ida pushed into the room. He followed. The inside was surprisingly cold. Far warmer than the outside, but still quite chilly. ¡°Why are there no heat runes active?¡± Vidar asked, his small voice bouncing off the bare stone walls. Ida was standing by the door, pressing her ear against it. She turned and gestured for him to keep quiet. He joined her by the door and, together, they listened. ¡°I can¡¯t hear anything,¡± he whispered. She shook her head. ¡°Me neither. They¡¯re all gone.¡± They looked back at Siv outside the window as Ida opened the door. It led out into a corridor. At the far end, to the left, were stairs leading both up and down. The door to the empty room they¡¯d entered was unadorned and simple, like the sort you¡¯d see leading to a storage room and the like. With how empty it was, these people apparently had very little need for storage. Other doors were more interesting. One was painted green, another blue. Several were prettied with hanging cloths nailed to them or animal patterns carved into the wood and painted a deeper color. The pain was chipped and worn, but obvious care had gone into personalizing each. ¡°Children?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen any children, but they are old. Perhaps children used to live here.¡± ¡°Where do we go?¡± Ida shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m no expert. Look into the rooms.¡± The chill lingered in the air even here, and lanterns hung along the far wall, providing just enough light to see by. No runes. ¡°I don¡¯t think these people are all that wealthy,¡± Vidar muttered to himself. Ida was already gone, having entered one of the rooms. He tried a door at random and found himself in a darkened chamber where a sizable bed dominated the space. A small desk stood by a window overlooking the street below. Rifling through the papers on top of the desk, Vidar only found correspondence. He briefly considered reading a letter but found that invasion of privacy far more tasteless than even breaking into their home. Besides, it¡¯d take him forever to get through that small handwriting. Instead, he tried the drawers. The only thing of interest he found was a letter opener. It sort of looked like a knife, so he pocketed it. Alvarn wouldn¡¯t accept the weapon, but he might feel more comfortable with this. Vidar doubted the scribe student would be thrown out of the guild for a little threatening. He glanced to the side and saw what they¡¯d come for by the side of the bed. ¡°Ida?¡± he asked. When she didn¡¯t come, he repeated himself a little louder. ¡°Ida?¡± ¡°What?¡± she asked, turning up at the door. ¡°All I¡¯m finding is old, musty clothes!¡± Vidar pointed to a strongbox squeezed in between the bed and the wall. She swallowed hard when she spotted it and hurried forth to sit on her knees right in front of the thick-looking metal door. ¡°Can you open it?¡± She withdrew her lockpicks again, looking at one small bit of metal after another before finding one to her satisfaction. ¡°Of course. It might take a while. Keep looking while I work on this thing.¡± Vidar exited the room and went through the other doors on the floor, not really finding anything valuable. He didn¡¯t really know what to look for, either. If there were coins to be had, they¡¯d be in the strongbox. Frustrated grunts drifted through the still, silent air of the floor as Vidar made his way to the stairs. He listened intently but still heard nothing. They were truly alone in this huge tower. More lanterns flickered along the wall to the steps going down. The third floor was fully dark, so he headed down. The floor opened up into a big entrance hall by the front door, and beyond that, Vidar spotted a sitting room. Walking through those spacious halls made him jumpy. While the lanterns did give some light, it was far from enough, and many of the furniture and knickknacks cast vaguely human-shaped shadows. Uncomfortable was not a strong enough word to describe how he felt lurking around on the ground floor, and he still couldn¡¯t find anything worth stealing. A set of expensive-looking wine glasses would fetch quite a bit if sold to the right person, he was sure, but getting a bunch of glass out that small window and away over the rooftops without breaking them was an impossible task. On his quest through the floor, he found his way to a kitchen. Here, he found plenty worth stealing. The cabinets were brimming with food, and a hatch in the floor opened up to a small compartment for storing dried fish and meat. Vidar stuffed his mouth and his pockets, then found a small cloth sack that he filled to bursting before fastening it to his belt with bits of string meant to keep the sack closed. He also found a whole meat pie, fresh enough that it must be what they were having for supper. When he was done, half of it rested in his belly. He panted from having eaten too much too quickly as he continued deeper into the house. The servants¡¯ quarters were at the far end. He ignored those and entered what appeared to be a work room or a small library. Shelves brimming with books of all shapes and sizes lined every wall. A small and rickety-looking desk stood in the center of the room, a reddish-brown, circular carpet under it. Books could certainly be valuable, but he didn¡¯t have time to check each volume. The desk did not hold any books or written letters or notes. What it did hold were a few pens, a set of thin paintbrushes, and a small bag with bottles of ink and colors for the brushes. ¡°Perfect,¡± he mumbled, removing a small loaf of bread to fit this new treasure into his pocket. This was just what he needed to start selling runes once he got the hang of crafting them. A sound reached his ears and Vidar froze, his heart pounding. Another sound. Someone talking, but muted. He hurried to the front hall and his eyes widened when he peered out a small side window. People. They were obviously on their way into the house. One man was fiddling with a ring filled with different keys, trying to find the right one. Vidar rushed up the stairs, careful not to make too much sound. ¡°Ida! They¡¯re coming!¡± he hissed, the sound coming out strangled. She looked up from the still-closed strongbox, her eyes wide with fright. No, Vidar thought, not fright. Excitement. Ida¡¯s eyes glittered and the mad girl grinned as she pulled away the lockpicks. To Vidar¡¯s surprise, she opened the box. He walked up, intending to grab her arm and pull her back. ¡°We have to leave.¡± ¡°Empty,¡± she said, her voice flat. ¡°What?¡± She showed the empty strongbox, muttering, ¡°Not a single coin.¡± They both ran to the empty room where they entered and closed the door behind them. From the sounds coming from downstairs, the family had made it into the hall but had yet to notice the intrusion. Ida opened the window. ¡°Did you find anything?¡± ¡°Just food,¡± he said, holding up the sack. ¡°And some paint and brushes.¡± ¡°Some burglars we are,¡± she said, letting out a nervous giggle as she climbed out onto the other roof. Vidar pushed the sack out first, to Siv¡¯s waiting hands, then followed. Going back outside, the cold seized his muscles and the tip of his fingers immediately started feeling like someone was pricking them with a needle. Ida closed the window behind him and all three began the arduous journey back down to the street. With proper ground beneath their feet, they ran. At first, they kept silent, but then they laughed, whooped, and cheered. Vidar¡¯s first break-in did not bring much in the way of valuable loot, but they didn¡¯t leave empty-handed. That night, everyone in the small shacks got a second dinner before turning in for the night. Vidar would have loved to keep some for himself, but he didn¡¯t have anywhere to store belongings, and their hungry gazes got to him when he brought his part of the bounty. He¡¯d have to find a place to keep his things, and he¡¯d have to find it soon, or Embla¡¯s thug would just shake him upside down until every coin fell out of Vidar¡¯s pockets. With their bellies full, the boys in Vidar¡¯s shack soon snored contentedly. His own eyelids were heavy, but he could not allow himself to sleep. Not yet. First, he needed to trigger the light rune. Chapter 12
Holding the rune out in front of him, Vidar closed his eyes to focus. Bits and pieces of the event down in the sewers were flashing before his inner eye. His state of mind when triggering the broken rune was not one he could replicate offhand. Even if he could, that was not the task before him. Gentle, Alvarn had said. Vidar needed to be gentle. The goal here was to trigger the thing, not push too much into it and break it. He¡¯d be in deep shit then. He tried to find that balance, tried to remain calm. ¡°Trigger,¡± he whispered, careful not to wake the others. Nothing happened. Vidar narrowed his eyes and breathed out, trying to imagine essence going from himself and into the rune, specifically the runic symbol etched into the wooden disc. Again, nothing happened. Not at first. Vidar pushed again. The trick was to will his essence into the rune, not to force a triggering. There was a difference of mindset in Alvarn¡¯s explanation Vidar hadn¡¯t understood at the time. The rune could not trigger itself. That was what he¡¯d been trying. Now, instead, he willed whatever essence his body stored to flow from the tip of his finger touching the etching and into the runic symbol itself. ¡°Trigger,¡± he whispered again. This time, it was a command. Brilliant light filled the small shack. It shone with far less power than the one he¡¯d set alight down in the sewers, and for that, he was grateful. If it¡¯d been that powerful, he¡¯d have surely been blinded. Going from pitch black to staring right into the light as the rune triggered was painful enough, and spots swam in his vision. The fingers on his hand tingled, that was all. Some of the boys grumbled and stirred, but they did not wake. Vidar suppressed a cry of celebration and instead clenched his free hand into a tight fist. He¡¯d done it. He¡¯d really done it. He wasn¡¯t useless after all. Wanting to conserve the light for the next day and his second journey into the sewer system, Vidar focused again. This time, he attempted to draw essence from the already triggered rune, figuring that would render the rune inactive. When Vidar couldn¡¯t quite make it work, he shifted his attempt to instead push essence into it, thinking it would allow him to then reverse the flow. To his amazement, it actually worked almost right away. Essence drained from the rune and into himself. At first, it was only a trickle, then the floodgates opened and far too much flowed into him, more than he¡¯d anticipated. A lot more. No matter what he tried, the flow would not stop. Not until he dropped the rune, cutting the physical connection. Vidar threw open the door to the shack and stumbled out before falling to all fours. He vomited again and again. His body trembled and shook, and his heart felt like it would explode in his chest at any moment. Several minutes of Vidar lying on his side in the snow, dry heaving, and whimpering followed, before the feeling of being overwhelmed with essence subsided somewhat. For the first time since being a small child, he was grateful for the cold snow. The chill soothed him. He wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed by the time he made it back into the shed, but he barely managed to find the light rune again before the need to sleep overwhelmed him, and he fell into a blissful slumber. Most everyone was more jovial the next morning, having slept better without hunger pangs chasing their dreams. The lack of proper valuables from their heist hadn¡¯t affected Ida¡¯s mood either, and she was unusually chipper, even for her. ¡°Want to try another house tonight?¡± she whispered once they were seated and eating. Siv looked up, horrified. ¡°You¡¯ve already found another?¡± Vidar asked, forcing down a watery gruel with suspicious dark spots in it. ¡°Well, no¡­¡± She grinned. ¡°But I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be able to find an empty one.¡± He thought back on the uncertainty and anxiety he¡¯d been holding at bay for most of the night before, as they made it through an unknown family¡¯s house. ¡°No, I have a previous engagement I have to keep. I don¡¯t think that sort of thing is for me. It¡¯s too dangerous.¡± Siv nodded vigorously as she gestured something to Ida. ¡°That¡¯s ¡®no,¡¯¡± Ida said, nodding to Siv. ¡°She has her own finger language so she can nag at me.¡± Ida repeated the gesture. ¡°If you¡¯re too good for a little theft with your previous engagement,¡± she said, trying to emulate the nasal voice of a noble, ¡°then I¡¯ll go alone. The rush last night was something else, I tell you. Next time, I¡¯ll actually get some good stuff too.¡± ¡°Be careful,¡± Vidar warned. Embla kept her stony expression but could not fully hide her surprise when Vidar produced the new light rune. He¡¯d triggered it in his coat pocket without anyone seeing and now held it up for all to see. After receiving a new map with locations for more blockages, Vidar set off to once again enter the underground waste and water system. Before that, however, he searched the alleyways near the Rats¡¯ Nest for a place to hide his things. With the paints and the inks, along with the padlock and letter opener, his pockets were far too full for comfort. Also, he didn¡¯t want to lose anything down there. An old shipping crate in an alleyway surrounded by others like it made for the perfect hiding spot. It was old and half-rotted, so no one would be coming for it. With another crate on top of it, and one under, it was decently protected against the snow. Well enough for Vidar¡¯s purpose, at least. Moving the top crate gave him direct access to the middle container through a small, rotted-out hole. When he was satisfied the crate wasn¡¯t infested with rats, he lowered his prizes, gathered in the cloth bag from the night before for extra protection, and returned the top crate to its original position. His things would be safe here. After some consideration, he kept the coins and the knife on him. You never knew when those might come in handy. The markings on the map were numbered this time in order of priority, according to Embla. Not surprisingly, the top one was not in the poorer districts. After quite a trek to a part of Halmstadt named Gamletull, he found the entrance in the ground. It wasn¡¯t far from the wide but tranquil river running near the inner wall separating the richest part of the city, and the keep, from everyone else. He shut the hatch above him without issue before starting his descent. This time, he was ready for the dark. Once down, with his feet firmly planted on the stone, he brought out the wooden disc with the runic symbol for light, kenaz. Triggering it was easy now that he¡¯d succeeded a few times. To conserve its essence, he¡¯d stopped its light after showing it to Embla. With the night before still fresh in his mind, he¡¯d changed his approach somewhat, only giving the essence in the rune the gentlest of taps to close the gap. In his mind, he saw a circle of essence surrounded by a thin border, with the runic symbol in the middle. When he triggered a rune, he imagined poking a tiny hole in that border to let the essence flow out. In this case, it provided light. Conversely, to render the rune inert again, Vidar restored that border in his mind, using the essence flowing from his body. It used even less than triggering a rune did, and being able to both trigger a rune and then render it inert after only a few tries was immensely satisfying. Finally, he¡¯d found something he was good at.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Water surged through the underground canal in the middle of the corridor, overflowing and spilling out onto the walkways. A few seconds of standing there was enough for his shoes to get wet and for his toes to freeze. The roar of the water told him he was close to an intake. It wasn¡¯t quite as powerful as the cacophony near the sea, and he realized the water must be coming from the river. Designing and building this place underground must have taken years and years. Strange that he knew so very little of the system before all this. With only water flowing, it didn¡¯t even smell. Well, it did have a smell to it, but nothing too bad. The air was heavy and humid, and a slight scent of the sea still lingered. Curious, he bent down with his free hand cupped. The water tasted fresh and clean. Vidar stood with a groan. The sound was quickly washed away by the roar of the water, but the aches in his shoulders, back, and legs did not disappear with it. These last few days had seen him a lot more physically active than all his years prior, with the night before taking the ordeal a whole step further. Climbing houses was not something his body was used to. This constant cold did little to help. As Vidar walked down the path that would take him to the blockage, he dreamed of the day he¡¯d make himself a whole pile of sowilo runes to keep beneath his clothes and even in his shoes. That way, he¡¯d never have to be cold again. The mere thought warmed him somewhat, despite the freezing water soaking through his shoes and now even his trousers. He shone the light down on the floor. The water level steadily rose as he headed farther down the walkway. When it reached his knees, Vidar stopped and held up the light in front of him to try to get a better look. The light hit a wall not much farther in, so he continued. He gasped as the water reached a particularly sensitive part of him, but he soldiered on. Something soft and mushy blocked the water from flowing freely down what felt like a hole similar to last time. He pushed and kicked at it until the hole made a slurping sound, sucking the whole thing in. Vidar didn¡¯t know what it¡¯d been, and he didn¡¯t want to know. Suddenly, with the water¡¯s path no longer blocked, it began to pull on him. The strength of that pull was much stronger than he¡¯d anticipated, and he felt his boots slipping. With nothing to grab on to, he started panicking. Vidar looked around, cursing. The stone wall was not entirely flush, with some stones jutting out a little. Unfortunately, the humidity made it next to impossible to hold on to them. Each breath he expelled created a small cloud in front of his face as he dug in his nails with a clawlike grip around a stone that provided the tiniest bit of grip. Heart racing, he turned so his back was against the left wall of the walkway, and then dropped the light rune into his pocket to free up his other hand. Using both, he was able to stabilize himself enough to wait out the water draining away. When it only reached up to his knees again, he allowed himself a moment to relax. He hadn¡¯t fallen into the water again. Small victories. Vidar pointed at the trench in the ground through which the water flowed and laughed. ¡°Take that, hole! You didn¡¯t get me!¡± The words echoed through the corridor, and for a moment, Vidar was afraid he¡¯d jinxed himself and the intake would collapse, allowing the river to flow in freely to drown him. Nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief. Bringing the light rune back out, he examined the map. Two more spots were marked. One was far off, but the other wasn¡¯t too bad. If he was reading the map correctly, there should be a way to get there without having to go back up to the surface. In his drenched, freezing state, Vidar did not want to surface in the same spot where he¡¯d descended. The cold would surely put him at death¡¯s door again. So, he decided to take the underground route to the next spot. It wasn¡¯t dotted on the map like this first blockage had been. Instead, it ringed a large area. He briefly wondered how the people who provided these maps to Embla figured out where these blockages would show up, and why they were sometimes able to pinpoint an exact location and other times only knew the general area. Perhaps he¡¯d meet these people someday and get the opportunity to ask them. If not, it didn¡¯t matter too much. All Vidar needed to know was where to go. A part of the area between himself and the next blockage was filled in with diagonal lines with an arrow pointed to it. Next to the arrow was a short note. The letters danced around each other no matter how much he focused or tried to relax his vision. The runic symbol for the light rune, kenaz, sat still in the middle of the note, like a firm anchor in a roiling sea. Something about that area, and a long corridor leading off in a completely different direction, would affect, or be affected by, the light rune. Either that, or you needed a light rune to go there. No, that couldn¡¯t be it. You needed a light rune wherever you went down in the sewers, if Embla¡¯s knowledge wasn¡¯t flawed. With no answers to be gleaned from the note, Vidar shrugged and put the map away. His ability to read was getting worse by the day, it seemed. Either way, he¡¯d find out when he got there. The journey across different walkways, straight corridors, and crossing bridges was not particularly arduous, but it did take time to make progress. Not wanting to jump across, Vidar often needed to trek quite far up or down a corridor to find one of the bridges, then go all the way back and pick the right corridor. Even with the clearly marked map, it took some doing finding his way. At least the light rune kept its steady, bright shine to show the way. Until he reached the marked area, that was. That was how he realized he¡¯d walked into it. The light from the rune flickered. Another step made it flicker even more and when he stepped back, it shone steady once again. Confused, he held it out in front of him until he found the exact spot in the corridor. It looked no different. Nothing about it stood out in relation to every other stone floor, wall, or ceiling in this place. Nevertheless, the rune was somehow affected. Vidar groaned and sat down to think. No water, or waste for that matter, ran in that particular corridor, so it was mostly dry and the floor was unnaturally warm, just like everywhere else. The most sensible thing would¡¯ve been to go back up and then descend closer to the second blockage, bypassing this area altogether. Unfortunately, he¡¯d have to wait for his clothes to dry first. That would take hours. He really needed to get his hands on some sowilo runes to combat the freezing temperatures. Spring was still months out. Not wanting to wait, Vidar closed his eyes to focus on the kenaz rune in his hand. In his mind, he saw a perfect circle filled with tranquil essence slowly moving toward the opening he¡¯d made at the top. That energy leaving the circle made the kenaz rune produce its light. Holding that image in his mind as he opened his eyes proved difficult, and doing so while standing up was almost impossible. Instead, he sat back down right near the line where his rune would start to deteriorate. He scooted forward and saw before his inner eye how essence began draining from the circle. It was only a little at first, but once he moved farther past that invisible line, it quickened, and he saw the bright light flicker through his closed eyelids. The solution to the problem before him was simple. Vidar needed to add essence to the rune while he made his way forward. Hopefully, the area affecting his rune did not extend far. With that idea firmly set in his mind, Vidar executed it. First, he stood. The circle wavered, but he held on to the idea of it. Drawing essence from himself and then pushing it into a second opening at the bottom of the circle worked almost right away, but doing so while walking was like balancing an inkpot filled over the brim without spilling. Ever so carefully, Vidar moved one foot forward and shifted his weight. Essence drained from the circle, but the kenaz rune did not flicker this time. Vidar¡¯s idea worked. Since he was adding essence at the same rate as it was taken from the rune, it kept glowing. The painfully slow walk meant the essence Vidar himself spent to keep the rune going started to add up. At first, the tips of his fingers tingled, then grew cold, and finally numb. That feeling then traveled down his fingers, then his hand. Before he¡¯d made it more than a couple of steps, it¡¯d already reached his arm, and he had to prop it up with his other arm to keep the rune from falling from his numb fingers. The rising panic did little to help his concentration, and the image in his mind wavered even more. At one point, when he spotted a corridor shooting off to his left, the whole barrier around the circle dimmed, allowing the essence inside to leak out in all directions. The numbness immediately traveled to his shoulder and began spreading into his chest. Vidar hurried his steps. The image in his mind wavered even more and almost crumbled, but he felt the unseen draining effect lessen. That was enough for Vidar to regain some semblance of control, but the damage was already done, and he dropped the rune, no longer able to keep his fist closed around its base. The image in his mind blinked away that instant and the numbness stopped its forward crawl through his chest. Swearing, he got down on hands and feet to search the floor in complete darkness. If this one broke too, he¡¯d never, ever return to the sewers without at least ten of them. Even with only one hand, it didn¡¯t take long to find the rune. Rather than triggering it again, he inched forward through the dark, careful not to repeat the mistake that saw him plunging into ice cold water last time. Once he judged himself to have moved sufficiently far from the offshoot corridor in the middle of that draining effect, Vidar once again triggered the rune. His control grew each time he imagined the circle in his mind. The rune brightened the entire corridor before he carefully scaled back the opening he¡¯d just created, effectively lessening the essence flowing out from the kenaz rune. Breathing took some effort with how far the numbness reached into his chest, but it didn¡¯t take too long for it to withdraw to his shoulder, then his arm. Holding up the rune, Vidar saw the shadow that was the other corridor. The draining effect was more powerful around that opening. He wondered what lay down that path but resigned himself to never knowing. If the alternative to staying in the dark on that question was walking through literal darkness, then he¡¯d rather not know. Chapter 13
Vidar made his way to the second blockage, but it took far longer than he¡¯d like to pinpoint its exact location since the area marked on the map was so wide. This time, it wasn¡¯t a hole in the wall where the water was supposed to flow through, but one of the open, tall drops into a basin. The groove in the floor, where the water was supposed to flow, was all but empty except for a trickle at the bottom. Unsure of what might have caused the stoppage, Vidar held the light rune out in front of him, pointing it up the stone corridor. Shadows of strange shapes moved with the light up ahead, but they were too far off to get a clear view of what was amiss. He made it farther up the walkway and couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. The whole corridor was blocked off. Pieces of broken-down wooden boxes sat atop twigs and bushes, cloth, and decidedly rotten carcasses too far gone to make out what sort of animal they¡¯d come from. The enormous blockage must have built and built upon itself over several years, from just a single piece getting stuck sideways. Very little water made it through at the bottom. Vidar wasn¡¯t sure what to do. From what he could hear, the water still swooshed about on the other side, and the whole thing creaked ominously. He peered deeper into the mess of garbage. A threadbare coat that might once have been a green hue clung to two branches, stretched taut between them. One of its pockets bulged noticeably. He glanced at the other pieces of garbage surrounding the jacket and then at the whole blockage. The smallest of nudges might be enough for the whole thing to crumble. Vidar would have to be careful. Being light and small, he figured he¡¯d reach in and empty the pocket without doing too much damage. After that, all he had to do was pull out the correct branch to let some water flow out without immediately destroying the whole blockage. With his way forward carefully planned, Vidar reached in with his entire now-recovered arm. The coat was still just out of reach, and he had to press himself into the disgusting pile to grab hold of the pocket. Pulling on the outer fabric of the pocket made one of the branches shift slightly, and water spurted forth with surprising pressure in a tight arc, hitting the side of Vidar¡¯s head. Startled, he let the coat go. It did not make the water stop. The mess of wood and garbage that made up the blockage creaked and groaned. Vidar took a careful step back and watched a sizable chunk of the blockage before him shift. He turned and ran. A deafening crash sounded behind him and the roar of water soon followed. Before he made it to the perpendicular corridor off to his left, the water already reached well past his feet. The frothing river surged past just after he turned in and hugged the wall. Plenty of water rushed in to drench his pants, but it didn¡¯t rise higher than that. Once the first massive wave passed and the amount of running water returned to normal, Vidar trudged back into the corridor but found no trace of the coat or anything else useful. The ground had been swept clean by the water. Irritated at the lost opportunity, he shone his rune into the dark basin. There it was again. The eyes. Far off in the darkness, light glinted off two huge, circular eyes. The sound of stone grinding against stone he¡¯d heard during his first descent into the sewers sounded again, louder than ever. This was the same basin as last time. He¡¯d just approached it from a different direction. Vidar ran. ¡°I¡¯m never coming back down here again,¡± he panted, looking over his shoulder. Everything in his body, his chest, heart, and head told him he was being pursued, but nothing was coming. Nothing was chasing him. At least not as far as he could tell. When he thought about it, whatever was down there hadn¡¯t moved. Not this time, and not the last time he spotted them. That glint didn¡¯t necessarily have to be from a huge monster¡¯s eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips. It could be silver, or even gold and gemstones. Curiosity eclipsing fear, Vidar halted. He held his breath and waited. No. There was nothing coming for him. Still with a sense of unease and uncertainty, Vidar returned to the edge overlooking the basin. Again, he wanted to run, but he forced himself to stand fast. He¡¯d get nowhere in life if he kept fleeing from every opportunity. The kenaz rune did not reach far enough. Light bounced off two points far off in the distance, but it was impossible to make out any details. They did not move. That was a relief. Vidar drew in a breath and closed his eyes, imagining the circle of power in the rune he held. Hoping it wouldn¡¯t destroy the whole thing, he ever so carefully widened the opening at the top, where essence was flowing out at a slow and steady pace. The rune¡¯s strength more than doubled. Light cascaded throughout the basin and beyond. Vidar screamed and almost dropped the rune over the edge as he fell back, scrabbling on hands and feet to get away from the edge. He¡¯d been right from the start. It was a monster. Heart pounding in his chest and breathing out of control, Vidar stopped. He swallowed hard, waiting. No great beast flew out of the darkness to devour him. Yet, he had seen it. This time, he couldn¡¯t tell himself otherwise. An enormous head belonging to the two glimmering points. The head of a monster. Vidar stood on shaking knees and got to his feet, raising the light rune high above his head. There it was. No, not a head. A skull. His breath caught in his chest as he stared down at the thing. It was far off in the distance, on the other side of a broken-down wall. Judging by the distance between Vidar and his discovery, the thing had to be massive, and that was just the head. Everything beyond that was still claimed by the darkness. The reflection of light intrigued Vidar. Bone wouldn¡¯t do that. A gem, perhaps? They would have to be huge. One such gem would be enough to live off for the rest of his life. No more cold for him. No more embarrassment. He stared at the skull for a little while longer, then carefully leaned out over the edge. From what he could tell, there was no way of getting down there, at least not from where he was standing. The basin itself fed into the general area around the skull, but it did not look like a conscious choice from whoever built the sewer system. Not with how the hole in the far wall was shaped. It looked more like it¡¯d been pushed outward, crumbling around itself to reveal the chamber beyond. Vidar peered down. There was one sure way of getting down there. The water below was fed from several corridors, and the water frothed and churned. That drop was doable. He¡¯d done the very same one before without drowning, if barely. It could be done, but not at that very moment. To quest downward to the skull, he needed food, and he needed warmth. The sowilo rune. Without it, he¡¯d surely freeze to death before he even made it to the skull. Just remembering the cold water and being stuck down there was enough to make him shiver. He marked the map and the path he¡¯d taken to get there. This map, he would not return to Embla. Questions swirled in his head. There was more to this place than he¡¯d been told. He found it unlikely Embla knew anything more, but someone would know. Before returning here, he¡¯d teach himself how to use the warmth rune. Also, he¡¯d need to find whoever was making these maps and the markings on them. They had to know about the dead monster beneath the underground sewers. He wouldn¡¯t outright ask about the skull, of course. Doing so might invite them, whoever ¡°they¡± were, to go search for themselves. Vidar couldn¡¯t risk that. The prize down there was his and he would not share with anyone.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. The third and final blockage wasn¡¯t too far off, but it still took him a few hours to find and dispose of it. Unfortunately, this one was in one of the waste tunnels, which added to the less-than-enticing scent around him. Vidar did find a few more copper coins on what appeared to be an older merchant of some sort, judging by what he¡¯d been wearing on the day of his death, an apron and the sort of small bag one could swing over one¡¯s shoulder. The bag was empty. Having completed his mission, Vidar reemerged onto the street. His pants were mostly dry by then, but the cold still shocked him after being down in the warm tunnels for most of the day. Hurrying back to Embla¡¯s, he stopped by a locksmith¡¯s shop. It shared a wall with a blacksmith, and both men were hard at work from the sounds streaming out onto the street. He entered the locksmith¡¯s and hoisted the sewer key. ¡°Can you make a copy of this?¡± The locksmith held it up to a rune lantern in a meaty fist. After a moment of inspection, he put it back on the counter between them. ¡°What kind of key is this?¡± ¡°Can you make a copy or not?¡± Vidar asked. The locksmith scratched at his bald, shiny head. A droplet of sweat traveled down the side of his head. ¡°Suppose I can. It¡¯s a strange-lookin¡¯ one, but it¡¯s nothin¡¯ special.¡± ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Depends on what it locks, don¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Why does that make a difference?¡± Vidar asked. The heat from the blacksmith¡¯s forge next door, and the smaller forge in this shop, made the space even warmer than the sewers, and Vidar began to sweat almost immediately. ¡°I¡¯ll pay for the copy.¡± The locksmith gave Vidar a searching look. ¡°Of course you pay. Who said you wouldn¡¯t pay?¡± Vidar sighed in exasperation and pointed to a small brass water pump near the far wall. ¡°It¡¯s to the sewer and water systems. I work down there to make sure you fine citizens don¡¯t have to leave your homes to get the magnificent water you all enjoy so much.¡± ¡°Water, huh?¡± ¡°Water,¡± Vidar confirmed. ¡°You don¡¯t smell like no water.¡± ¡°And sewers,¡± Vidar added. The locksmith looked from the key to Vidar, then back again, before picking it up and putting it back up before pushing it toward Vidar. ¡°Five silver.¡± ¡°Five?¡± Vidar reeled. ¡°Five to copy a key?¡± ¡°Five silver to copy this key. The sewers belon¡¯ to the city, I¡¯m sure. That means this key is property of the Crown, if ye think about it.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡± ¡°They don¡¯t take kindly to unauthorized work.¡± Vidar frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°Only. Crown. Copy. Of. Key. Make,¡± the locksmith said, enunciating each word like he was talking down to a half-wit. ¡°If you want a copy, you pay extra, then keep your mouth shut.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have five silver. How about four silver?¡± Vidar countered. The locksmith sighed and held out his hand. ¡°Fine.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have four silver either.¡± ¡°Then you can go right ahead and piss off.¡± ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something else I can do for you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m no¡¯ lookin¡¯ for an apprentice.¡± ¡°Your runes. Keeping your fine establishment warm and properly lit must cost you, especially that forge.¡± Vidar had peeked inside and saw no coal or other fuel. There had to be a rune down there, but it was far too hot for him to get near enough to see an inscription. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say you worked shoveling shit down in the sewers? You a rune scribe now as well?¡± ¡°I am a man of many talents,¡± Vidar said, bowing with a flourish. The locksmith tossed a small iron cube to Vidar. ¡°Fix it.¡± ¡°This?¡± Vidar asked, peering down at the small, surprisingly light construct. A kenaz rune was etched into it, almost invisible if you didn¡¯t look at it from the side. Judging by the weight, it was hollow. ¡°Go on,¡± the locksmith said. Vidar focused and imagined the circle. In his mind, it was empty. He opened it and proceeded to funnel his own essence into that emptiness. Surprised at the amount required to fill even a little of the space, Vidar gritted his teeth. By the time it was full, his arm was fully numb, and he had to prop it up using his other arm. He handed it back, breathing hard, his head swimming. ¡°There.¡± The locksmith held up a hand, palm facing forward. ¡°Not yet. You have to trigger it too. Make it so only a little gets out. I want it to keep going for a good long while.¡± ¡°You can do that yourself,¡± Vidar said, unable to mask his irritation. ¡°I¡¯m no scribe, boy.¡± ¡°Neither am I,¡± Vidar muttered, too low for the other man to hear, as he triggered the rune, following the instructions to keep the opening small. Only then did the locksmith accept the cube. He mounted it into some adjustable contraption that allowed him to angle the light in any direction he wanted. ¡°Thanks, little one. That would cost me twenty pretty silver from one of them proper rune scribes, or ten from a student.¡± ¡°Twenty?¡± Vidar asked, his eyes wide. ¡°Pay me the difference, then. Give me sixteen silver.¡± The locksmith laughed and scooped the key up from the counter. ¡°Return tomorrow and I¡¯ll ¡¯ave this copied for you.¡± Vidar grumbled but didn¡¯t press his luck. At least he¡¯d get the copy without paying anything himself. Now he just needed to deal with Embla without her asking for the key back and then eat something before meeting up with Alvarn. There was a lesson to derive from this exchange as well. With those sorts of prices, rune crafting was a very real way for Vidar to make a living. ¡°Tomorrow, then,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± the locksmith agreed. He thought of asking the locksmith for a peek at the sowilo rune in his forge but thought better of it. Even if he was able to see the runic markings, remembering them well enough to transcribe later was beyond him. Vidar did remember the small markings on the wooden disc Alvarn let him hold, but the exact tilt of the lines eluded him no matter how hard he tried to remember. If the markings weren¡¯t just right, the whole thing was liable to blow up in his face, Alvarn had told him. Best be careful. What Vidar needed was a pen and something to trace a rune¡¯s markings on. The thought of sitting over an empty piece of paper made his heart quicken and his chest tightened. When he looked down at his hands as he walked back to Embla¡¯s house, they were both shaking, and not from the cold. Embla, for once, was not sitting behind her desk when Vidar finally arrived, once again thoroughly frozen. She sat on the stairs leading to the second floor, conversing with a man Vidar hadn¡¯t ever seen before. Tall with broad shoulders and a red, bulbous nose, the man wore a guardsman¡¯s uniform. This was the first time he¡¯d seen such a uniform in good condition, not dirty or tattered. Vidar swallowed hard and was about to flee when the man turned slightly to regard him, stroking his black mustache. ¡°Wait in the other room, lad. Your mistress and I will soon be through conversing.¡± His voice was cold and stern, but not necessarily unfriendly. Embla nodded her head to where they usually met in the mornings, and Vidar hurried out of sight. The guard hadn¡¯t recognized him. It wasn¡¯t Vidar he was after. After being assaulted by those cretins, Vidar couldn¡¯t help but fear that yellow shield on a white background that was their emblem. Without a door to block Vidar off from the front of the house, he was able to follow the conversation he¡¯d interrupted. ¡°You are the mistress of these wayward children, which is why I thought it best to come to you directly. Your peers have already been informed, and I hope you¡¯ll heed my warning. These indiscretions cannot be allowed to continue at this rate. Something minor every now and again is one thing, but this escalation is far beyond propriety.¡± ¡°Thank you for coming here, Captain Anderson, but I assure you, my wards are well informed of the repercussions of stepping outside the line of the law. Nevertheless, I shall imprint your words upon them.¡± ¡°You have my gratitude, mistress,¡± Anderson said. The whole house seemed to creak and shudder under his weight as he turned and left the house. From the quick look Vidar got, he was not a fat man. Just big. Perhaps bigger than Embla¡¯s henchman. Embla entered the room and sat behind her desk with a heavy thud. Her face looked pale, and she drew in a deep breath through her mouth and then breathed out through her nose while closing her eyes, as if trying to center herself. ¡°What was that about?¡± Vidar asked. She held up a finger and raised her head to the ceiling. ¡°You may come down now! Go eat your dinner and keep your noses clean. I won¡¯t protect you forever!¡± Chapter 14
A multitude of feet thundered down the old wooden stairs and the front door slammed open, letting the heat escape. Vidar shuddered as he waited for everyone to leave. Not a single one of the others as much as peeked into Embla¡¯s room. The last one out did not close the door behind them. ¡°Do you mind?¡± Embla asked, gesturing toward it. Vidar closed the door and returned. ¡°That was Guard Captain Anderson,¡± Embla began, not inviting Vidar to sit. ¡°The guardsmen keep a close eye on this operation and others like it. Poverty breeds crime, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware.¡± ¡°I am,¡± Vidar said carefully. ¡°Some petty theft is to be expected, but Anderson now reports a worrying trend with far more frequent pickpocketing and even assaults where the victim¡¯s valuables are stolen.¡± Vidar raised an eyebrow at that last bit. ¡°You don¡¯t say?¡± Embla chuckled, then let out a resigned sigh. ¡°Torbjorn will soon age out of my care and will undoubtedly join that disreputable guild. He¡¯ll be someone else¡¯s problem then. Keeping him mostly out of trouble has left my hair prematurely gray.¡± Vidar couldn¡¯t see a single gray strand in her hair, but he understood what she was saying. ¡°And the captain came over here to¡­ what? Warn you?¡± ¡°Keeping you children from illicit activities is part of why this operation exists. The stipend we receive from the Crown is one of their ways of keeping poverty-stricken children away from those sorts of activities. Anderson wanted to personally warn me that any further increase might see that stipend revoked.¡± ¡°What would that mean for everyone?¡± ¡°This little group of ours would disband, and I¡¯d probably have to work as a tavern wench or something equally appalling. You lot would be on your own, I¡¯m afraid, and the small amount of coin set aside for each child for when you age out would be confiscated by the Crown¡¯s administrators.¡± ¡°There is money set aside?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what interested you, out of everything I just said? I¡¯ll give the children a stern talking to tomorrow morning, but I would appreciate it if you reported any illegal activities you hear them talk about, if any.¡± Vidar opened his mouth, but Embla held up a hand to stop him. ¡°Besides Torbjorn.¡± ¡°Then I don¡¯t know. We don¡¯t spend much time together outside of eating and sleeping.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Embla said, holding out her hand. ¡°The key and the rune.¡± Vidar¡¯s mind raced. He¡¯d hoped she wouldn¡¯t even mention them. ¡°I don¡¯t have them.¡± She narrowed her eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t have them?¡± ¡°The third blockage was out of reach and it was getting late, so I left the hatch unlocked and the key hidden down there. The rune too. Figured you could give me yesterday¡¯s map now so I don¡¯t have to come here tomorrow. Instead, I¡¯ll finish up today¡¯s work first thing, then continue on to the new ones.¡± Embla narrowed her eyes but let her hand fall to the desk, resting it there. ¡°Fine,¡± she uttered, opening a drawer to her left to withdraw another map. She handed it to Vidar. ¡°Don¡¯t do that again. If you can¡¯t handle everything in a day, just leave it. Sometimes they clear on their own, or so I¡¯m told. If not, they¡¯ll just appear again on a future map. Understand?¡± He nodded, suppressing a sigh of relief. ¡°I understand. Who makes these maps, anyway? How are they able to pinpoint the locations of these blockages? That, I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Embla pulled a loose strand of hair behind her eyes, sighing again. She looked tired. ¡°Do I have to repeat myself?¡± ¡°No,¡± Vidar said. ¡°But I would like to know.¡± ¡°Why? You are given a task, just perform it to the best of your ability.¡± He unfurled the rolled-up map and placed it sideways on the desk between them, pointing at one of the marked locations. Him getting closer made her nose twitch, but he ignored it. ¡°See here? It¡¯s a wide area spanning multiple walkways. Finding the right place is difficult and takes a lot of time. If I knew more about the system, I¡¯d be more effective and I wouldn¡¯t have to leave without finishing the assignment. That has to be worth something to whoever is making these maps, no?¡± Embla stared at him for a long moment. ¡°You want to improve at your assigned task. The task you are not even compensated for?¡± He grinned. ¡°I¡¯m not compensated now, but once I age out of your care, perhaps there is a proper profession for me in doing this. Perhaps I might even find employment with whoever is making these maps.¡± ¡°Clever boy.¡± She scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it over. ¡°Go here and ask to see Illia. Tell her I sent you and be on your best behavior.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Vidar said, turning to leave. ¡°And Vidar?¡± He turned back. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Before you go there, roll around in the snow or something. You reek.¡±
* * * The short note was a location in the northwestern part of town. It took a short while to decipher the dancing letters of Embla¡¯s note, but he eventually managed it, just before stepping into the relative warmth of the sparse dining hall. ¡°There you are,¡± Ida said as he sat down next to her and Siv on a bench by the wall, far from the flame where most of the others huddled. ¡°How were your stinky adventures today?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Not so bad, I think,¡± Vidar answered. ¡°Did you hear Embla talk with that guard captain?¡± She nodded while peering down into her bowl of porridge. ¡°I did. We all did.¡± ¡°What are you going to do?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked, looking up at him. Her face was set in anger. He blinked, unsure what he¡¯d done to set her off like that. ¡°If you break into more houses, everyone here¡±¡ªhe looked out across the room¡ª¡°could lose what little they have.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll bring the girls with me. They can join my guild,¡± Ida said. ¡°Embla said this whole operation is to keep everyone out of crime.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t object so much when you were rummaging through that family¡¯s home.¡± Her cheeks were reddening and the volume of her voice kept increasing. Many of the others were already throwing uncomfortable glances their way. ¡°Calm yourself. I¡¯m just saying.¡± ¡°What are you saying, exactly?¡± He sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Perhaps you might want to wait a little before doing it again? If you have a way to get some materials for me, I could pay you for your trouble.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. That idea seemed to resonate with Siv, who grabbed Ida¡¯s sleeve to get her attention. She nodded in an exaggerated manner and showed her teeth in a wide grin. Ida looked at her sister and then the anger drained from her face and her shoulders sagged. ¡°What kind of materials are you looking for? And how do you have silver?¡± ¡°Found some coins on a dead man in the sewers. What I need are discs like these,¡± he said, showing the inactive kenaz rune. Or something else I can carve runes into. Once I¡¯ve sold a few, I can teach you how to make them too. We can go into business together, if you like.¡± Siv¡¯s response to that was written all over her face and posture. She was leaning in close to peer at the rune in Vidar¡¯s hand, her eyes glittering with excitement. ¡°I¡¯m going to make my own thieves¡¯ guild. I¡¯ll get you the materials, but that¡¯s it. Don¡¯t want no part of your witcherings.¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t like that. Anyone can do it, Alvarn said so. Us doing it is not strictly legal either, but it¡¯s better than robbing people¡¯s houses, I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Ida said. She stood and walked off, depositing her bowl and spoon before leaving the building. Siv, who¡¯d followed, peered back at him. No, not at him. At the rune in his hand. There wasn¡¯t much else for Vidar to do. Those two girls saved his hide, but if they would not listen to reason, he saw no way of returning the favor. With his belly somewhat full, he hurried across town to the rune scribes¡¯ guild hall, where he was supposed to meet Alvarn. The boy did not show. Vidar waited for a good long while before ascending the stone stairs to try the heavy wooden doors. They opened. The air inside was warm and light runes were expertly crafted into glinting metal plates affixed to the walls. ¡°Who are you?¡± a shrill female voice called. Vidar turned to see a tall woman in her middle years with steely gray in her otherwise dark brown hair. With a face and body full of hard angles, she appeared stern. The way her brows pulled together and her mouth formed into a tight line did nothing to make her less severe. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Alvarn,¡± Vidar said, uncomfortable in his unkempt state. Her well-cut lilac dress was sown to fit her narrow frame and looked immaculate with its swirling patterns. In contrast, he must¡¯ve looked no better than a vagabond with his rumpled coat and too-often-worn tunic and ragged trousers. Judging by the way she sniffed the air, the stink lingering about him had not passed without notice either. ¡°I do not recall the name of each of our students. You must leave this place now before I call upon the guards!¡± Her shrill voice was loud enough to hurt his ears. Vidar¡¯s face warmed, but he couldn¡¯t back down just yet. ¡°He¡¯s a little shorter than you, with a wide face and curly brown hair. Alvarn wears glasses and you could consider him¡­ fat. He¡¯s a merchant¡¯s son.¡± ¡°His reputation is not lifted from his acquaintance with you, urchin. Leave this place at once!¡± she practically shouted at him, pointing her finger at the door with such fervor the tip of her finger shook as she held it in the air. Vidar tried to summon his own anger, but it would not come. All he felt was small. Dirty. The sound of footsteps hurrying in their direction reached his ears, and he turned and opened the door, throwing it open. Before stepping back outside into the dark cold of winter, Vidar turned to address the woman. ¡°You¡¯re a real bitch, but you probably already knew that.¡± Without the proper force behind his words, he sounded sullen. Like a scolded child. Vidar closed the doors behind him before she could reply. With the plan for the rest of his day crumbling, he descended the stairs to spot a familiar figure sitting in the snow down the street. ¡°Lytir,¡± he said, coming up on his old friend, the vagrant. Lytir nodded in greeting. ¡°Little scribe. We meet again. What works have you read since last we happened upon each other?¡± Sometimes, Lytir needed reminders. ¡°We met yesterday, Lytir. Remember? Also, you know I don¡¯t like to read anymore.¡± The vagrant blinked, but the smile did not leave his face. ¡°Time is such a fleeting concept for those of us who dwell where you tread. Tell me, little scribe. Why does the fine art of reading elude your interest?¡± Vidar found no reason to lie to the harmless vagrant. ¡°The letters sway and shake when I try to read. They drift together and over each other.¡± ¡°Vexing malady!¡± Lytir shouted, getting to his feet. People walked in a wide circle around them, probably thinking Vidar was just as demented as his friend. ¡°It is what it is,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Do not despair, little scribe. I shall find a remedy for the curse bestowed upon you.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t trouble yourself,¡± Vidar said, but Lytir just shook his head. ¡°How am I meant to bring you, the paragon of humanity, in front of the chair if you are tarnished such? To stand is to be on your knees.¡± Lytir was entering into one of his mad rants again. Vidar put a hand on the vagrant¡¯s arm. ¡°Like I said, don¡¯t trouble yourself. I have found a way to survive without reaching for crumbs out of my father¡¯s hand.¡± Vidar cleared his throat, annoyed at his own words. Lytir¡¯s way of speaking always found its way to Vidar¡¯s tongue when they talked for more than a few moments. The only way to stop the shift was to choose his words carefully. ¡°I¡¯m learning the art of rune crafting,¡± Vidar said, holding up the kenaz rune. ¡°I haven¡¯t made one myself yet, but I will. As soon as I find a sowilo rune to use as reference. Some warmth will do me good in this cold.¡± Lytir stepped forward so he was standing far too close for comfort. He looked down at the rune in Vidar¡¯s hand, his face obscured by dark hair hanging from his head. ¡°A simple tool,¡± he muttered. ¡°But a powerful one in the right hands.¡± The vagrant was worse than usual today, and in a rare mood by the sound of him. Perhaps the years on the streets of Halmstadt had finally gotten to him. Vidar stepped back to create some room. ¡°You don¡¯t approve, Lytir?¡± When Vidar moved out of the way, Lytir tentatively reached for the rune before stopping himself and pulling back. He looked up, his regular smile once again plastered over his face. ¡°The crafting of runes. A trade as fine as any other, little scribe. A mere shadow of itself, but¡±¡ªhe looked up at the dark, cloud-filled sky¡ª¡°you will need all the tools at your disposal for what is to come.¡± ¡°That sounds ominous.¡± ¡°Oh, not at all, little scribe. It will be glorious. Won¡¯t be long now. Scurry beneath the earth, like a little worm, and unravel the crumbs. Just stay out of harm¡¯s way. The future holds much for us all.¡± Vidar stared at Lytir for a long moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, he just said, ¡°I will. Well, I better be going now. Stay safe, Lytir.¡± ¡°And you, little scribe.¡± Lytir sat back down, the snow crunching under his weight. How he stayed dry and unaffected by the cold, Vidar would never understand. People were looking at them even more now, so he took his leave. Alvarn forgot about their meeting or was unable to come. That meant it was time for the next item on Vidar¡¯s agenda. He needed to find a warmth rune. With the usage of such runes being widespread throughout most of Halmstadt, getting his hands on one shouldn¡¯t prove too much of a challenge. Heating one¡¯s home was high up on the list of necessary expenses for most people and establishments, with only the least fortunate using wood-burning stoves instead. Vidar¡¯s former friends, the few he actually made throughout the years, were out of the question. Turning up at one of their doors in this state, after being thrown out of his father¡¯s house, was not a humiliation he would suffer. All his father¡¯s clients would surely have heard about Vidar¡¯s unfortunate fate at this point, so he couldn¡¯t bluff his way into one of their homes either, not looking and smelling the way he did. That left establishments, the upscale sorts where warmth and light were provided by runes. After being denied entry to an inn near the rune scribes¡¯ guild, he attempted to gain entrance to a different inn with finely dressed patrons. They tossed him out into the snow. Vidar briefly considered robbing one of the students coming and going from the guild, but decided against it. Embla¡¯s words of caution were firmly imprinted in his mind and any act against the students might make its way back to Alvarn. Vidar and he weren¡¯t close by any means, only having met the once, but it was not a bridge he wanted to burn. Even going back to his stash and withdrawing the silver coins to flash in front of a bouncer¡¯s face, a thick-set woman, at the entrance to an upscale alehouse wasn¡¯t enough. She refused him entry, her whole face scrunched together, like she was talking to a drowned rat. Vidar kicked a pile of snow in frustration, then cupped his hands to blow warm air into them. The cold was getting to him. It really was. The idea of recruiting Ida to break in somewhere ran through his mind, but he suppressed it. After trying to pull her away from break-ins, he couldn¡¯t ask her to perform one with him. So, the initial thought of having plenty of opportunities ended up being dead wrong. Alvarn could probably get him one, but there was no telling when he¡¯d find him again, and Vidar couldn¡¯t stand another second of this horrific cold. He woke up cold and went to sleep cold, shivering through the night despite packing far too many bodies into that tiny shack. The only time he wasn¡¯t cold was when he was down in the sewers, the brief periods between getting soaked by the chilled water. It couldn¡¯t stand. Not anymore. Working himself up into anger at the cold forced upon him, his situation, and finally his father, Vidar made a decision. He knew where there¡¯d be sowilo runes. Several of them, in fact. Entry and access weren¡¯t problems either. All he had to do was to break into his father¡¯s house. The old, condescending bastard owed him that, and much more besides. He¡¯d never give one to him, even if Vidar asked, and he¡¯d never again ask something of his father. No, he¡¯d take instead. This night, when they all slept, he¡¯d take a small piece of what was rightfully his. To that end, he headed back to the house he grew up in. By now, it was late enough that they¡¯d all be asleep. A scribe¡¯s day starts early, with deliveries and the receiving of supplies. This means going to sleep early as well, and the few servants in his father¡¯s employ never stayed the night. When Vidar finally arrived at his old street, he saw only darkness in the windows. His father was a respected scribe, with clients lining up to take advantage of his services. This meant he could afford a house large enough to house the entire family, along with the scribe¡¯s workshop in that very same building. Being the oldest, Vidar should have inherited the whole thing one day. Now, that was ancient history. The mere idea of having been thrown out of his own home was difficult to even believe, and he would have scoffed at the idea if he hadn¡¯t lived it. Sure, Vidar hadn¡¯t been the greatest at his job, or perhaps the most pleasant to be around, but he had done his best to please his father. Mostly. Anger rose again in his chest and it helped push the sense of nostalgia and loss from his heart as Vidar made his way to the dark windows of the brick building. The street was empty except for a stray dog digging into a pile of snow a few houses down. Some other houses were dark, but light shone through most windows. People were still awake, so he¡¯d need to be careful. Chapter 15
The neighbor¡¯s house, a baker, was thankfully dark as well. They, too, were early risers. Vidar skirted the side of the wall to the small garden his mother kept behind their house. No plants survived the winter, which meant it was just a bunch of different-sized mounds of snow covering the pots and small wood-enclosed patches of dirt. Vidar brushed the snow off a pot on the far left corner, still keeping his eyes on the windows. Moving the pot took some doing with the bottom being frozen to the ground, and he finally had to give it a kick to get at what was underneath. The key. His father didn¡¯t know about this one. It was his mother¡¯s doing, giving the children a way to sneak in the back when coming home after dark. The lock wasn¡¯t frozen over, thankfully, but the click of the key was loud enough he thought it might wake up the entire neighborhood. He hid the key and replaced the pot, kicking snow around a little to hide his tracks. When the missing rune was discovered, he didn¡¯t want them to know it was him. Vidar slid the door open on well-oiled hinges and slipped inside. The back room was dark, empty, and with a lingering chill that was still far more comfortable than the biting cold outside. He stood there in complete silence for a long while, imagining his siblings and parents in their beds, sleeping peacefully. They would rise before dawn and eat a small meal together before preparing for the day¡¯s work. Wiping away some dust irritating his eyes, Vidar walked through the room on light feet, setting course for the closest sowilo rune. Four of them were interspersed throughout the house, with one in the kitchen, one in the master bedroom, one in the sitting room, and one in the annex, from where their father ran his scribe¡¯s business. He¡¯d briefly considered going into the kitchen to grab as much food as he could carry, but he didn¡¯t dare risk it. The pots and pans, utensils, and general disarray made for a very high risk of alarming the sleeping family. Sweat trickled down his lower back as he made his way to the sitting room. The kenaz runes in the room were covered with thin cloth bags that allowed some muted light to pass through. It was enough to see by. Barely. The sitting room was near the front of the house and was used to entertain current customers or people his father hoped to turn into customers. Vidar had never been allowed to sit by the table. Just looking at the glinting, polished surface and the plush chairs spaced evenly around it made him clench his fist. No. This was not the time for indulging his anger. There was a reason he was here. That reason sat mounted on the exterior wall. With stone all that separated those inside from the elements outside, a sowilo rune in the middle of it made sense, to mitigate some of that cold in the winters. Vidar rounded the table and came to stand right in front of it. There it was, the jagged-edged symbol inscribed on a thin metal plate. Simple, really. Copying those would make him rich in no time. When it didn¡¯t budge, he frowned. The thing was stuck to the wall, no matter how much strength he put behind the pull. Sliding it in different directions didn¡¯t work either, nor did trying to spin the plate. No matter how much Vidar struggled, he couldn¡¯t get the thing off. With his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might pop out, he stepped back and regarded the plate. Someone coughed. Vidar froze. It¡¯d been far away and up the stairs, but it sounded like his father. He stood there listening in the dark while holding his breath for a good, long time. No more sounds cut the silence. He sighed in relief but was still on edge. The cough was a reminder he wasn¡¯t alone in that house, no matter how silent it was. This was not his home anymore, making him an intruder. Vidar couldn¡¯t linger. He couldn¡¯t stay, but he refused to return into the cold empty-handed. If he couldn¡¯t bring a rune back with him, then he¡¯d do the next best thing. He¡¯d copy it. Cursing his lack of forethought about not bringing anything to write on or with, Vidar made his way to the workshop. Vidar¡¯s heart beat faster and his chest felt tight as he approached his target, a small chamber. A reading chair was the only thing standing on the faded gray rug with frayed edges. No, that wasn¡¯t right. Vidar hunched down and put a hand to the ground, touching the lush threads. Red threads. His mother replaced the carpet. That, above everything else, made him truly feel left behind. He stood and scuffed his shoes on the surface, making sure to get as much of the grime as possible to stick. The door to the workshop was the same as always. Vidar clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to relax his forearms and get the wooden feeling out of them, a ritual he¡¯d performed many a time in this very spot. Like always, it was useless. He breathed in deeply and held the breath to expand his lungs, trying to push away the constricting feeling in his chest. Wiping at his eyes again and ignoring the quickening of his heart, Vidar stepped into the space he¡¯d come to both fear and loathe over the years. The smell was like a blow to his gut. With the lingering mustiness of ledgers permeating the air, and the ever-present faint aroma wafting from the many jars of wax, Vidar¡¯s head swam. The sharp smell of ink made his nose twitch, and he did his best to ignore the drying sheets as he stepped around the tables used for scribe¡¯s work to reach the rune. Controlling the temperature in the workshop was important, and Vidar had hoped he could remove this rune, but it was just as stuck as the one in the sitting room.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Frustrated, he grabbed a sheet of paper and a charcoal pencil. He put the paper over the rune and tilted the pencil to create a rubbing. Copying it in ink was his first thought, but if he made a mistake, there¡¯d be no way of knowing what the correct form was. Satisfied at the result, he did another one just in case. Anger was replacing anxiousness now that his body had realized he wasn¡¯t going to sit down at one of the tables to chase letters around all day again. Vidar looked at the rune, seeing his father¡¯s hand in its placement and application. In his mind¡¯s eye, he saw himself stabbing at the rune with the letter opener he¡¯d stolen in that break-in. It would be immensely satisfying knowing the entire stock in the workshop was being ruined, but he knew it would only last long enough for the servants to return with a replacement. His hands shook as he turned around and regarded the back of the workshop with the many works in progress organized on shelves. He was breathing hard now. Excited. Perhaps he could put the whole place to flame. He didn¡¯t have anything with him, but there had to be something in the house he could use. The idea sounded better and better to his ears. ¡°Vidar?¡± The soft voice startled him, and he spun to face the door. ¡°Tilda?¡± His youngest sister hugged the side of the door, her eyes wide with what could be either fright or excitement. ¡°Where did you go, Vidar? I missed you.¡± All thoughts of destruction fled his mind and Vidar made his way over to her, wrapping his arms around her thin frame. At nine years old, she was still very much a child. So small, so frail. ¡°I had to go for a little while and I have to go again. Is anyone else awake?¡± She shook her head with her face still buried in his coat. ¡°I heard something and was afraid, but I didn¡¯t want to wake Mother. She looks tired all the time now and her eyes are red a lot.¡± Vidar¡¯s throat felt thick. ¡°You did good, little Tilda. No need to wake them.¡± ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not so little anymore!¡± she said, speaking loud enough for Vidar to wince as she pulled away from the hug to point a finger in his face. He held up his hands in appeasement. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, oh great big Tilda.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not fat either.¡± Vidar smiled and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve again, tousling her long, straight hair. ¡°Go back to bed, Tilda.¡± ¡°Are you staying?¡± she asked, looking up at him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t.¡± She frowned and crossed her arms. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a long story. I¡¯ll tell you when you¡¯re older.¡± Since his parents hadn¡¯t shared the circumstances with his little sister, Vidar would not either. They were right in not doing so, he thought. Best let her stay a child for as long as possible. He thought of the children working for Embla. Many of them were younger than Tilda, but the tired eyes in their faces made them look far more advanced in age. Best to protect his sister¡¯s eyes for as long as possible. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to go now,¡± Vidar said, gently moving her out of the way. She hugged him from behind. ¡°Come visit again soon! Just wake me up next time?¡± ¡°I promise,¡± Vidar said, gently untangling her arms. ¡°Don¡¯t tell the others I was here.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Just promise me?¡± he asked, turning to give her an earnest look. She rolled her eyes. ¡°I promise.¡± With their goodbyes said, Tilda hurried back through the house ahead of Vidar and then up the stairs to the bedrooms without looking back. As he passed the bottom of the stairs, he heard someone speak up above. It was the voice of his mother. ¡°What are you doing up, Tilda?¡± ¡°I thought I heard someone downstairs, but it¡¯s empty.¡± Their mother murmured, ¡°Such a brave girl. Brave and stupid.¡± Vidar couldn¡¯t stand being in that house a moment longer and exited the way he¡¯d come in. After replacing the key without bothering to lock the door for fear of his mother hearing, he skulked back to the street and disappeared toward Andersburg. He breathed a little easier once he set foot in Rat Town again. Only then did he allow himself a sense of victory. He¡¯d done it. The sowilo rune was his. With it, anything was within reach. The hour was late at this point, very late, but he wanted to put his new treasure to use right away. To do so, he forced his cold and tired legs to walk him to the old shipping crate where he¡¯d squirreled away his meager possessions. If Ida and Siv managed to get the pieces of wood he was looking for, he¡¯d need the paintbrushes and paint set to make something he could sell. Before leaving the workshop, he¡¯d pocketed a bottled of ink and some pens. They would do for practice but not much more, and he desperately needed silver. To his delight, the twin sisters did acquire the necessary materials for him to craft runes. They waited outside the shacks when he returned, bouncing with excitement. Ida showed a cloth bag into his face as soon as he approached. ¡°That¡¯ll be two silver coins!¡± ¡°Two? Didn¡¯t we say one?¡± he asked, opening the bag to peer inside. Counting the discs in the dark wasn¡¯t an easy task, but he thought they numbered over twenty. A good start. Ida¡¯s face darkened, and he chuckled as he handed over the coins. ¡°See?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s better than burglary, is it not?¡± She placed the silver between her teeth and bit down, wincing. ¡°A break-in could have given us a lot of riches, plenty more than two coins.¡± ¡°Two silver coins is nothing to scoff at,¡± he countered. ¡°And why did you bite down on them?¡± ¡°It¡¯s what you¡¯re supposed to do, to make sure they¡¯re not fake.¡± ¡°How do you tell the difference?¡± She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Vidar pointed to the boys¡¯ shack. ¡°Is everyone in there already?¡± ¡°Not yet. Should be empty.¡± ¡°Do you have the key?¡± That made her snicker. ¡°It doesn¡¯t lock from the outside. There is nothing in there to steal.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true enough,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Well, I¡¯m going in to experiment a little. Do you want to join?¡± Siv stepped toward the shack, but Ida caught her. ¡°We¡¯re not going into the boys¡¯ place, Siv.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Vidar asked. She gave him a look. ¡°Oh. Right. Well, good night, then.¡± ¡°Sleep tight,¡± Ida said, heading for the girls¡¯ shack. Siv trailed behind Ida, then made some gesture to Vidar where she tilted her face and rested her chin in her palm, mimicking someone sleeping. ¡°Good night,¡± he said. Chapter 16
The small space was dark and, as it turned out, not empty. Two boys pressed themselves against the narrow corners, almost completely covered by blankets. Vidar peered inside but decided not to enter. If he made some mistake, he didn¡¯t want anyone else suffering the consequences, and the one room inside wasn¡¯t big enough to ensure anyone¡¯s safety. At that point, it wasn¡¯t snowing anymore, and the cold might perhaps motivate him to get the sowilo rune working without delay. To that end, he moved to a nearby alley with no people around. A dog barked somewhere in the distance and someone shouted a few streets over. By now, he was used to the sounds and knew he could work with little risk of interruption. The kenaz rune could stand on its side on a protruding bit of rock in the wall, and he triggered it to give himself light to work by. Most of the stones in the wall were not flat. Bulbous shapes were a terrible place to draw a rune, but after some searching, he found one part of the left wall that was decently level, at about hip height from the ground. ¡°Let¡¯s see here,¡± he mumbled to himself, withdrawing one of the rubbings and squatting down. Vidar wondered, and not for the first time, at the reason for the runic symbol¡¯s shape. His best guess was that it was some ancient, now dead language. The two jagged lines might¡¯ve spelled sowilo, which in turn translated to warmth, fire, or the like. How that allowed the rune to trigger and work was beyond him, though. And if it was a written language, why didn¡¯t the symbols twist, turn, and dance when he looked at them? Questions without answers. Perhaps Alvarn knew. He¡¯d have to ask the scribe student when he found him. Focusing on the task at hand, Vidar withdrew the paint. He¡¯d selected a small bottle of bright red, figuring it was closest to the etching on the wooden discs on which the kenaz runes were embedded. Usually, you would dilute the color with water to make the solution a little thinner and easier to use, but with his canvas being stone rather than paper or even wood, he didn¡¯t dare lessen the paint¡¯s thickness. With paint prepared on the thin brush, Vidar held it near the stone. His hand shook. It always shook when he allowed his thoughts to run wild with worry as he lettered in his previous life as a scribe¡¯s apprentice. The only time he managed some semblance of steadiness was when he let his mind relax and his vision blur so he could zone out and eliminate every distraction. His father would not come check his work over his shoulder today. The only one relying on the result was himself. Vidar could do this. It wasn¡¯t even letters, just runic characters. They would stay still for him. Breathing out, he gently touched the tip of the brush against the coarse rock, moving it left and down to make the first stroke. Not wanting to give himself time to worry and overthink things, he made the next, then the next, and soon the symbol sat complete before him. After a brief pause, he gently rubbed snow on the brush to remove any lingering paint. Vidar hunched down and put his face right next to his completed work. It looked right. Perhaps a little crooked. ¡°Close enough?¡± he asked the empty alley. He closed his eyes and imagined the circle around the rune, but none would show before his inner eye. Feeling stupid, he reached out to physically touch the rune, like he¡¯d done every other time. It put him off balance and Vidar tilted to the side and landed in the snow. His hand brushed against the wall as he fell and the circle appeared, then disappeared again when he let go of the wall. Frowning, he touched the wall again without getting up. His fingers were far from the actual runic symbol, but the circle appeared in his mind nonetheless. Puzzled, he reached for the other wall, where the kenaz rune rested above him. No circle appeared. ¡°Strange,¡± Vidar said, getting up to his feet. Perhaps the circle on the light rune walled it off. The sowilo rune had no such barrier. This was interesting, he thought, and it needed further testing, but not today. Today, he wanted warmth. To that end, he reached out to his newly painted sowilo rune and pried the barrier open so he could fill it with his own essence.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Strength zapped away from his arm in an instant and it went from tingling to numb straight away. The sensation continued to his shoulder and then began reaching into his chest. Vidar grunted but didn¡¯t want to stop, not just yet. Before his arm fell to his side, he switched hands, putting his left on the wall instead. The tingling sensation seized the left hand and arm instead, while his right recovered a little. The drain moved far faster than he could manage at that point, and in a last-ditch effort, he kicked a shoe off to replace his left hand with his left foot. He laughed maniacally as essence drained from the leg instead. Vidar could decide from where to take the essence. A revelation, to be sure. Before allowing the rune to take so much that he wouldn¡¯t be able to stay standing, Vidar closed the opening he¡¯d created in the circle. Panting, he examined it. To his surprise, the circle in his mind contained almost no essence. What little he could detect had a shimmer to it, almost appearing hazy. Vidar couldn¡¯t be sure, but it looked almost like it drifted past the border of the circle. This did not feel right. Still, he¡¯d spent far too much time to turn back now. Vidar wasn¡¯t a coward. Still, his hand trembled a little when he reached out to trigger the rune. The next thing he knew was the back of his head and the rest of him hitting the other wall in a flash of blinding pain. He fell face-first into the snow and groaned, grabbing the back of his head. His fingers came away bloodied. A gentle warmth bathed his back for a brief moment before dissipating. Without getting up from his stomach, Vidar reached out and touched the wall. It was still warm, if barely. That¡¯s why the essence looked so strange to his inner eye. It didn¡¯t stay near the wall. Vidar chuckled, then let out a grunt of pain. From the look of things, he¡¯d just attempted to fill the entire building with his essence. No wonder it hadn¡¯t looked like much. He stayed like that for a good long while before attempting to get up. With both arms out of commission and his foot tingling like it¡¯d been sleeping, there wasn¡¯t much he could do until he recovered. That dog barked again. Closer this time. Vidar found himself drifting, like he was close to falling asleep. That probably wasn¡¯t a great idea, but his thoughts moved slowly and his vision swam. Something smelled terrible, and he rolled over, only to realize he¡¯d vomited all over the ground and himself. He couldn¡¯t recollect when that¡¯d happened. His arms and leg were better all of a sudden. Perhaps he¡¯d fallen asleep without noticing. A dark shape moved from around a corner across the street. Vidar struggled to a sitting position and peered into the night. There it was again. A human shape. Moving darkness. He blinked, and it was gone. Strange. Had he imagined it in his dazed state? Vidar turned his attention back to the other wall. The runic symbol was unaffected by the sudden burst of essence, as far as he could tell. The circle was necessary, he decided. Those wooden discs Alvarn used, and he himself was hoping to use, didn¡¯t have a painted circle, but the physical form must work in the same manner. The plates affixed to the walls in his family home did have circles surrounding the runic symbols. Without giving it any more thought, Vidar brought out the paintbrush again and used that same red color to paint a circle around the symbols. He used his shoulder to create a long but steady stroke with the brush, like his father thought him way back when he was starting out. Even with the technique, it looked more like an oval. It would have to do. At least it enclosed the symbols into a smaller area. Vidar¡¯s theory proved correct. The circle in his mind showed up far more pronounced this time. Filling it allowed him to see the essence inside, and it didn¡¯t drain him nearly as fast as his previous attempt. Praying to all the fallen angels whose names he barely remembered from childhood stories, Vidar triggered the sowilo rune. It didn¡¯t explode this time, which was a marked improvement over his first attempt, but he barely felt a difference in temperature when hovering his hand above the painted symbols. ¡°Dammit,¡± he muttered. The angles were all slightly off, he realized once he¡¯d taken out the rubbing to compare his work. Trying to correct the already painted symbols was futile, so he made another attempt next to them. This one was a little better, but he couldn¡¯t fill it much due to his exhaustion. Panting, he did a third before running out of rocks flat enough to paint on. This one actually gave off noticeable warmth even when standing by the opposite wall. The snow at his feet slowly began to melt as he leaned back to stand as close to the rune as he dared, basking in the heat. Vidar shambled back to the shack after retrieving the kenaz rune and collapsed into a heap right in the middle of the floor. Soon, he promised himself. Soon he would sleep in a proper bed surrounded by heat runes to keep him warm. His belly would be full and his limbs rested. It was within reach now, and he would seize the opportunity with all his might. He¡¯d show them what he was really made out of. They¡¯d see. They¡¯d all see. Chapter 17
Vidar woke groggily when someone shook his shoulders. ¡°Get up, shit goblin! You¡¯re on my foot!¡± His eyes were glued shut with gunk and he had to wipe at them and then physically pull his lids open. Even in the darkness of morning, his eyes stung from the light of the moon far above them. Freezing cold billowed into the shack from the open door and a crowd gathered outside, waiting. ¡°Morning already?¡± Vidar croaked. Ida leaned into the room and sniffed. ¡°This place is terrible. You boys sure are smelly.¡± He got to his feet and swayed, necessitating a hand on the wall to keep himself from toppling over. His limbs were heavy and the ravenous hunger in his belly told him he¡¯d used far too much essence the night before. Vidar staggered out into the cold, shivering. Siv stood next to her sister, her eyes full of intense energy. He envied those eyes. ¡°I did it,¡± he said, lowering his voice so none of the others overheard. ¡°You did what?¡± Ida asked, her voice far too loud. ¡°The warmth rune. Sowilo. I did it.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re some sort of wizard now, huh?¡± ¡°What?¡± he asked, shaking his head. ¡°Magic isn¡¯t real. This is something anyone can do, as long as you don¡¯t fear the guild. Like I said, I could teach you two.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you know what they do to witches?¡± she asked, teasing as they set off to get some meager rations into their bellies. Many children¡¯s stories told of witches and wizards. Witches were almost always evil and ended up slain by the hero of the tale while wizards would be wise old men giving advice to kings and queens. Usually, the stories taught children to listen to their parents and not wander off in the woods, or other lessons of that nature. ¡°You¡¯d rather become the queen of thieves?¡± Vidar asked, his voice unable to hide what he thought about that choice. ¡°Queen of thieves?¡± she asked, pursing her lips. ¡°I kind of like that name.¡± By the time they made it to their meal, Vidar was thoroughly cold and miserable. He finished his small helping with speed and then headed out. There was much to be done today. First, he retrieved the padlock from its hiding place. With that in hand, he headed to the locksmith. Unfortunately, the bastard hadn¡¯t opened his workshop yet, but the blacksmith next door was already hard at work lighting his furnace. Rather than using a sowilo rune, the man prepared a regular forge. ¡°Apologies, but do you know when your friend next door usually opens?¡± Vidar asked. The wide back of the man hunched down over a bunch of tools. He straightened with a groan and turned, scratching at his bushy red beard. ¡°It¡¯s early yet, boy. What¡¯d¡¯ye need ¡¯im for?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a customer,¡± Vidar said, pulling out the padlock. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re better suited to help me with this. I¡¯ve been to other blacksmiths, but they wouldn¡¯t even take a look. Do you know a way to remove all this rust?¡± The blacksmith took the hunk of metal and turned it in his hand before giving it back. ¡°Best get a new one, aye? That¡¯n willn¡¯t lock again no matter what ye¡¯do. Not when the rust gets all up inside.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m after. There is an inscription on it. At least, I think there is. All I want is to read it.¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯s something different, then. Soak the blasted thing in vinegar.¡± ¡°Vinegar? That¡¯s it? Then what?¡± ¡°Rub it.¡± ¡°Rub it?¡± ¡°Grab ye a rag and rub it fast n¡¯ hard. Ye lad knows how to rub it, aye?¡± He made an obscene gesture with one hand and then let out a booming laugh, like he¡¯d just reached the pinnacle of comedy. Heat blossomed in Vidar¡¯s face, but he didn¡¯t dignify that with an answer. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°The locksmith. When does he open?¡± The blacksmith still grinned hugely when he answered, ¡°Not before sunup, at least.¡± Vidar sighed, then looked around the blacksmith¡¯s workshop. ¡°You don¡¯t need any runes rejuvenated, do you? I could help out. For a price.¡± ¡°No, don¡¯t trust ¡¯em.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t trust runes?¡± ¡°Devout, I am. Did the angels use runes, you reckon?¡± Vidar cleared his throat, thinking of what he¡¯d seen in the tunnels under the church. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°No runes fer me. No, boy. Don¡¯t trust ¡¯em.¡± Vidar backed away and thanked the blacksmith for his help and the information. With no way down into the sewers without the key, there really wasn¡¯t much for him to do but wait. After standing around in the cold for a few moments, Vidar decided that just waiting wouldn¡¯t cut it after all. He looked around for a good, empty spot. Very few people were up and about at that early hour, but he didn¡¯t want anyone seeing him working on the wooden discs. He found an empty street with few windows overlooking it and withdrew the kenaz rune. The wood wasn¡¯t just painted red. A groove ran along the lines. Or rather, the lines of color ran in the grooves. It was a good way of protecting the runic symbols from being scratched or worn away. Vidar made a mental note of yet another thing to ask Alvarn. There had to be some sort of special tool to make them. On that dark, early morning, Vidar didn¡¯t have such luxuries at his disposal. Paint and wood, he did have. He didn¡¯t lug around the whole bag of wooden discs, of course, but kept a few in a pocket after hiding the rest when he¡¯d retrieved the padlock. A group of men in workers¡¯ clothes walked past the opening to Vidar¡¯s street. One of them peered at him, but none stopped. ¡°I really need to find somewhere inside to work on this,¡± he muttered, uncorking the paint. To make his discovery less likely, he dimmed the light rune and placed it behind a crate, where he hunched down with a wooden disc in one hand, paintbrush in the other. After consulting the rubbing again, Vidar painted the symbols. Each line was its own stroke, precise and with just the right amount of tilt. After cleaning the brush with snow and putting it back in its little box, he held the sowilo rune up to the light, admiring it. The symbol was almost perfect. His hands hadn¡¯t trembled at all, he realized. He hadn¡¯t even thought about it. This disc would work, he was sure of it. Something moved in his peripheral vision and he looked up to see two men coming down his street. Startled, he looked the other way. One man approached from that way. A big, wide bastard.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Their intent was written all over their faces and the way they cautiously moved forward. Vidar shoved the new sowilo rune into his coat pocket, along with everything else. His mind raced as his head whipped back and forth, trying to look in both directions at once. Vidar¡¯s luck had well and truly run out. He saw no weapons in their hands. ¡°I have a knife!¡± he shouted, pulling it out. Even at a distance, he heard them chuckling. A menacing sound and decidedly not a good sign. All windows within reach were shut tight. There was no way out. He couldn¡¯t think. Didn¡¯t know what to do. They were getting close now. A single thought ran through his mind. He couldn¡¯t let all three of them get him. To that end, he charged down the street, toward the single man. Yes, he was bigger and filled most of the narrow street, but he was just one man. Surely it would be easier to get past him than the two men. Four hands versus two. It was simple math. That was what he told himself as he approached, holding the knife out in front of him and screaming like a madman, trying to scare his attacker. The man¡¯s features showed clearly through the gloom once Vidar got close enough. A bald head and a blond mustache, with a face covered in thin scars. His nose had been broken sometime in the past and healed all crooked. All these things Vidar saw in a split second as he feinted left, then spun and threw himself right, bouncing on the wall to get past. For one short second, he was free, with the open street right ahead of him. Vidar even had the time for a small smile before something tugged on him, pulling him by the back of his coat. Vidar fell with a grunt, hitting the ground with a thud that left him gasping for air as he scrabbled forward and away. The big lout who¡¯d caught him slid on the ice, but reached out and grabbed Vidar¡¯s foot. Vidar shouted and kicked with his free foot, striking the bald man right on his stupid mustache. The nose crunched, but the bastard still did not let go. Vidar looked back and saw blood gushing down his captor¡¯s face and mouth. The two others were running now. He didn¡¯t have much time. Vidar kicked again, but his foot was caught, leaving him with few options. The knife was miraculously still in his hand, and he sat up with a cry and drove the blade into the left arm of the one holding him. It slid through skin, flesh, and muscle far easier than Vidar anticipated and the slight ripping sound made him sick. Without thinking, he let the knife slip out of his grasp as the bastard cried out in pain and pulled his arm back. Just like that, Vidar found himself disarmed. They would not let him go after this if they¡¯d ever intended to just rob him. He needed to get away, and he needed to do it now. Vidar kicked desperately with his now free leg, trying to free himself from his attacker¡¯s other arm, while searching his pocket for something that¡¯d help. Anything. His fingers felt the grove of the kenaz rune and he pulled it out. He held it in both hands just as the two other men caught up. The circle in Vidar¡¯s mind came to him easily, and he closed his eyes and pushed every bit of essence he could muster into it while at the same time triggering the rune by tearing the circle open and letting everything spill out in one powerful burst. Even with his eyes closed and the rune pointing away from him, Vidas was momentarily blinded. Several voices cried out in pain, and when Vidar opened his eyes, he saw all three men on the ground with their hands covering their eyes. It¡¯d worked. The plan could not even have been called such, because it was more of a last-ditch idea in a moment of desperation, but this was the outcome he¡¯d hoped for. The blade had fallen from the bald man¡¯s arm and the wound now bled profusely. Vidar snatched it up with fumbling fingers, numb from yet again having spent too much of himself in powering the blast of light from the kenaz rune. Even with the rush of panic surging through his body, he found it difficult to breathe with the tingling numbness in his chest. Too close. Again, too close. Vidar turned away from the three men and ran clumsily with his arms flailing wildly, out of his control. If anyone saw him, they must¡¯ve thought him mad fleeing with that insane gait, hunched over and wheezing for breath while his arms flopped around. Fear pushed him forward. How long those three would be out of commission was anyone¡¯s guess, but Vidar was sure they¡¯d chase after him once they were on their feet again. There was no time to lose in putting as many twists and turns between him and them as humanly possible. By the time he felt somewhat safe again, the use of his arms had returned and he could breathe properly again. The sun peeked over the rooftops and people milled about. As he sat down on a wooden bench in a small park, having utterly lost his way as he ran, Vidar realized he hadn¡¯t seen the sun in some time. The sewers had eaten the few hours of daylight his country of Sveland received at this time of year. The sun did little to chase away the cold, however, so he withdrew his newly crafted rune, finally able to give himself a bit of warmth. ¡°Dammit,¡± he croaked, peering at the wooden surface. ¡°By the rotten wings of the fallen angels, dammit!¡± He threw the rune into a grove of short trees and bushes, cursing under his breath as he put his face into his hands. The paint on the rune was smudged beyond recognition, not having had the time to dry. Those bastards who¡¯d tried to rob him were responsible for this. Responsible for ruining his first ever sowilo rune. Vidar raised his face to the sky and shouted at the top of his lungs, ¡°Dammit all to hell and back!¡± A few pigeons took to the air, startled by his outburst. After taking a few deep breaths to overcome his impotent anger, Vidar grabbed a handful of snow and used it to clean the blood out of his hair. The wound on the back of his head was minor and no longer produced much new blood. His head still didn¡¯t feel all there, and his thoughts were sluggish. It could just be that he used far too much essence to beat back his attackers. He hoped that was the case and that he¡¯d recover soon. As he was now, there was no way he¡¯d attempt to create another rune. Vidar needed rest and food. Unfortunately, neither was readily available to him. Too much to do, too many people to see. And without coin, there was little food to be had. First things first, the locksmith. It didn¡¯t take too long to find one of the wide main streets cutting through this part of the city, Wrangel Street. Following that, Vidar eventually made his way back. The locksmith was hard at work at this point. ¡°Why does your brother speak so differently from you?¡± he asked the man after exchanging greetings. He¡¯d decided they were brothers after all, having talked to the blacksmith up close. ¡°Bastard spent some of his youth with the Dennerish. Makes him speak all funny,¡± the locksmith grunted. ¡°Also gave him religion. Can¡¯t even share an ale with him, even if I wanted to.¡± ¡°They don¡¯t drink?¡± The locksmith shook his head and rummaged through items on his table, coming up with a set of keys. Vidar accepted them and examined both. The sheen of the metal and its sturdy construction made it obvious which was the copy and which was the original. ¡°You sure this is going to work?¡± Vidar asked, holding up the copy. ¡°That question is an insult to any locksmith, lad.¡± ¡°Apologies,¡± Vidar said, shoving both keys into his pocket. He looked around and spotted at least two inactive kenaz runes. ¡°I take it the rune scribe students don¡¯t make it this far from the guild? Throw me some coins and I¡¯ll rejuvenate those for you.¡± The rough-cut wooden chair behind the table groaned as the locksmith relaxed his considerable bulk into it with a contented sigh. ¡°They serve all of Halmstadt, but the rate goes up with every block and street. With us here south of the river, the price is steep indeed. Keeping my forge going¡±¡ªhe gestured to the small forge¡ª¡°eats most of my profits.¡± Just like that, Vidar had found his market. ¡°Then pay me to do it.¡± The locksmith pursed his lips and stretched out his legs as far as they would go among his cluttered shop. ¡°You do know it is considered a crime? I don¡¯t know much, but I do know you¡¯re no rune scribe, lad.¡± Vidar gestured to the contraption with the cube hovering on a metal arm over his desk. ¡°You let me rejuvenate that one.¡± ¡°And my brother spent the better part of an hour moanin¡¯ to me ¡¯bout it. We¡¯ve been gettin¡¯ closer since business dropped off and I had to stop payin¡¯ the scribes for my runes. He thought it was a choice on my part, stupid bastard.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡± The locksmith pointed to the narrow door leading into the blacksmith¡¯s part of the workshop. ¡°The dimwit does no¡¯ like runes. The priests don¡¯t take kindly to the use. Have you heard of such a thin¡¯? Backwards, pale bastards.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t want me to rejuvenate some?¡± ¡°Lad, if you wanna tussle with the guild, that¡¯s your slit throat. What¡¯s the charge?¡± Vidar¡¯s mind was still a little foggy, but he clearly remembered how much the metal-cube kenaz rune should¡¯ve fetched him. ¡°Fifteen silver per light rune.¡± The locksmith burst out laughing. When he settled down and wiped a tear from his eye, he made his counter. ¡°Tha¡¯s more than the guild charges for a simple light rune, boy. I¡¯ll give you fifteen copper per rune.¡± ¡°For that much, I¡¯ll just let you sit in the dark,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Ten silver and I might even consider rejuvenating that cube of yours when it runs out.¡± The locksmith glanced at his workbench. That light was important to him, Vidar knew. Working by the light produced by a regular flame must be difficult for someone in a profession handling small parts and intricate details. ¡°One silver.¡± Frustration got to Vidar despite his best efforts to keep his calm, and he pointed at the cube, half yelling. ¡°That stupid thing would¡¯ve cost you more than ten times that!¡± ¡°But you¡¯re no¡¯ a rune scribe, lad. Not sanctioned, no writ allowin¡¯ you to even touch a rune. If you¡¯re caught, and ye will get caught, they¡¯ll get the names of your customers from you. It¡¯s a risk on my part, you see?¡± Vidar bit his lip and once again glanced at the metal cube that¡¯d taken so much essence to fill. ¡°Is it illegal for you to have runes created by me?¡± They wouldn¡¯t catch him. He wouldn¡¯t allow it, but he could see the locksmith¡¯s point. ¡°Nah,¡± the big man said, shaking his head. ¡°But they¡¯ll grab them right out of my hands.¡± The locksmith would lose the cube. The rules of those above him in station once again showed how they were designed to push him back down into the shit. Anger simmered in his chest at the thought of faceless men deciding over his life by instituting laws and rules. Vidar would not allow himself to be snared by those fools. ¡°Three silver, and that¡¯s per rune,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Final offer.¡± Chapter 18
With enough silver to buy himself proper meals for more than a week, and perhaps even a small room, the cold did not have quite the same effect as the days prior. Both keys were tucked away, safe in his coat pocket. Even the throbbing in Vidar¡¯s head from the confrontation in the alley had lessened to a dull ache. The sewers were not an inviting prospect, and he decided to forego his daily task in favor of visiting the one responsible for the maps provided by Embla. When he quit, dropping her name to that contact might no longer be viable. Best make use of it while he still could. Also, arming himself with knowledge now might allow him to reach the treasures hidden below a lot quicker. Those huge gems down there beckoned him, the light glinting off the smooth surfaces a promise of great riches to come. Vidar smiled to himself as he walked through the snow, ignoring the cold wetness seeping into his boots. A few streets later, he crossed the river over to the more prosperous part of Halmstadt, and by the time he was nearing the location on Embla¡¯s hastily scribbled note, the smile had slipped from his face. The damn cold. No good mood could stand up to it for long. Rejuvenating the locksmith¡¯s light runes drained a lot of essence from him, but he should still have taken the time to create a sowilo rune. Being able to draw full breaths for a few minutes would¡¯ve been worth it. By the time he made it to his destination, Vidar wore a look of grim determination. The fine streets all the way up here in Nordstan were regularly swept of snow, but that did little to ease the chill from his already soaked shoes and trousers. The feeling in his arms was fully back from his work with the runes earlier, but they never regained any warmth at all, and he barely felt a thing when he banged on the door of the squat stone building only a stone¡¯s throw away from Halmstadt Keep. The thick wood meant his banging barely produced a whisper of a sound, so he kicked the door after a while when no one answered. Pain radiated from the big toe of his left foot all the way up to his knee, and he hopped around on his right, letting out a steady stream of cold-related curses until the door finally swung open just enough for a woman perhaps ten years Vidar¡¯s senior, with dark brown hair in tousled curls, to peek out. A heavy-looking chain on the inside of the door showed in the gap. It grew taut, not allowing the door to fully open. ¡°Yes?¡± the woman asked, squinting through thick glasses. Vidar walked up close and felt the warmth from the inside billowing out. ¡°I have questions about the sewer systems.¡± The woman blinked, then cleared her throat. ¡°That is unusual.¡± ¡°I work down there on Embla¡¯s behalf. She sent me.¡± She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. ¡°I should have known. Hold on.¡± The door closed and Vidar heard a muted rattling on the other side. When she reopened the door, the chain was gone. ¡°Hurry up inside. You¡¯re letting the heat out,¡± the woman said, closing the door behind him. She strained to lift the thick, linked chain and reset it to the locked position. ¡°Safety concerns?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°I¡¯m Vidar.¡± ¡°This is an official building belonging to the Crown, but we are not important enough to warrant guards. Hence, the chain. My name is Illia,¡± she said, looking him up and down. ¡°I usually only deal with Embla or the small boy she sends to fetch the map.¡± Illia spoke in a strange, almost archaic manner, like she¡¯d been transported to the present day from some far-flung past. Vidar didn¡¯t have trouble parsing her meaning since the words were the same, but it was almost as if she was trying, and utterly failing, to speak with a noblewoman¡¯s air of nasal superiority. ¡°I¡¯ve met with some¡­ issues down there and was hoping you could illuminate me with the answers to a few questions.¡± Dammit, now he was starting to speak like that, too. ¡°Issues?¡± Illia asked, placing heavy enunciation on the s¡¯s. She waved for him to follow down a long, doorless corridor to a narrow room with desks lining one wall. The desks were covered in parchment and paper. Each was occupied by a hunched-over person scribbling furiously with ink on paper, with only the one closest to the door being empty. Illia¡¯s desk. It wasn¡¯t until they arrived that he figured out how to proceed with the conversation. Vidar couldn¡¯t just outright ask about the dead monsters with gems for eyes. They¡¯d either toss him out on his ass or throw him in jail for that. He spoke in a hushed whisper, not wanting to disrupt the work of Illia¡¯s five colleagues. ¡°How do you know where the blockages have formed?¡± Illia scoffed. ¡°That is a question, not an issue.¡± This time, she put the emphasis on the u in issue, rather than the s¡¯s. One of the others sighed without looking up. ¡°I¡¯ll get to the issues,¡± Vidar promised. Illia glared daggers at one of the men, of which there were two, but didn¡¯t comment on the sigh. Instead, she answered Vidar. ¡°We receive reports and complaints from the citizenry. A lot of complaints.¡± ¡°Complaints?¡± ¡°When water no longer flows from their pipes, they complain. When their offal is not immediately carried away, they complain. All complaints, every day. From these concerned citizens¡¯ writs, we triangulate from where they receive their water and where their waste is carried away. Where enough of them intersect, we mark a map that eventually ends up in your care.¡± ¡°I think I understand,¡± Vidar said. The seated people never stopped working, but one of them scoffed. Illia nodded for Vidar to follow and she brought him to a second room. This one was bigger, like a storage room, only you couldn¡¯t even see the wall. It was filled from floor to ceiling with pieces of paper stacked tall or dumped into containers of all shapes and sizes, some large enough to take up a considerable part of the room. Kenaz runes shone from several places affixed to the walls. She put her hand against the side of one such container. ¡°In here, we store complaints from citizens who report brackish taste in their water. It is the most common complaint.¡± Vidar reached up and grabbed the rim before jumping to get a quick look down at enough pieces of paper to swim among them. ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°Salt water. The system is designed to remove the salt from the seawater to make it drinkable. It has been failing for one reason or another the last few hundreds of years. Only about a third of Halmstadt¡¯s population now has drinkable water, which is why we should focus on repairs. The problem is, no one knows how any of it works, and my requests for funding are denied again and again.¡± ¡°What about those without clean water?¡± Illia¡¯s shoulders slumped forward from their rigid position. ¡°You¡¯re the second person to pose that question to this branch of the administration in just a few weeks¡¯ time.¡± ¡°Oh?¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°It is nothing,¡± she said, putting emphasis on the o in nothing. ¡°A curious scribe. If only the Crown would be so interested as today¡¯s youth. Wells. Everyone else uses wells.¡± ¡°So, they¡¯re carrying their water in from outside.¡± She nodded. ¡°That is correct. We have suggested, then demanded, then finally pleaded with our betters to make a concentrated effort to restore the water part of the system below our feet.¡± ¡°They don¡¯t want to,¡± Vidar guessed. ¡°They do not want to,¡± Illia confirmed. ¡°To be fair, it would be a mountainous task.¡± ¡°It is pretty big down there.¡± She let out a strange little laugh without opening her mouth, air expelling in short bursts from her nose. ¡°That is part of it. The bigger problem is that it is inaccessible with all the larger entrances lost to time. Much, if not most, of our information was destroyed in rampaging fires at one time or another. No schematics or engineering blueprint explaining the mechanisms have survived.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Vidar said, his mind racing. ¡°You¡¯re saying you don¡¯t know how any of it works?¡± Illia removed her glasses and polished them with the white fabric of her tunic before replacing them. ¡°There is no need to concern yourself with anything beyond your task, but your deduction is incorrect. We absolutely do know how most of the system functions, just not to the full extent. Just be glad it is not the waste transportation system that is failing. Once that happens, we will all smell like you.¡± They returned to the work room, where Illia¡¯s colleagues were still busy scribbling away. ¡°How long before the water-cleaning thing breaks down?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°We have no way of knowing that with any accuracy, but it will be in your lifetime if nothing changes. It has stood for many hundreds of years¡ªa marvel, really¡ªand it will crumble within a few decades.¡± ¡°Try a few years,¡± the one who¡¯d sighed earlier said, without raising his head. Vidar looked over to the thickset man, hunched over a blank piece of paper, a thick brown coat draped over his shoulders. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Do not concern yourself,¡± Illia said. ¡°I did not mean to frighten you, boy.¡± He let the condescending ¡°boy¡± go and pressed for more information. These people seemed to enjoy sharing their knowledge, since the Crown, and probably most everyone else, cared little for it. ¡°What is under the sewer system?¡± Illia¡¯s eyebrows drew together in confusion. ¡°Under?¡± Vidar chose his words carefully. ¡°In many places, water drops into these huge basins. In one such basin, the wall was broken. It was hollow, with a chamber on the other side.¡± Everyone stopped their scribbling and turned to him. ¡°Where was this?¡± a pale, old woman who hadn¡¯t said a word before asked, her eyes shining with interest. ¡°All we know is that the system was built in a previously existing space. The tunnels existed before they were shored up and repurposed for the system in place today,¡± Illia explained. ¡°No one alive today has seen anything like what you just described,¡± the grunting man said. ¡°The Crown should investigate.¡± The one at the far end of the room, a young man Vidar¡¯s age with blond hair and tired eyes, laughed mirthlessly. ¡°The Crown does not care about the past. It no longer employs a single historian.¡± ¡°What of the places where the rune lantern flickers?¡± Vidar asked, trying to regain control of the conversation. ¡°You bring interesting tidbits of knowledge, my boy,¡± the sighing man said. ¡°We have no information on such a location.¡± The young man¡¯s tired eyes opened wide. ¡°Perhaps it is connected to the waning effect of the light runes down there?¡± ¡°No longer waning,¡± the old woman said. ¡°They have long since gone dark.¡± ¡°There are kenaz runes down there?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Embedded in the walls with small openings to let out the light. From what little we know, they were somehow designed to harness essence from the mechanism cleaning the seawater,¡± Illia said. ¡°They didn¡¯t need a rune scribe to rejuvenate them?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Supposedly not. I once posed the question to the rune scribes employed by the Crown, but they denied knowledge of any such mechanism,¡± Illia said. ¡°The guild won¡¯t share any information either, if they know of any such mechanism,¡± the young man said. ¡°Perhaps that student who visited here will have better luck.¡± ¡°You really care about these sorts of things,¡± Vidar said. His inquiries to these people mostly served to increase the number of his questions, rather than give him answers, but he, too, found the topic interesting. ¡°We care about the system providing water to and removing offal from the city,¡± Illia said. ¡°We¡¯re not here for the pay, that¡¯s a certainty,¡± the sighing man said, sighing. ¡°They¡¯re talking of removing half of us,¡± a quiet woman in her middle years said, speaking for the first time. ¡°Let¡¯s see them try,¡± the old woman croaked, shaking her fist in the air. Vidar stepped back out into the corridor. ¡°Thank you for your time. I better get started on clearing the latest blockages.¡± ¡°Hold on. You need to tell us more of your discoveries,¡± the sighing man said. ¡°No time today, I¡¯m afraid. I promise, I¡¯ll return.¡± Vidar found himself outside again soon thereafter and decided enough was enough regarding the snow and the cold. He pondered their answers as he made his way to a wine shop and procured enough vinegar to submerge the padlock before heading back to Rat Town. Finding a landlord willing to rent him a room proved easier than he¡¯d feared, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor of a small but comfortable¡ªand furnished¡ªroom on the second floor of an inn not far from Embla¡¯s house. According to the innkeeper, a rotund woman past her middle years with hair all turned to gray and her fat cheeks sagging, they didn¡¯t get many customers who chose to stay the night. Most just wanted a chair and some cheap alcohol to wash away the day¡¯s work, or lack of work. It played in Vidar¡¯s favor, allowing him to rent a room long term rather than pay per night. The cost still made his eyes bulge, but he was able to pay for the first month up front, even if that ate up most of his funds. Still, he was confident he could make more. Vidar retrieved his hidden possessions and set to work once the padlock was submerged in a bowl of vinegar. The room stank of it, but a few days down in the sewers had made his nose resilient to strong odors. With the all the tools necessary spread out before him, Vidar set to work re-creating that first sowilo rune. Four strokes for the symbol. It did not take him long to remake the ruined one. He held the finished sowilo rune in the palm of his hand, staring down at it without blinking. Compared to the rubbing, a few of the lines were a little off. Not by much, not much at all. Close enough. It would work, he decided. With his eyes closed, Vidar imagined the circle of essence with the sowilo rune imprinted on it. Warmth. This rune would provide him warmth. The thought ran through his head as he carefully imagined a narrow opening at the bottom of the circle. Essence flowed from his hand and arm as he willed that intangible, and renewable, part of himself into the circle, allowing it to drain into the physical rune crafted from wood and paint. The rune drew a lot of essence from him. It rendered his arm useless and threatened to draw from his chest before Vidar closed the opening. The sowilo rune circle remained firm in his mind¡¯s eye. If he wasn¡¯t mistaken, it was about half-full. Vidar wasn¡¯t sure if he imagined it or not, but he thought this one might have drained essence faster than his first attempt. He opened his eyes and examined the lines. Messy. A few strands on the brush were already sitting at odd angles, adding thin streaks of the red paint where they should not go. Even the strokes themselves weren¡¯t fully straight, and at one point, he¡¯d hesitated. An unsightly splotch was proof of his inexperience. Grinding his teeth, Vidar shook his useless arm, hoping it would quicken the recovery. Another mistake, draining essence from the arm he used to paint with. It was like he¡¯d done every mistake possible. Useless, his father called him. A disgrace. A cold wind blew outside the poorly fitted window, lowering the already dismal temperature of the room. With the innkeeper¡¯s refusal to use runes¡ªwell, her inability to afford them¡ªand the fact the whole aged building was built with wood, it made for a poor combination. The place was cold. Not as bad as the shacks, but it wasn¡¯t a big step up. Vidar drew in, then expelled a deep breath, muttering, ¡°Screw you, Father.¡± He made a slight opening in the circle in his mind¡¯s eye, triggering it. A faint glow spread through the painted lines and warmth bloomed. Vidar felt the heat coming off the wooden disc. His eyes grew wide with wonder. Tears streamed down his cheeks for some reason, and he had to wipe them off with the sleeve of his coat, then lean back and grab the rough cloth on his small table in the corner to wipe running snot from his nose. Curious, Vidar held the rune against the wooden leg of his lumpy bed, careful not to touch the paint to the wood, afraid it would smudge it. The bed leg grew warm and a thin strand of smoke soon drifted from it, filling the room with the smell of burning timber. He made a mental note of the symbols themselves being extremely hot. Little by little, he made the opening thinner and thinner until it was almost imperceptible. Only then could he touch the rune without burning himself. Satisfied at having discovered how to use the sowilo runes in his clothing, he greatly increased the size of the opening, allowing more essence to flow from the rune before placing it back down on the floor. With that much heat coming off it, the room soon grew temperate enough to be comfortable. Vidar basked in the warmth for a moment, sitting cross-legged before the rune, before raising both fists toward the ceiling in victory. ¡°Hell yes,¡± he muttered. ¡°I did it. I really did it.¡± Chapter 19
Thoroughly warm and content, Vidar stepped out from his room with a new, triggered sowilo rune in his breast pocket, giving off enough heat to keep the worst cold off him without burning through his clothes. Having waited for the paint to dry, he was now in possession of two more sowilo runes and three kenaz runes. His arms and legs tingled but had regained most of their essence following a hearty meal from the innkeeper after she properly introduced herself as Edna. Resigning his position with Embla was next on the agenda. Everyone else would be returning from their daily tasks and he would much rather have people around when he gave back the key and the map. Lacking paper, he¡¯d scribbled a map depicting a rough approximation of his last excursion down into the sewers on the wall of his room. Just in case he forgot the way. During the short trek to Embla¡¯s house, he thought of ways he might fit heat runes into his shoes. The heat radiating from the sowilo rune at his chest did little to stave off the wet and the cold seeping in through the seams of his shoes. ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± Embla¡¯s eyes were wide with some emotion he couldn¡¯t quite pinpoint. It wasn¡¯t anger, like he¡¯d feared, and it definitely wasn¡¯t worry. Consternation, perhaps, like she couldn¡¯t wrap her head around what he was saying. A sense of betrayal might be mixed in there too, if he wasn¡¯t mistaken. ¡°I am,¡± he confirmed, handing over the map and the key. The room was silent. Tired urchins squeezed together on wooden benches looked on with varying levels of boredom. Ida and Siv showed identical looks of intense interest, but he sensed their reasons differed. ¡°Does this have something to do with your visit uptown?¡± Embla asked. ¡°Yes, and no. They are not as keen of mind as I¡¯d hoped, but it¡¯s mostly a concern for my own safety. I¡¯ve almost died every time I set foot down there. I¡¯m not much, but I¡¯m all I have. Would be a shame to die while smelling of shit.¡± Embla pursed her lips in thought but did not question his motives. ¡°You¡¯ll be difficult to replace. Do you wish to dig graves for the priests, then?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯ve decided to leave the group altogether.¡± ¡°Thought as much. Good luck to you, then, Vidar. You may eat today, provided you completed your task, but then you must be off. We have neither space nor food for those who do not work.¡± Vidar glanced around the big, empty house, but said nothing. Instead, he nodded and turned to leave, encouraged by Embla¡¯s lack of reaction. For some reason, he¡¯d expected fury from the rigid young woman. For her to call down the brute and have him sit on Vidar, or worse. ¡°Vidar.¡± He froze and slowly turned to look over his shoulder. ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡± ¡°I am?¡± he asked, his chest tightening. ¡°The light rune.¡± The breath stuck in his throat flowed out in relief. ¡°Oh. The light rune.¡± Vidar reached into a pocket and triggered the kenaz rune before withdrawing it. He stepped up and placed it on the large desk separating him from Embla, along with a few copper coins. ¡°For the lantern,¡± he explained. ¡°Lost it.¡± ¡°A few days and you¡¯re ready to leave with coins in your pocket,¡± she mused. ¡°Did you find hidden treasure down there that you forgot to share with the rest of us, Vidar?¡± ¡°No, nothing like that,¡± he said. ¡°Found a scribe who is allowing me to work for him. That¡¯s all.¡± She gave him a searching look, then a short nod that did not mean she believed him. Vidar could tell, but Embla didn¡¯t question him further, so he turned to leave again. ¡°Wait!¡± Ida then shouted, jumping out of her seat on the bench to point a stiff finger at Embla behind her desk. ¡°We¡¯re leaving too! Come on, Siv!¡± A murmur broke out among the other urchins. Clearly, they were not happy with this development. ¡°Becoming a petty thief is not a grand future for someone as bright as you, Ida,¡± Embla said, raising her voice so it carried over the confused, hurt din of voices. ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild will have your hide before the week is out, if the guardsmen don¡¯t catch you first.¡± Ida scoffed. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± She moved past Vidar, who didn¡¯t know what to make of the scene, and Siv followed, looking back to both Embla and him, her eyes wide with could only be translated as fright. Vidar exited the building after the two girls, then shouted, ¡°Ida, hold on!¡± ¡°What?¡± she asked, turning. ¡°Do you even have a place to stay?¡± Her hard face softened and that smile she¡¯d been wearing the day they met, before she realized he wasn¡¯t their long-lost friend, returned. ¡°Nope, but we¡¯ll think of something. That silver you paid us will go a long way and we¡¯ve got some things hidden away. Anything is better than spending another day sewing socks.¡± Vidar wasn¡¯t so sure he agreed with that sentiment, but he¡¯d get nowhere trying to question her decision. Done was done. ¡°I have a room. You can stay with me if you want. For a short time, anyway.¡± Ida frowned. ¡°Staying with a boy is not a good idea.¡± ¡°I¡¯m old enough to be your father,¡± Vidar blurted, incredulity in his voice. Siv giggled and Ida laughed out loud. ¡°Well, I am,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Almost.¡± Ida put a hand on his shoulder. They were of the same height. ¡°You¡¯re one of the good ones, I think, but that changes nothing. We don¡¯t stay with boys. That¡¯s one mistake we will not repeat, right, Siv?¡± Siv nodded hesitantly, touching the scar wrapping around the right side of her throat. Vidar didn¡¯t know what to say, so he gave them the name of the inn where he was staying, just in case they needed to find him, then said, ¡°Goodbye.¡± On the way to the rune scribes¡¯ guild, Vidar made quite a few stops, trying to sell his wares. Initially, there was some resistance. Even in the less fortunate part of town, the people knew about the guild¡¯s writ and his inability to produce one was met with suspicion. The first few attempts at convincing potential customers they faced no more risk than having the runes taken from them failed. They would not even allow him to rejuvenate already present runes for reduced prices. Until one did. A young woman with a babe on her hip, one running around her skirts, and a husband off working somewhere eventually disappeared deep into the house she apparently shared with two other families, only to return with a spent kenaz rune. ¡°This one?¡± Vidar asked, taking it from her outstretched hand. ¡°We don¡¯t have much money,¡± the young woman said. Her eyes were watery and her upper lip stiff, like she was barely holding it together for her children. Vidar scratched at his ear and looked away from her face. ¡°Can you perhaps spare a meal?¡± That was how he found himself seated at a rickety table in a cramped kitchen with a bowl of soup in front of him and a generous helping of bread to go with it. It didn¡¯t taste half-bad, but it looked suspiciously similar to what the urchins were offered after a day of working. ¡°My husband gets paid by the week,¡± the young woman explained, seated opposite him by the table. More children were running around now and two other women chased after them, both a little older than the one speaking with Vidar. Vidar made a noise of acknowledgement, his mouth full of soup. A draft made it in through the poorly sealed window. The kitchen¡ªreally only a small room with a stove and a table¡ªhad been pitch black before he rejuvenated the rune. Just as he swallowed a mouthful of food, he saw how she pulled her many layers of clothes tighter around herself. ¡°It¡¯s cold in here,¡± Vidar said. ¡°It¡¯s a little better during the day, when the children run about, bouncing off the walls. We¡¯re living together to help keep warm, my family and the others.¡± He was about to offer the woman a sowilo rune but pulled back before letting it slip past his lips. Despite understanding the plight of these people, he was in no position to go handing out runes without compensation. Even one warmth rune required more essence than he could spare, forcing him to walk around with a useless arm for quite some time. This highlighted a predicament he hadn¡¯t, but should have, anticipated. People were poor. Even at highly discounted prices, many would not have the funds to purchase his wares and services. He¡¯d give it a little longer, walking the streets of Andersburg, before heading uptown where the citizenry wasn¡¯t quite so destitute. The probability of being caught by the guild or reported to the Crown for his activities both increased with every street he crossed northward, but it was a risk he would have to accept given the lack of alternatives. If nothing else, he needed enough coin to pay for his room. He said his goodbyes after finishing the meal, promising himself he would find some way to offer some measure of help to those who could not afford it, but only once he was comfortably wealthy. After visiting a few more family houses and making no progress, he happened upon a row of businesses, one of which was a bookshop of all things. How such a place could stay open in a part of town where people could not afford proper light and warmth, Vidar couldn¡¯t fathom. Curious, he entered. The door was unlocked and a small bell jingled merrily when he opened the door. It smelled of stale air and a type of glue used in binding books that went out of style more than a decade before Vidar was even born. Books were set in piles on the floor and on top of an assortment of tables with little organization. The place was free of dust and kept that dryness he associated with places where books were meant to be stored for long periods of time, like libraries or private collections. Not an easy balance to strike, even with sowilo runes. He saw none in that space, but knew there would have to be some.Stolen story; please report. Vidar did see several kenaz runes. They brightened the room and were of fine quality, as far as he could tell, with symbols carefully scratched and painted onto a metal plate, like the ones his father kept in his house. A man cleared his throat behind Vidar, who jumped and spun to face the door. He hadn¡¯t realized how far into the room he¡¯d gone, and the way out was now blocked by a gruff-looking man with a long, dark brown mustache and eyebrows like thick caterpillars crawling across his brow. ¡°W-who are you?¡± Vidar asked, taking another step back, farther into the room. Those enormous eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, and he moved his hand in a gesture to encompass the entirety of the room. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean? It¡¯s my shop, isn¡¯t it?¡± The man wore a worker¡¯s outfit of thick, uncolored fabric and a leather vest, and a cap on his bald head. With arms thick enough to strain the sleeves of the shirt, and hands covered in thin, white scars, the man before him did not strike Vidar as the proprietor of a bookshop. ¡°Are you sure?¡± Vidar asked, the question sounding dumb even to his own ears. ¡°Look, boy, you coming in here stinking up the place. Do you want a book or not? Just take one and go.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll give me a book?¡± Vidar asked. The man, blocking his way out, grabbed one from a pile at random and held it out in front of him. ¡°Just take it and go.¡± It was one Vidar had seen before. Even with his issue of letters jumping around, he recognized it from the shelf of books his mother kept. She read a very particular sort of book. ¡°The Prince Who Loved a Maid?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°I¡¯m not one for romance stories. Can you even read?¡± The man returned the book to its pile with surprising care, then stepped forward, squaring up. The reddishness of his face was not from embarrassment. No, that was clearly an ill-restrained fury. ¡°How about I pick you up and toss you face-first into the snow?¡± Vidar held up both hands. The room suddenly felt very small and cramped, with no escape to be had. ¡°Apologies. I¡¯m only teasing.¡± ¡°Speak up, runt! What are you even doing in here?¡± The wide, now very menacing man moved even closer, near enough to reach out and crush him like an egg. Vidar stepped back again and bumped into a table, sending several books plummeting to the floor. He winced and pulled out a kenaz rune. ¡°I¡¯m here to sell runes, but it seems you already have plenty!¡± At that moment, one of the light runes by the left wall flickered and then fell dark. They both stared at it for a moment. ¡°Show me the guild¡¯s writ.¡± Vidar turned to look at the man who apparently was the bookstore owner, expecting a new wave of rage from the man at this next revelation. ¡°I don¡¯t have one.¡± But anger did not blossom. Instead, curiosity spread through the face of the man still blocking the only way out. Then, the man narrowed his eyes. ¡°A guildless rune scribe? I don¡¯t believe you.¡± Without thinking, Vidar pointed the kenaz rune to the ceiling and triggered it. Bright light shone against the wooden beams up above and the planks above those. He didn¡¯t take his eyes off the large man and saw his expression change from expectant interest to some sort of gleeful excitement. The man even started rubbing his hands together, like he was looking at a particularly scrumptious meal. ¡°We¡¯ll work with you,¡± he said, pausing. ¡°What is your name, boy?¡± Vidar rendered the kenaz rune inactive and put it back in his pocket. ¡°We? Who¡¯re ¡®we¡¯? I¡¯m Vidar, and I¡¯m no boy.¡± ¡°A gal? You?¡± Vidar pulled back his shoulders and stood up straight. ¡°I¡¯m a man!¡± ¡°Of course you are, boy. I¡¯m Ren. Wait here a moment,¡± he replied, shuffling past the many stacks of books and tables, pushing past Vidar to a desk at the back. Vidar thought of escaping through the now unblocked door, but Ren didn¡¯t have that menacing aura anymore, now that the anger in him was replaced by barely contained excitement. ¡°Here you go.¡± Vidar jumped and turned back around to see Ren standing right in front of him. With wide eyes, he wondered how the huge shopkeeper had moved on such silent feet. Ren must¡¯ve seen something in his eyes, because he pulled back his hand with the note when Vidar reached for it. ¡°Why don¡¯t we walk there together instead?¡± ¡°Walk where?¡± Vidar asked, apprehensive. Ren put his arm around Vidar¡¯s shoulders and steered him toward the door, shepherding him back out into the cold. ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± he said. The man didn¡¯t even bother locking the front door to his shop. Thankfully, the walk wasn¡¯t far. Their destination was still in Rat Town, in one of the more upscale buildings near the town wall. It loomed far up above their heads, casting a long shadow in the now setting sun. Vidar didn¡¯t mind the wall. The thick, solid stone structure kept them all safe from what lurked beyond. Wild animals and bandits, even monsters skulked around out there, some said. He himself never set foot outside Halmstadt. With his father¡¯s customers being located in the city proper, there¡¯d never been a reason. It wasn¡¯t that Vidar was afraid of going through the gate and out onto the open road. It just wasn¡¯t in his nature, that was all. Once, as a child, he¡¯d been permitted to enter one of the stairways up to the parapet and see for himself. To see the open fields and the forest beyond. When he turned from that position, he glimpsed the vastness of the sea. Neither sea nor land awoke any sort of wanderlust in him. Vidar was happy in the city. He¡¯d seen the faces of those walking in through the gate. They looked tired, even ragged. Some were fearful, others full of grief. He wasn¡¯t sure about what was out there, but he wanted no part of it. ¡°This is it,¡± Ren said, snapping Vidar out of his reverie, gazing up at the stone wall. Vidar blinked. ¡°Where are we?¡± Ren made a sweeping gesture with his arm encompassing the entire building. ¡°This is our chapter house in Andersburg.¡± ¡°Chapter house?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°For what?¡± He saw no signage or any other hints of what might transpire within the unadorned wooden walls and beneath the sagging roof in desperate need of repair. ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild, of course.¡± That made Vidar stop dead in his tracks. ¡°The what?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a bounty out for someone like you, you see. You¡¯re about to get me a nice little purse of silver.¡± ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild is looking for me?¡± Vidar looked up the street and down the nearby alleyways. If he made a run for it, perhaps he could outpace the much larger man. Even able to move as silently as he¡¯d done in the shop, someone that big couldn¡¯t be all that fast. All he needed was one of those narrow gaps between houses that¡¯d saved him last time. Ren put his hand on Vidar¡¯s shoulder again, as if sensing the instinct to flee. ¡°Not you specifically, no.¡± A light of curiosity went off in Vidar¡¯s mind. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°A guildless rune scribe is what we¡¯re after. You fit that description from what you¡¯ve told me. It¡¯s my good fortune you stumbled into my little shop.¡± ¡°But I just started a few days ago,¡± Vidar protested. Ren shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not privy to the inner workings of the guild, but the note said nothing of skill level or years of practice. If they stiff me, there¡¯ll be hell to pay. You¡¯ll see.¡± They entered the house together, and Vidar didn¡¯t know what to make of it. All he¡¯d heard of the thieves¡¯ guild was that you should stay clear of them. ¡°Here he is!¡± Ren boomed as soon as they¡¯d closed the door behind them. The room was small, dark, and without furnishings other than a cramped desk with a chair behind it. In that chair, an older man sat scribbling in a large ledger. The only thing on that table other than the ledger was a lantern. A warm, flickering glow danced behind the glass, throwing dark shadows on the wall behind them. ¡°Ren,¡± the man behind the desk said, looking up from his writings to show a wrinkled face. It looked like it was in the process of melting off him, with loose skin hanging everywhere. Dark spots dotted his face and the whites of his eyes were tinted yellow and looked sickly. The dark brown robe this old man wore was lumpy and conformed strangely to his body, like he¡¯d recently lost a lot of weight. The man before Vidar was not long for this world, if he had to guess. ¡°I¡¯ve brought the rune scribe, Bera,¡± Ren said. ¡°Now hand over the silver!¡± The deathly sick man who apparently bore the name of Bera laboriously moved his gaze to Vidar, then back to Ren. He then blinked, his gaze unfocusing. ¡°Bera!¡± Ren boomed. Bera sat up with a gasp and looked around in confusion, like he¡¯d been asleep. ¡°Don¡¯t go dying on me just yet, you old bastard. Not before you get me the silver!¡± ¡°What silver?¡± ¡°For the scribe! The rune scribe!¡± Ren¡¯s shouts grew increasingly frustrated. He gestured to an inactive kenaz rune painted onto a wooden plate on the wall and turned to Vidar. ¡°Would you?¡± Vidar didn¡¯t dare refuse. He walked over, touched the symbol, and willed some of his essence into the rune. Only enough to make his hand a little tingly. It would not last long. That done, he triggered it. Yellow light filled the room. It was similar to the light from the flame, only not as warm and with much greater effect. The dark shadows dancing on the walls in tune with the candle¡¯s flickering disappeared. Vidar blinked, thinking he just saw one of those shadows moving oddly and disappearing a moment after the others. He ignored the moment¡¯s confusion. Must¡¯ve been a trick of the light. The light from the kenaz rune also brought some semblance of realization to Bera¡¯s dim eyes. He pointed a long, bony finger at Vidar, wet his lips with a disgusting smack, then began flipping pages in the ledger until he found what he was looking for. ¡°Here,¡± he finally said. Both Vidar and Ren leaned over the table to get a look, but Vidar couldn¡¯t make anything out. The pages were filled with tiny text written with a terrible, trembling hand. ¡°Twelve years,¡± Bera murmured. ¡°Old.¡± Vidar turned to Ren. ¡°You¡¯ve been searching for a rune scribe for twelve years?¡± ¡°It¡¯s been in there forever,¡± Ren confirmed. ¡°But, I don¡¯t understand. It isn¡¯t that difficult. Anyone could do it. You¡¯re the thieves¡¯ guild. You must have someone who isn¡¯t afraid of the rune scribes¡¯ guild.¡± ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m not privy to that sort of information, but I know there have been attempts.¡± ¡°Attempts at what?¡± Vidar asked, dumbfounded. ¡°Learning, of course.¡± ¡°And?¡± Ren shrugged. ¡°I heard they all died. This was years ago.¡± A pair of young men entered through a side door, glanced at Ren and Vidar, then continued to the exit in silence. They shut the door outside behind them without another word. ¡°Take your issue to the disappointment of a whelp in the auxiliary,¡± Bera croaked, indicating a door to his right, Vidar¡¯s left. Ren herded Vidar deeper into the building. This room, too, was lit with nothing more than candles. At least there were several here. This room was more spacious, holding several desks and three lines of simple chairs, all facing one way. A room for meetings, perhaps. Only one desk was occupied. ¡°Yallander, you bastard!¡± Ren shouted at the figure who wore the same sort of brown robe as Bera. He needn¡¯t have shouted, since they¡¯d been spotted the moment they entered the room. Yallander gestured for them to sit. He himself sat with a straight back and an imperious look on his face, his face tilted slightly upward. It gave Vidar the impression of this fellow looking down at him. The fact his desk was on a raised platform in front of all those empty chairs only added to the effect. He found himself immediately disliking this Yallander person. Yallander stood and went around his desk to stand before them. He held out his hand to Vidar, who took it. ¡°Who is this you have with you, Ren? I¡¯m Yallander. Pleased to meet you.¡± ¡°Vidar.¡± ¡°Welcome, Vidar,¡± Yallander said. ¡°Since that old bastard sent you in here, I¡¯m guessing you have some sort of proposition for me. I¡¯m all ears.¡± ¡°Rune scribe,¡± Ren said while nodding with gravitas. Yallander¡¯s eyes widened a little, and a genuine-seeming smile spread over his face. It made the man look ten years younger and Vidar would have placed his age perhaps a decade past his own, if it wasn¡¯t for the multitude of gray hairs on his head. ¡°Since you¡¯re in here and not dead and dumped somewhere unsightly, I suppose you are not affiliated with the guild in Halmstadt. An outsider, then. Have you traveled from our grand capital, perhaps?¡± Vidar cleared his throat. ¡°No, I¡¯m from right here. I¡¯m not sure what is happening, but Ren dragged me here. I am not part of the rune scribes¡¯ guild, but I am capable of rune craft.¡± Yallander¡¯s eyes shone in the light from the candle flame. ¡°Well, well, well. How fortuitous for us all. Ren, you¡¯ve done well. Perhaps you¡¯ve outgrown the musty bookshop and atoned for your missteps. Why don¡¯t you head back and I¡¯ll send coin over first thing tomorrow, along with word of your new posting? We¡¯re looking for a guardsman, if you¡¯re up to it.¡± ¡°A guardsman? Really?¡± Ren asked, a grim smile on his face. He cracked his knuckles and stood. ¡°You know I¡¯m up for it, Yallander.¡± He then nodded to Vidar and turned to walk out of the room without another word. Vidar didn¡¯t fully understand what just transpired between the two members of the thieves¡¯ guild, but he did not like the mention of a thief working as a guardsman. Since it was none of his business, he kept his mouth shut about the matter. Instead, he asked, ¡°Why am I here? What is going on?¡± Chapter 20
¡°We, the guild, ran afoul of the scribes a long while back,¡± Yallander explained. ¡°Since then, they¡¯ve refused selling us new runes and even stopped rejuvenating runes in places that are obviously connected with the guild. Operating in darkness may be what people consider normal for thieves, but it isn¡¯t quite so simple.¡± Vidar¡¯s mind worked furiously. This might turn out well for him. Really well. ¡°You¡¯re looking to buy runes? I can sell you runes.¡± Yallander held up a hand to forestall. ¡°Perhaps. What we are in most dire need of is a teacher in the art of rune crafting.¡± ¡°Teacher?¡± ¡°You will be well compensated, and we¡¯ll keep you safe from the rune scribes¡¯ guild, to the extent that¡¯s possible.¡± ¡°I¡¯m no master,¡± Vidar said, carefully choosing his words. The thought of teaching did little to excite him, but he didn¡¯t want to rate his skill too low, or Yallander might reconsider becoming a paying customer. Also, that protection was a valuable proposition. ¡°My runes work just fine, but teaching is not something I have experience in.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be a wonderful teacher. Please return here tomorrow morning before daybreak. By then, we will have gathered a few students for you. Your rate will be ten silver per day for a few hours¡¯ work. I¡¯m sure that will suffice?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Vidar began, then his eyes widened as realized how much Yallander said they¡¯d pay him. Ten silver. More than enough to live comfortably on, even if he couldn¡¯t sell or rejuvenate a single rune, and only for a few hours of work, no less. Vidar narrowed his eyes. ¡°As you say, this service would be invaluable to you. I¡¯m sure twenty silver is a more reasonable rate. Don¡¯t you agree?¡± He found himself slipping into the other man¡¯s speech pattern, like some experienced merchant peddling his wares by cozying up to his potential customers. ¡°Fifteen,¡± Yallander said, his voice flat. ¡°But that includes you rejuvenating a few runes in this building.¡± Vidar stood and reached over the desk, grabbing Yallander¡¯s hand to shake it. ¡°We have a deal. Tomorrow, then?¡± ¡°Before first light.¡± Nodding, Vidar turned and headed out. ¡°Vidar?¡± He turned back around. ¡°Yes?¡± Yallander gestured to a kenaz rune on the wall near his desk. ¡°Do you mind?¡± The first thing that leapt into Vidar¡¯s mind was that he absolutely should demand compensation, but then he thought better of it. This was the thieves¡¯ guild, after all. Building up some level of goodwill would probably be more valuable to him in the weeks and months to come. ¡°Of course,¡± Vidar said, walking over to rejuvenate the rune. He gave it just enough essence to last through the day and the night, if he was right about how much would be expended through the already present opening. It required even less than he expected from his own stores of essence. Only the finger he used to touch the symbol with was affected, and not by much. Vidar briefly examined the symbol. Perhaps the well-crafted, rigid lines of this kenaz rune, compared to his self-crafted ones, served to make the rune more efficient. It was the only reason he could think of. Well, he did think of another. Perhaps he was simply improving. It did make some sense that he¡¯d get better at all the different aspects of this new art of his. Vidar would have to ask Alvarn. With the rune rejuvenated and a nod of appreciation from Yallander, Vidar left. Filled with unanswered questions, it was time he found Alvarn. There was a lot to keep in his head, everything from the last couple of days. Things were happening so fast. Vidar barely kept up. Now, with a steady supply of silver, he could afford to slow down a little. As luck would have it, Alvarn was right by the midpoint on the stairs when Vidar arrived a little later. He hurried down the steps. ¡°You¡¯re here!¡± ¡°Where were you?¡± Vidar asked, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. He was glad to have found Alvarn again, but realized he felt a little hurt. Alvarn winced and hung his head. ¡°News of the incident right here with the other boys quickly spread and reached the scribes. They punished me by revoking my right to roam beyond the walls of this place,¡± he said, pointing up at the sizable building towering over them. ¡°I¡¯ve been sequestered in the basement for the last several days, doing nothing but empowering newly crafted runes until I could barely breathe.¡± ¡°Harsh,¡± Vidar said. ¡°You didn¡¯t even do anything.¡± ¡°They are not a kindly bunch. Sorry I missed our meeting,¡± Alvarn said, looking up at the huge set of doors at the top of the stairs. They were opening. He nodded to a side street, and once the two were out of sight, he asked, ¡°Have you made any attempt with a kenaz rune? I¡¯ve been worried about you and wanted to come search Andersburg, but I didn¡¯t dare enter that part of town.¡± ¡°Do you have to make rounds and rejuvenate runes again or something?¡± Vidar asked. Alvarn shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m banned from doing even that for the time being.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re free?¡± He nodded. ¡°Good, because I have questions. Do you know someplace warm nearby we could go and talk?¡± ¡°How about I treat you to some food?¡± Alvarn asked. Vidar grinned. ¡°That would be acceptable.¡± The lingering scent around Vidar made the first proprietor refuse them entry to his inn, but it didn¡¯t take long to find a second place where no one raised any eyebrows. The clientele was a little rougher, but they gathered around their tables with cards or dice as they downed tankards of beer. The rowdiness was not something Vidar would have anticipated this far uptown, but drunken abandon was apparently not limited to the poor. They were seated in the far corner, where they would get some semblance of privacy as they spoke. While they waited for the food to arrive, Vidar couldn¡¯t contain his questions any longer. ¡°Where does the circle come from?¡± Alvarn, who was nursing a tall glass of beer, looked up over the rim with confusion plain on his face. ¡°What circle?¡± ¡°The circle. You know? The circle you see in your mind when you make, rejuvenate, or trigger a rune. How does that work?¡± ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about. You did trigger a kenaz rune, then?¡± Vidar waved that question away after taking a large gulp of beer out of his own somewhat dirty glass. ¡°Of course, of course. You don¡¯t see a circle in your mind? And trigger a rune by making an opening at the top to let essence flow out?¡± ¡°Ah, now I see,¡± Alvarn said. Vidar nodded, pleased to have Alvarn finally understand what he was getting at. ¡°You¡¯ve been doing it all wrong,¡± Alvarn continued. Choking on his beer, Vidar croaked, ¡°What?¡± ¡°Well, perhaps wrong is too harsh. You¡¯ve been doing it in a different way than what¡¯s been taught to me by the guild. No wonder, really, since you haven¡¯t been taught at all.¡± ¡°So, what do you see?¡± ¡°No shapes. We¡¯re taught to visualize the essence flowing from ourselves and into the rune we¡¯ve crafted. If we¡¯re triggering one, we let that essence flow through the rune.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound so different from what I¡¯m doing.¡± Alvarn emptied his glass and raised his hand to order another. ¡°I suppose not. In the end, if it works for you, then it works. I¡¯m not well-versed enough to tell you if this circle of yours will have adverse effects. Just be careful.¡± Vidar gulped down his beer to keep up. ¡°Why do sowilo runes need more essence to work and why are some runes easier to rejuvenate than others, even if they¡¯re both light runes?¡± A hiccup escaped through Alvarn¡¯s suddenly open mouth. ¡°You made a rune of your own? And you interacted with a sowilo rune?¡± ¡°I did. Why? What¡¯s wrong?¡± Alvarn¡¯s voice took on a hint of stern reproach. ¡°I told you to be careful.¡± ¡°I was!¡± Vidar protested. ¡°After two years as a student, I¡¯ve just recently reached far enough in my studies to create sowilo runes for myself.¡± He brought out three wooden discs and placed the first one on the table. A kenaz rune. ¡°First, we master the light.¡± After that, he brought out a second rune. It was just a single vertical line. ¡°Then the chill, isaz. Only once we¡¯ve mastered both are we allowed to even look at a sowilo rune.¡± He finished by adding a warmth rune to the table. All three discs were small, not much larger than twice the size of a silver coin. ¡°That sounds horribly inefficient,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Never seen an isaz rune before.¡± ¡°They¡¯re uncommon here where we have such long winters and cool summers. Farther south, they¡¯re worth a fortune. I¡¯m making plenty and sending them to my father.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Your father?¡± ¡°I told you already, he¡¯s a merchant. I¡¯m only here because he wanted another source of revenue. He¡¯s stockpiling those I send him now so he can sell them once I get my writ.¡± Alvarn sighed. ¡°I¡¯m rather sure he¡¯s already selling some. Not a patient man, my father.¡± ¡°How much can he sell a chill rune for?¡± Two more glasses of beer arrived at their table, along with their food. Alvarn immediately took a long gulp from the beer while Vidar finished his first glass so the barmaid could bring the empty glasses back with her. He let out a small burp and nodded his thanks to the young woman. ¡°We¡¯re getting off track,¡± Alvarn said. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have agreed to teach you anything. You don¡¯t understand the danger despite having almost been killed by your attempts.¡± ¡°You did the right thing in teaching me, even if it was barely enough to get me started. My first attempts at painting a rune on a wall exploded in my face.¡± Alvarn just sighed. ¡°I think I got the lines wrong or something.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not teaching you another thing,¡± Alvarn said. ¡°You¡¯re just going to let me continue with trial and error? What if I get it wrong and one of my students ends up hurt?¡± ¡°Students?¡± Alvarn asked, raising the glass to drink like his life depended on it, his eyes wide and wild. ¡°I¡¯ve been asked to teach.¡± ¡°No,¡± Alvarn said. ¡°I must forbid it.¡± Vidar narrowed his eyes. ¡°Forbid?¡± Alvarn just groaned and finished his second beer. ¡°Maybe you should eat something,¡± Vidar said, nodding to the bowls in front of them. ¡°Maybe I should. You¡¯ll be the death of me, Vidar.¡± ¡°How so?¡± ¡°This will all come back to haunt me one way or the other.¡± Alvarn was not as excited for him as Vidar had hoped, and he wasn¡¯t sure how to deal with the distraught rune scribe. ¡°I might¡¯ve found a new rune,¡± he said, hoping to steer the conversation in a new direction and perhaps cheer up his new friend. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°There was this padlock. When I tried smashing it to get through a door, something resisted my shovel.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what a lock is supposed to do. So, you¡¯re a thief, then?¡± ¡°No. Well, yes, but no. Sort of, but not anymore. In this case, I was just curious and cold. The thing is, my shovel stopped before it hit metal. It was almost like a shield, you know?¡± Alvarn actually shoveled a couple of potatoes covered in a brown gravy into his mouth and spoke around it. ¡°What does the symbol look like?¡± A glint of excitement appeared, but it fell when Vidar continued. ¡°The whole padlock¡ªI did get it open after a few more smashes¡ªwas covered in rust, so I don¡¯t know.¡± When he saw Alvarn¡¯s expression, he added, ¡°I don¡¯t know yet. I¡¯m working on getting the rust off.¡± ¡°It would be the discovery of a lifetime,¡± Alvarn said skeptically. ¡°You said it yourself. There has to be more runes out there.¡± ¡°Where did you find this lock?¡± Vidar cleared his throat and looked away from Alvarn¡¯s intense gaze. ¡°A church.¡± Alvarn groaned again and hung his head. Then he remembered something and looked back up. ¡°Speaking of long-forgotten runes. The sewers!¡± ¡°What about them?¡± Vidar asked, taking another sip of beer. It flowed down his throat and settled in his stomach pleasantly. ¡°You have to take me down there.¡± Vidar glanced up and down Alvarn¡¯s bulk. He wasn¡¯t very fat per se, but there was considerable bulk to him. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you¡¯ll fit. Actually, I am sure. You won¡¯t. The entrances are narrow, almost absurdly so.¡± He gulped down some stew and swallowed. ¡°Why do you want to go down there, anyway?¡± Alvarn grinned. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes looked a little tired, like the beer was getting to him. ¡°I know of a bigger entrance. There are a few, by the water intakes.¡± ¡°Really? How do you know that?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been researching them for quite some time. Just recently, I got to speak to the ones in charge of administrating the place. They wouldn¡¯t lend me a key, however.¡± Vidar fished his key out of the pocket in his coat. ¡°This key?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go together. Today,¡± Alvarn said. ¡°And I¡¯ll show you runes lost to time.¡± Excitement spread like wildfire through Vidar¡¯s gut, and he fueled it further with several deep pulls from his glass of beer. ¡°I¡¯d love nothing more. You said we¡¯d find these where the water enters the tunnels?¡± His answer made Alvarn¡¯s already flushed face turn even redder from excitement, and he leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows. ¡°That¡¯s right! The water is somehow losing its salt content. Runes must be involved somehow!¡± Vidar pursed his lips and sat back. ¡°If these secrets are so readily available, how come no one¡¯s discovered them before?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure they have,¡± Alvarn scoffed. ¡°Everything is buried and secreted away. When those who made the discovery are long dead, the knowledge fades. Soon enough, even the paper carrying the secrets turns to ash.¡± ¡°The library fire.¡± Alvarn nodded and suddenly stood, the back of his knees pushing back the heavy wooden chair so it screeched against the floor. ¡°That¡¯s right. Fires, multiple. Mishandling of sowilo runes several times. Let¡¯s go!¡± ¡°Right now?¡± Vidar asked, shoveling the last of the food into his mouth and draining his glass. He burped and wiped at his mouth with his coat sleeve, then hurried after Alvarn, who was already at the bar, paying for their meal. ¡°I wondered if the front of the warmth rune could get hot enough to start a fire. Almost burned myself once.¡± Alvarn blinked, and his shoulders fell forward. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t bring you into this. You¡¯re far too inexperienced.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± ¡°You really are,¡± Alvarn insisted. ¡°Yes, you can easily start a fire with the front of a sowilo rune. It is one of its main purposes. It can even get hot enough to melt metal. Some blacksmiths use runes for their forge, rather than coals.¡± ¡°I might not know a lot about the uses of different runes yet,¡± Vidar said, following the larger man out into the cold darkness of the street, ¡°but I know a lot more than you about the sewers. You need me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Alvarn allowed. ¡°Together, then?¡± ¡°Together,¡± Vidar said, holding out his hand. They shook. Alvarn showed the way. ¡°I think I mentioned it to you before, but I asked to be sent specifically to Halmstadt because of the sewers and the secrets they might hold. What is gold and silver when put next to discovery and unraveling of ancient things?¡± ¡°I¡¯d take gold and silver,¡± Vidar muttered, reaching in to trigger the sowilo rune in the front pocket of his shirt. Warmth spread across his chest, combating the worst of the cold. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure, my friend,¡± Alvarn said. ¡°I see the glint in your eye.¡± ¡°That just means I¡¯m not hungry right now. When you need coin to eat, everything else matters little.¡± He felt somewhat of a fraud speaking the words, having been on his own for such a short period of time, but the sentiment still rang true to his own ears. Vidar knew hunger, and he knew cold. Cold, he knew better than most. Alvarn got a searching look on his face as he continued, ¡°Of course. I didn¡¯t mean to imply¡­ Anyway¡­ discovering new runes is one part of what we¡¯re doing today. The other is examining how the seawater is cleaned, the mechanism behind it. Many of the intakes are damaged, and the Crown cares not. Seawater flows freely through many parts of the system. Undrinkable seawater.¡± ¡°Ah, I understand,¡± Vidar said. ¡°You¡¯ll find out how to repair it, then force the Crown to pay you enough coin to live out the rest of your life in a palace somewhere. Clever.¡± ¡°What? No! I intend to repair the system, to provide drinkable water to everyone, and then bring that same system everywhere in Sveland and beyond. The lack of drinkable water is a scourge upon this land.¡± ¡°Our hero,¡± Vidar said, deadpan. Alvarn blushed furiously. ¡°Good thing you met me, then,¡± Vidar continued. ¡°My hero,¡± Alvarn teased back, adjusting his glasses. ¡°I¡¯ve been in contact with some less savory types, trying to get my hands on other means of getting in.¡± ¡°Lockpicks?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°And explosives. There are options.¡± ¡°Sowilo rune?¡± Alvarn stopped, closed his eyes, and looked up into the air with a heavy sigh. ¡°Didn¡¯t think of that. Why didn¡¯t I think of that?¡± A moment later, he shook his head. ¡°No, it wouldn¡¯t work.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°The metal. It¡¯s too thick. The length of your key proves it. With the lock that deep into the metal, it would require far more essence than what any one man is able to provide.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Vidar said, wrinkling his nose at the smell carried toward them on the wind. They were nearing the sea, and the acrid scent of brine, decaying fish, and sulfur momentarily made his eyes water. A lifetime of living by the sea still hadn¡¯t made him used to the smell, not with both his family home and Andersburg being relatively sheltered from the worst of it due to Halmstadt¡¯s elevation changes. ¡°Really makes you feel alive, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Alvarn asked as he drew in a deep breath through his nose. Vidar made a gagging sound to show what he thought of that sentiment. ¡°Where are these doors, anyway?¡± They were headed toward the sea in a straight line. If they didn¡¯t deviate, they¡¯d end up right in the middle of the harbor. Heavy carts were pulled up the incline of the street, wares heading into town from the large shipping vessels currently docked. Loud curses were flung back and forth by sailors straining under the physical labor. Vidar made out a few Dennerish ones, but several other languages were represented, all of them mixing together into an incomprehensible mess. Alvarn nodded to the right, and they headed to a narrow street running parallel with the main thoroughfare. ¡°Isn¡¯t there a better way to get their imports into town?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Looks mightily strenuous.¡± ¡°My father uses oxen for carrying supplies and dragging carts inland, but they¡¯re banned in all major cities of Sveland.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Their, uh, droppings. They are not clean animals.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Vidar thought for a moment. ¡°Can you ride one?¡± ¡°You want to ride an ox?¡± ¡°No, but could you?¡± Alvarn looked at Vidar, then turned his gaze back to the sea. ¡°I doubt the ox would appreciate it. In the desert, people ride camels quite a bit, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯d survive in our colder climate.¡± ¡°So we don¡¯t get anything to ride?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound fair.¡± ¡°If you have the coin for it, people will happily pull you around in a wagon.¡± ¡°Happily?¡± Alvarn shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s one way to make a living.¡± They were near enough to the sea now to hear the waves. Seagulls filled the air, and their screeching made Vidar want to claw his ears out. ¡°I hate the sea,¡± he muttered, following as Alvarn turned down another street, then another. The street ended with only open sea before them. The cobblestones turned to a wooden jetty running along the edge in both directions. Quite a bit of open air separated them from the water. The drop made Vidar¡¯s knees weak, and he didn¡¯t dare walk all the way to the edge. Someone should¡¯ve installed a railing or something. He wondered how many people fell into the sea from spots such as this every year. Quite a few, he guessed. The wind pushed them both back when at the top of its strength. It carried a terrible chill. ¡°It¡¯s down there,¡± Alvarn said, pointing down. Vidar got down to one knee and leaned in close, trying to see through the tiny gaps between planks. There was quite the drop. Wooden poles jutted out from the ground below to support the jetty. ¡°You must be joking.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a ladder nearby.¡± A wave crashed in against land far below, swelling high enough to reach halfway up to the supporting beams. ¡°We¡¯ll drown!¡± Alvarn waved for him to follow. ¡°No, we won¡¯t.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t have the guts, lend me the key and I¡¯ll go.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll never give this key to anyone. Ever,¡± Vidar said, following along the edge to what looked like a half-collapsed, deserted building right next to the jetty. They pushed inside through a heavy-looking but unlocked metal door. ¡°Spent a lot of time lockpicking this one,¡± Alvarn said. Vidar peered up. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you go through the hole in the wall?¡± ¡°It¡¯s on the second floor and I don¡¯t know how to fly.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± Broken bits of furniture and stone and wood from the ceiling and walls, among other debris, were strewn about everywhere. No, not everywhere. One part of the floor was cleared of rubble. Part of the wooden hatch still remained, but it was obvious even to Vidar that it¡¯d been hacked to pieces. ¡°Axes are more pricey than you¡¯d think. Took me a whole day to get through,¡± Alvarn said, massaging his shoulder as if remembering the strenuous work. The inlaid lock was thrown to the side, still stuck in the wood. Vidar tested his key, but it did not fit. Where the hatch door had been, a mostly empty hole now gaped open. Wind swirled up through it and the metal rungs bolted into the side of the wall beneath them were spotted with ice and covered in rust. ¡°You climbed down this?¡± ¡°I did,¡± Alvarn confirmed. ¡°The ladder is solid, but you have to be careful. It¡¯s slippery in places.¡± Vidar leaned out over the opening, then shuddered and pulled back. ¡°After you.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t fall down on top of me,¡± Alvarn said, pulling on a pair of gloves. ¡°You don¡¯t happen to have another pair of those on you?¡± Vidar asked hopefully. Alvarn got into position on his knees, then let one foot drop down to stand on the top rung. He grinned, a manic glint in his eyes. ¡°Afraid not.¡± With that, he climbed down, disappearing from view. Chapter 21
Vidar followed down the ladder. Each rung was separate and bolted into the side of the wall. They were all rusty and cold enough to make his very soul shiver as he hurriedly made his way down, following in his friend¡¯s footsteps. Wind from the open sea blew at his back, tearing at his coat like it was trying to push him off the ladder. Vidar cursed under his breath but kept going down. Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t too long of a climb, and Alvarn grabbed him at the bottom. Their feet slipped a little on the ice-covered walkway. Here, at least, there was a railing to hold on to. Without it, they¡¯d both be doomed. The sea rose and swelled with what felt like raging intent, like it was trying to rise up far enough to grab hold of Vidar and pull him out into the water and then under before bashing him against the rocky sidewall. So far, it hadn¡¯t touched the walkway, but it was not far off. The crashing sound was deafening, even more so than what¡¯d assaulted his senses down in the sewers once he neared one of those water intakes. Alvarn shouted near Vidar¡¯s ear, pointing to a dark spot farther off before starting the perilous walk to their destination. Vidar didn¡¯t hear a word of what he¡¯d been saying, but he followed nonetheless, wondering why they hadn¡¯t just blown open a regular opening to squeeze Alvarn¡¯s stomach down into the sewers. He knew it wouldn¡¯t have worked, not with how long the climb down was, but still. There had to be a better way of reaching one of these water intakes. With fingers too numb to even feel the cold, Vidar made his way to their right, shuffling sideways while facing the cliff wall. What felt like an eternity later, he bumped into Alvarn. ¡°It¡¯s here!¡± he yelled. Vidar shook his head to bring himself out of the brain fog brought on by the cold. A large door was set right into the wall with perfectly rectangular rocks surrounding it and separating the metal from the dirt, stone, and whatever else the ground was made out of. ¡°Give me the key and I¡¯ll open it!¡± Alvarn shouted. ¡°You¡¯re on the wrong side of me!¡± Vidar violently shook his head. A wave of dizziness hit and he had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to regain his senses. Alvarn leaned out from the wall, putting far too much faith in the railing. ¡°Do you want to pass me, then?¡± Swallowing hard, Vidar peered at the small gap between Alvarn and the wall. He did not want to attempt that. Carefully, ever so carefully, he withdrew the key while clinging desperately to the railing. He handed it to Alvarn, who put it between his teeth while inching closer to the door. It didn¡¯t fit. The key did not go into the hole. They both stared, dumbfounded, for a minute before Vidar realized what was wrong. He screamed with all he was worth to have the words carry in the blasting wind. ¡°SOWILO!¡± Alvarn shook his head, unable to hear despite the relatively short distance between them. Vidar sighed and steadied himself as much as possible on the narrow walkway before releasing one hand. With one finger out, as if using it to write, he made the symbol for the warmth rune in the air between them. Four lines. Alvarn¡¯s eyes widened. He understood. The lock was frozen. Alvarn needed to thaw it. With the key still in his mouth, Alvarn wobbled precariously as he fished through his coat pockets, questing for a sowilo rune. He removed a wooden disc and brought it up to his face before discarding it. On the second attempt, he got the right one, pressing it against the lock. Even from way back where Vidar was hanging on by a thread, he felt the heat rippling through the air. He marveled at the strength of it and at how expertly Alvarn wielded the tool under such dire circumstances. A few seconds was all it took. The incredible heat melted the ice, allowing the key to reach the mechanism embedded deep inside. The howling gale whipping around them obliterated any chance of Vidar hearing the key turn in the lock, but he thought he felt the mechanism thud open through his numb fingers holding on to the thin railing. With no moment to spare, Alvarn threw himself through the door as soon as he managed to push it open, leaving Vidar utterly alone. Then Alvarn leaned out, looking back and waving for Vidar to come along. Each step was agony. The sea rose just barely far enough to cover the walkway in one massive push. Even with toes already beyond frozen, he still felt this new chill grab hold of him. In that moment, he didn¡¯t think it would ever let go. With only a few steps left, Vidar¡¯s leading foot slipped. The imbalance was too much for his other leg to correct, and he went down, painfully striking his knee against the stone. Pain surged up his leg. Vidar wanted to cry. He never should¡¯ve come here. He didn¡¯t need to enter through here. No, he could¡¯ve taken the nearest entrance and met up with Alvarn. It would¡¯ve been so easy. He gritted his teeth. Even if he found a nearby entrance, there was no telling how simple it would be to meet up. Vidar needed to do this, and he needed to do it now. If he lagged for much longer, the sea would end up claiming him. With unintelligible words of encouragement shouted by Alvarn, Vidar got to his feet. For the briefest moment, Vidar was afraid his hands were frozen, stuck to the railing, but he managed to pull them free just enough to move them. His fingers would not straighten. In his inner eye, he imagined someone striking his hand with a hammer, shattering it into a million frozen pieces. Then he was near enough. Alvarn reached out and grabbed him, pulling Vidar back and in before kicking the heavy metal door closed. It shut out the wind. For a moment, silence reigned. ¡°I-I think my fingers are going to f-fall off,¡± Vidar shuddered out once the worst shock had worn off. ¡°I¡¯m going to give us some light. Close your eyes.¡± The brightness was still almost painful through Vidar¡¯s closed eyes, but he welcomed it. They were in a small chamber¡ªmore of a hallway, really¡ªgoing straight from the door outside to a second door a few long strides farther in. The ceiling, walls, and floor were all the same bare, flat rock he was used to in the sewers. Other than a small area around the door they¡¯d just gone through, the place was dry. Heat rose from the floor. Vidar put his face and hands to the warm stone, sighing contentedly before the pain set in. His fingers and ears throbbed and stung to the point of tears. Holding them over an open flame couldn¡¯t be much worse than this. He suppressed a sob and gritted his teeth. ¡°I think I¡¯m dying.¡± ¡°Sorry, should¡¯ve warned you,¡± Alvarn said, placing and triggering a few sowilo runes around them. ¡°The excitement drove me. That, and the beer. Don¡¯t worry, the pain will subside soon, I¡¯m pretty sure.¡± ¡°The water intake is down under the water?¡± Vidar asked, trying to keep his mind off the searing pain. ¡°It is. From what I¡¯ve pieced together, this place is one of three still operational intakes where salt water is made drinkable. The entrance to one of the others is buried under a mountain of rubble and the second I¡¯ve been unable to locate an entrance for.¡± ¡°How have you found all this out? I barely knew these sewers existed until a few days ago.¡± ¡°How did you think water was able to flow into your kitchen?¡± Vidar shrugged the one shoulder not against the floor. ¡°Magic?¡± ¡°Many things throughout the ages have been branded as magic. If it¡¯s too advanced for the common man to understand, they are quick to use that word.¡± ¡°Like the runes,¡± Vidar suggested. ¡°They are no more magic than the sun in the sky. If the mechanisms behind the runes were fully understood, more people would be inclined to learn how to use them, I think.¡± Vidar carefully, and very stiffly, closed and opened his hand. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you wanted that.¡± ¡°Not as it stands today, but the guild¡¯s iron grip would shatter in an instant if the knowledge spread across our country and the rest of the world. Then, people would be able to learn in a safe and controlled manner.¡± He gave a sharp look as he said that last bit, but Vidar chose to ignore it. ¡°By the tone of your voice, that almost sounds like a mission.¡± ¡°This power could help so many if it was not kept by a select few. Your act of rebellion by learning rune craft is almost inspiring, in a twisted and reckless sort of way.¡± Alvarn sighed, then continued. ¡°How are your hands?¡± ¡°Fine, I think,¡± Vidar said, extending his fingers before making a fist again. ¡°My joints are creaking, and it hurts a lot, but I¡¯ll be fine. Let¡¯s continue.¡± The key fit in the lock by the second door as well, but Vidar stopped Alvarn before he got the chance to turn it. ¡°The sound will be even worse than what we experienced out there, once we get close to the intake.¡± ¡°So we will not be able to talk.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Vidar said. ¡°So, before we go in. What are we doing here?¡± Alvarn withdrew a book from an inside pocket in his brown coat. It was wrapped in treated leather to keep the pages dry. He opened it and flipped to a page in the middle. The cramped handwriting was impossible to read at a moment¡¯s notice, but Alvarn pointed to an illustration.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°From what I¡¯ve been able to gather, the intake should look something like this. The still surviving notes are few and unspecified, however, so we can¡¯t be sure.¡± The questioning look from Vidar made Alvarn continue. ¡°We will need to figure out how everything works and find any runes. If I¡¯m right, we will soon discover at least one rune no one has seen in a long, long while. Once we figure out its use, the possibilities could be endless.¡± Excitement bloomed in Vidar¡¯s chest at the thought of discovering lost secrets. His mind immediately went back to the dead beast and its glinting eyes, but a new rune no one else knew about might just be even more valuable. One thing about what Alvarn just said gave him pause, however. ¡°What do you mean, figure out its use? Can¡¯t we just test it?¡± Alvarn¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°No, oh no. Not at all. Everything we know of runes, what little that is, tells us that we join our essence to the symbol and the knowledge. That point is very clear.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡± ¡°If we don¡¯t know what the rune will do, using it will result in unintended consequences.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± Vidar asked. Alvarn shrugged. ¡°Since no runes have been discovered or created in forever, with most rune scribes vehemently pushing the idea that no other runes exist, no one knows for certain. My guess is the rune will either explode in your face or drain all your essence in an instant and kill you.¡± ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is if I didn¡¯t know a sowilo rune would give off warmth when I trigger or rejuvenate it, it wouldn¡¯t work?¡± ¡°That is correct, Vidar. The knowledge must carry through in all steps. Crafting, rejuvenating, and triggering.¡± ¡°Wild,¡± Vidar grunted. He wasn¡¯t fully convinced of the argument, but this was not the time to argue. ¡°Let¡¯s continue.¡± Vidar turned the key, opening the second door. A low rumble rushed up a set of stairs leading into complete darkness. They each held a kenaz rune aloft to give themselves light as they carefully descended. These steps were solid stone in good condition, making the going a breeze. With the sound from below growing with every step, they were soon unable to hear themselves speaking. After five floors without a single exit, they made it to the bottom. Here, in a small room with a single exit, the ground was wet and slippery. The low roof meant Alvarn didn¡¯t clear the ceiling, and quite a bit of hunching over was required for him to exit into the main pathways. Vidar felt strangely at home in the tunnel. Rather than the perilous cliff face or the creepy stairs, this was a place he knew the dangers of. As long as he was careful, nothing here would hurt him. Well, as long as whatever made that grinding noise he¡¯d heard in the darkness a few times didn¡¯t turn out to be some hideous beast, nothing would hurt him. Water rushed past in a powerful stream through the recessed floor in the middle of the tunnel. Here, there was no walkway on the opposite side, just a blank wall. Alvarn took in their surroundings with wide, awed eyes before getting down to one knee, touching the water. The strong current surprised him, and he wobbled a little, almost losing balance, before Vidar grabbed hold of his coat to stabilize his friend. He should¡¯ve given Alvarn some instruction on what to expect down there, Vidar realized. Well, it was too late now. With Vidar¡¯s help, Alvarn reached down again and scooped a handful of water to his mouth, tasting it. Alvarn grinned and nodded. The water was safe to drink. With that confirmation, they headed in the direction of the sea, where they¡¯d find the intake. Judging by the immense sound of crashing water, they were not far from their destination. It didn¡¯t take long before Vidar spotted a change up ahead. The light coming from the kenaz rune bounced off a thousand tiny particles deeper up the tunnel. He narrowed his eyes, not understanding what he was seeing. ¡°What is that?¡± he asked himself. Alvarn looked over Vidar¡¯s shoulder. He mumbled something Vidar couldn¡¯t hear over the sound of water, then he shouted a single word, a question, right by Vidar¡¯s ear. ¡°Rain?¡± ¡°That can¡¯t be right. It doesn¡¯t rain inside,¡± Vidar said, continuing forward. As they drew closer to this new phenomenon, they could both confirm it was, in fact, rain. The sound was distinct, and soon they both felt drops against their cheeks. With their light runes that much closer, there was no denying what was before them. Rain. The tunnel widened, seemingly to catch the falling rain and carry it inland. It was raining, but the sheer amount of rain made it almost akin to a waterfall. Never before in his life had Vidar seen that much rain fall naturally outside. Here, it poured down from a dark hole in the ceiling. A handrail, not unlike the one by the cliffside, appeared by the walkway as it narrowed. Again, they needed to sidestep to continue their path up the tunnel. The shape of the hole above them directed the falling rain away from the walkway. Without that, they¡¯d both get swept away in an instant. Instead, they were merely drenched before they even made it a couple of steps into the area. Seeing past the water was impossible at first, but once Vidar kept going, his rune, now kept in his mouth between his teeth, since there was no way he was only traversing that narrow walkway with a single hand on the railing, showed a solid-looking wall. A dead end. Vidar¡¯s stomach dropped, but he refused to stop. He¡¯d come this far. With wet hair slick against his scalp and his clothes heavy with water, he pushed ahead. The wall was within arm¡¯s reach. Another step, and then he gently pressed his forehead against the solid stone that¡¯d probably stood untouched for generations. He groaned and turned his head to the left. Then he saw it. In his surprise, Vidar almost slipped off the wet stone. He turned and pointed to Alvarn, whose face looked like a sad puppy¡¯s. Life returned to his eyes as he, too, spotted it. A path forward. The walkway continued along the wall in front of them. At the other side of the tunnel, darkness gaped from an empty space. Careful not to slip, Vidar made his way and confirmed his first instinct. It was the way forward. Darkness gave way to a short tunnel under the light of the kenaz rune. Once Alvarn caught up, they kept going together. The tunnel was short and twisty, forcing them to turn again and again, almost after every step. It didn¡¯t take long for the crashing sound of the rain to lessen. By the time they exited the tunnel, they were able to speak without raising their voices. ¡°Where was that rain coming from?¡± Vidar asked. Alvarn hurried forward and stepped up on a raised platform to peer out through an opening in the wall. ¡°From here,¡± he said, pointing at something beyond. Approaching, Vidar saw a glass window in the opening of the stone wall. He peered out and down, unable to understand what he was seeing at first through the blurred condensation on the glass. Kenaz runes were affixed in the ceiling, showering light over a basin of clear water, filling the entire chamber beneath them. At first, he thought it was running water, like a river, but the bubbling and roiling painted another picture, along with the steam rising above the surface. Beneath the surface, painted on the stone floor of the basin, was the largest sowilo rune he¡¯d ever seen. It covered the entirety of the floor and was warm enough to set all the cold seawater in the basin boiling. ¡°Is it¡­ boiling?¡± ¡°It is,¡± Alvarn confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s set to boiling and then the vapors rise up into the ceiling. My guess is there are isaz runes up there somewhere, cooling the water again to make it rain down past the wall, like we saw.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it? You brought me all this way for a sowilo rune and chill runes we can¡¯t even see?¡± Alvarn jumped down from the raised platform. ¡°Not quite. Don¡¯t you see what¡¯s interesting about the sowilo rune down there?¡± Looking back down through the window, Vidar scratched at his chin, thinking. His eyes widened, and he turned back to his friend. ¡°How is it still active?¡± ¡°Exactly right.¡± Vidar sped past his friend to peer out the second window. This one wasn¡¯t misted over with condensation, making it much easier to see past the glass. Unfortunately, there wasn¡¯t much to actually see. Below him, dirty seawater rushed about, coming in from the left to swirl in a circular pattern before going past three stone pillars sticking out over the surface. To the right was another stone wall. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here,¡± Vidar said. Alvarn was already by the third and final window. ¡°Come here, then. This is interesting.¡± ¡°It spins,¡± Vidar said, having approached. It was a wooden structure in the middle of a basin. Water rushed in from the left, presumably from the sea, and then struck the structure, making it spin in place. He narrowed his eyes. ¡°I think there are symbols on the wood, but I can¡¯t make them out.¡± ¡°The seawater enters through here,¡± Alvarn said, pointing to the left. ¡°This thing in front of us rotates.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Alvarn pursed his lips. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how it works, but I think it¡¯s what powers the runes. What else could rejuvenate them for hundreds of years?¡± ¡°The wood should not be able to withstand all that pressure, not for this long.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Alvarn agreed. ¡°We need to get a closer look.¡± ¡°Easier said than done.¡± Alvarn peered out through the second window. ¡°Vidar! There¡¯s not nothing here. Look at the water!¡± ¡°What about it?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Once it¡¯s pushed past that spinning thing, it comes into the second chamber. When the water reaches the front of the pillars, it¡¯s violently pushed away from them, don¡¯t you see?¡± Vidar peered down. Just as Alvarn said, the water did look like it was being pushed by something. ¡°Another rune?¡± Alvarn brought out a notebook and scribbled furiously. ¡°I think it¡¯s pushed through something in the wall here,¡± he said, pointing to the wall to the right of the second chamber. ¡°Perhaps it does something to the water, perhaps not. Then it reaches the third chamber with the sowilo rune, where the water boils and turns into rain.¡± ¡°I guess so,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? It¡¯s genius.¡± ¡°You could just boil a pot of water on your stove at home.¡± Alvarn put his notebook back and looked up. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but then everyone would have to do so for every pot of water. This way, the whole city is provided for. Also, I¡¯m not sure just boiling it is enough. There¡¯s something at play with the water flowing through the wall as well. Like a sieve, perhaps.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying it¡¯s cleaned before going into the boiling water?¡± ¡°At least partially,¡± Alvarn said. He grunted. ¡°Wish I could take apart this entire thing and examine it.¡± ¡°I just want the runes,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Yes. We cannot leave without them.¡± ¡°Any ideas?¡± Vidar asked. Alvarn pulled out a rope from his bag. ¡°You fit through those windows, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°You must be joking.¡± He took a step closer, hoisting the rope. ¡°The glass must be sturdy to have survived this long, but I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be able to break them.¡± ¡°The spinning thing would thump me to death in an instant.¡± Alvarn laughed. ¡°You thought I meant you jumping down into the water? No, no.¡± ¡°What, then?¡± ¡°You lean out to get a closer look. From what I can tell, the symbol is etched into every plank. If you focus on a specific point in the air, you should be able to make it out.¡± Something had nagged at Vidar since he saw the water flowing from the stone pillars, and the idea finally shook loose just then. ¡°The rain,¡± he muttered. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Alvarn asked, lowering the rope. ¡°The rain has no business making the water flow that fast.¡± Vidar was at the wall separating the sowilo rune from the rain. ¡°Over there, I mean.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. That means it has to be a?¡ª¡± ¡°One of those pushing runes, or many of them,¡± Vidar finished Alvarn¡¯s point. ¡°Tie that rope around me. I¡¯m getting a closer look!¡± With that security measure in place, they traced their steps back through the short tunnel and back to the rain. Just like he¡¯d thought, the water flowed away much too fast. On closer inspection, and them now knowing what to look for, it was obvious. There were runes at work here. ¡°Hold me tight,¡± Vidar said, getting down to his knees. He ignored the water soaking through his pants and braced himself against the walkway as he leaned forward and down. Then he stopped and chuckled to himself as he repositioned a little to the right. Leaning down right into the current might¡¯ve not have been the best idea. From the side, he clearly saw a rune beneath the surface, but the extreme downpour of rain and the moving current proved too much of a hindrance to get a clear view. To combat this, he held on to his nose and moved forward a little more before dropping his head down and into the water. There it was. Clear as day. Then Vidar slid forward and fell in. Chapter 22
One hand remained above the surface of the thankfully not too deep rain basin of water. The runes in the wall pushed outward with frightening force, threatening to cast him into the man-made river. If not for Alvarn and his rope, that¡¯s exactly how the next few seconds would have elapsed. Instead, Vidar spun around himself at an angle where the water stream struck his body. The change in position made it impossible to keep hold of the slippery stone floor, and he went under screaming. Submerged in freezing water, the shock of it all made it difficult to keep his mind clear enough to think. Only when his feet touched stone beneath him did he figure up from down. Vidar pushed for all he was worth, barreling to the surface. He emerged with a gasp, desperately clawing the stone for some little protrusion that¡¯d hold him. Pain flashed from the tip of his finger, but he didn¡¯t care. If he went under again, he would not have the strength to haul himself back up. With Alvarn pulling on the rope for all he was worth, Vidar managed to get a foot up onto the walkway. It was enough. Rolling up and out of the water, he gasped and coughed before puking water everywhere. Huddled into a ball of trembling limbs, he muttered, ¡°I got it.¡± ¡°What?¡± Alvarn shouted, right near his head. Vidar turned to his back, so he looked up at Alvarn¡¯s concerned face. ¡°I saw it! The rune!¡± Together, they got Vidar to his feet and back into the viewing chamber where they could speak. Alvarn held out his notebook. ¡°Sketch it for me.¡± Vidar accepted the book and the pen, but his fingers trembled too much. The tips of several of his fingers, where the fingernails were ripped away from trying to grasp the stone walkway, bled onto the pages of the notebook. He had to return them without being able to put down a single line. ¡°Later,¡± Vidar said through chattering teeth. Alvarn¡¯s eyes almost seemed to glow from the barely restrained need to know, to learn. Vidar recognized the feeling and raised a finger in the air to sketch the simple symbol. ¡°It looks like the M character,¡± Alvarn said, scribbling in his notebook. He held it up for inspection. ¡°Like this?¡± ¡°Yes, except more pressed together, thinner. And the angles are tighter too.¡± Alvarn made a second attempt and Vidar nodded tiredly. ¡°Near enough.¡± While Alvarn excitedly wrote in his little book, Vidar leaned forward and drew on the ground. In his dazed, exhausted, and thoroughly cold and miserable state, the act of using his own blood to make a symbol didn¡¯t register as a poor idea. With fingers too numb from the cold to feel any real pain, he created the symbol he¡¯d seen, or a close enough approximation of it. After almost forgetting to encircle the symbol, and then correcting his mistake, Vidar closed his eyes and saw the circle in his mind. Very little essence remained for him to use in that condition, but he willed some into the circle, imagining the symbol in the middle and what function that symbol represented. To push. ¡°Vidar! What are you doing?¡± Alvarn shouted, but it was too late. Vidar triggered the rune. Not having had the foresight of removing his head from above the rune, it pushed on him with enough force to throw his head back, unbalancing Vidar so he fell back and thudded the back of his head painfully against the floor. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Alvarn shouted. ¡°Do you know how dangerous that was?¡± Vidar sat, rubbing at the back of his head. He turned and looked up at his friend, not saying anything. ¡°What?¡± Alvarn asked. Still, Vidar said nothing. Alvarn¡¯s gaze shifted to the rune on the floor. Vidar did the same. They both stared at it for a good long while until Alvarn broke the silence. ¡°A new rune.¡± ¡°A new rune,¡± Vidar agreed. A moment later, he spoke again. ¡°The naming rights are mine.¡± ¡°It already has a name.¡± ¡°What is it, then?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°How should I know?¡± ¡°New discovery, new name.¡± Alvarn held up his pen to his once again open notebook. ¡°What¡¯ll you name it, then?¡± ¡°Pushy?¡± A dead-eyed glare was all the response he got for that suggestion, so Vidar tried again. ¡°Thrust?¡± ¡°Better, but not good enough. We have kenaz, sowilo, and isaz. Adding ¡®thrust¡¯ to those sounds wrong to my ears.¡± Vidar considered for a moment, then relented. ¡°You¡¯re right, it doesn¡¯t sound right. I have a friend who is good with old languages and things like that. He¡¯s a little crazy, but I¡¯ll ask him.¡± ¡°You let me know,¡± Alvarn said. Vidar laboriously got to his feet. ¡°Are you going to try?¡± ¡°No, not here. Later.¡± Even through the bone-chilling cold and his daze, Vidar couldn¡¯t help but consider applications where this new rune might be useful. None jumped up at him in that moment, but he did not let that discourage him. Vidar was certain this new discovery would lead to riches beyond his wildest dreams. The rune scribes¡¯ guild would not be able to touch him. Neither would the city guards, those assholes. Perhaps the long arm of the Crown would prove too short to reach him once he¡¯d established himself. He just had to be careful and plan for the best way of revealing this knowledge without anyone stealing it. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. For a brief second, he glanced suspiciously at Alvarn. With this, his new friend would be his competition. ¡°You won¡¯t give this to the guild, will you?¡± Alvarn looked up from his notebook. ¡°What¡¯s that? No, of course not! The knowledge of this must be shared, of course, for the betterment of everyone. The guild would hoard the information and use it to further their own agenda. We cannot let that happen.¡± ¡°Right.¡± A moment¡¯s rest later, Vidar reached out a hand to Alvarn. ¡°Give me a few warmth runes and let¡¯s get that second one so we can get out of here.¡± That earned him a skeptical look. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think I can do it?¡± Alvarn held out a hand and pulled Vidar to his feet. ¡°I¡¯m just worried about you. You¡¯re shivering and bleeding. Could be you¡¯re going into a state of hypothermia?¡± ¡°Hypo-what?¡± ¡°You need to rest.¡± Vidar disagreed. ¡°What I need is to never return here. Now, how are we breaking that glass?¡± A moment of searching through his bag later, Alvarn withdrew a hammer. ¡°Give me that,¡± Vidar said, grabbing the heavy tool. ¡°Thought of everything, did you?¡± ¡°I like to be prepared.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with, then. Whatever rune it is, it will be ours. Just you wait, and hold on tight to that rope, you hear?¡± Alvarn picked it up and followed Vidar to the window with the spinning structure. To Vidar¡¯s surprise, the glass broke easily. With it broken, the sound of the sea overwhelmed the small chamber. With all the glass gone, Vidar dropped the hammer and clambered into the tight space to sit facing Alvarn. This way, he could lean back and out while holding on to the wall. It didn¡¯t take long for him to understand that his friend¡¯s concern for his health might not have been entirely unfounded. His arms trembled and very little strength remained in his hands. ¡°Hold on tight!¡± he screamed. If he lost his grip, Alvarn was all that held him back from being squashed like a bug by the spinning wood construct of death. Water churned around it, coming in from the sea to push the stupid thing. Finding the rune was trivially easy, but there was a hitch. ¡°I can¡¯t see it clearly from here either!¡± ¡°What?¡± Alvarn shouted. He hadn¡¯t been able to hear. Vidar struggled back through the window and shouted right near Alvarn¡¯s ear. ¡°I can¡¯t get close enough to see without risking my head! The water spray and all that spinning make it impossible!¡± ¡°We need that rune!¡± Vidar agreed. He looked around for something to throw against the spinning structure but found nothing big enough. The rope might work, but it could just as easily snap under the force. ¡°The thrust rune,¡± he said, pointing to the wall near the window. ¡°Far enough down and pointing to the spinning thing!¡± Alvarn sounded shocked. ¡°That¡¯ll break it!¡± ¡°A few planks, yes. That¡¯ll make it stop. Hopefully!¡± ¡°You want to break one of the few remaining sources of fresh water? No!¡± ¡°Got any better suggestions?¡± Vidar saw it in his friend¡¯s face that he didn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯ll help you repair the other ones!¡± Eventually, Alvarn relented, and Vidar climbed back up into the window overlooking the seawater intake. He turned back and shouted, ¡°Is there some way to choose where essence is being drained from when I craft a rune and rejuvenate it?¡± Alvarn shook his head. He¡¯d just have to do this the hard way, then. Armed with a brush from Alvarn¡¯s pack, loaded with heavy red paint, he leaned out the window and reached down as far as he was able to paint the thrust rune. If he¡¯d eyed the position right, this should work. With how fast the planks were spinning, they were bound to hit at least one or two. That should be enough. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Alvarn shouted when Vidar climbed back in through the window, still holding the brush and dragging it across the stone. He leaned back out to finish the other line before connecting them together on the inside wall where his friend waited. ¡°You do the honors!¡± Alvarn, confused, leaned out the window and peered down. ¡°The circle reaches all the way down and around the symbol?¡± ¡°It does!¡± Instead of finishing the work, Alvarn brought out his notebook and began scribbling in it. ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know this was a possibility!¡± He pointed to the not-very-round barrier around the symbol. ¡°Well, I suppose I did know about it, but never thought to use it in this way! All we learn is that you should keep the barrier line near the symbol to create the most efficient rune each time!¡± ¡°You can be efficient in your own time! Now power the rune and trigger it!¡± Alvarn touched the inside of what was supposedly named the barrier line. He closed his eyes and whispered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± A loud thud sounded from the other chamber, followed by a crashing noise and the very distinct breaking of wood. They¡¯d done it! Both of them cheered, their hands up in the air. Then Vidar calmed down. ¡°Not durability runes, then. It stopped in a good place. I can see the symbol.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t do us any good if we don¡¯t figure out its use.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out,¡± Vidar said, studying the rune. Coming back in through the window, Vidar made his report. ¡°It looks a lot like the other one we found.¡± Grabbing Alvarn¡¯s notebook, he printed the lines with trembling fingers. ¡°Like this, only the shorter lines go all the way to the longer ones, like a cross,¡± he said, holding his fingers out in an X symbol. ¡°I see,¡± Alvarn said, his nose near the page to see through the droplets of water on the glass of his thick glasses. ¡°I wonder if they are related somehow.¡± Alvarn peered up at Vidar. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°They¡¯re similar, no? Perhaps their function is similar, too. One thrusts, perhaps this one pulls. Want to try?¡± ¡°No!¡± Alvarn said, more than a hint of fear in his voice. ¡°We don¡¯t try until we know its function. It could kill us both. Producing a pulling effect seems unlikely to me, considering the placements on the runes down in the basin. Give me some time to think on it and I¡¯m hopeful I¡¯ll be able to come up with a likely effect. Tomorrow, a lot of people are going to wake up to saltwater in their houses. Us breaking this cannot be for nothing, or I would not be able to live with myself.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Vidar grumbled. ¡°I won¡¯t try the rune.¡± They stood, looking around the chamber for a little while longer. ¡°So,¡± Vidar began. Alvarn finished his thought. ¡°Want to head back up?¡± It must¡¯ve been getting late up there on the surface. He needed some sleep so he could wake up well rested and ready to teach those people in the thieves¡¯ guild. ¡°I really do.¡± Tired beyond words, with arms and legs feeling leaden, Vidar stumbled into his room. He used what little essence remained in him to power a warmth rune before hanging his sodden clothes from a clothesline. Barely able to make it the few steps to his bed, he collapsed into it and pulled the meager covers over his shivering self. Despite his exhaustion, sleep was long in the coming. He couldn¡¯t stop thinking of their discoveries down in those dank chambers. Two new runes, one of which they could use. This would make him rich and famous, he knew it would. Fame didn¡¯t matter all that much to him, but riches? Without money, you were no one. With it, you could be whoever you wanted. Chapter 23
The next morning was dreadful. With clothes still sodden from the night before, Vidar shuddered as he hurried down the streets to find the chapter house of the thieves¡¯ guild. The sowilo runes in his pockets eased the worst of it, but the cold was getting on his nerves at this point. Tonight, he decided, he¡¯d create more of them and line his coat, shoes, and even a hat, if he could find one. Warmth. He¡¯d do anything for warmth. Yallander waited outside the building, a torch hoisted above his head as he peered through the dark of the morning. ¡°Vidar!¡± he yelled. ¡°Our teacher arrives!¡± This time, the brown-robed man gave off an air of friendliness right away. ¡°Yallander,¡± Vidar said in greeting. ¡°We have you situated in a nearby building. There is no stove for heating, but we thought you and your new students could take care of that yourselves?¡± He tried wrapping his arms around Vidar to steer him, but Vidar stepped away. ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Yallander asked. ¡°Payment.¡± He raised an eyebrow, the cheery facade dropping for the briefest of moments before he restored it. ¡°Of course I haven¡¯t forgotten. Services rendered to us are generally paid out weekly.¡± ¡°I need the silver now,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got someone else to teach you since last we met?¡± It was true too. The coins he did have wouldn¡¯t last long, definitely not a week. Thieves¡¯ guild or no, they needed him more than he needed them. That fact would remain, at least until some students showed enough aptitude to take over, at least. After that, things might get a little tense, but that was a problem for later. Still, he could be tactful when necessary. He straightened his back and tried to pull back his sour expression into something resembling a polite smile. ¡°At least in the beginning, I¡¯d like to be paid daily.¡± Yallander waved it away. ¡°Of course, of course. For you, Vidar, we¡¯ll be able to stretch the rules a little. Just do your best in teaching your eager students.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Vidar agreed, holding out his hand. Yallander looked at it a moment, then sighed, rummaging through one of the large pockets of his brown robe. ¡°Twelve, was it?¡± ¡°Fifteen.¡± Coins fell into Vidar¡¯s palm. He inspected them before squirreling the wealth into an inner pocket. ¡°Let¡¯s go meet these bright students,¡± Vidar said. The house was decrepit. Heavy snow threatened to make the roof fall in, and the wooden walls looked thin and worn. Several of the glass windows were broken, with bits of wood covering the holes. Even the stone steps up to the door crumbled under Vidar¡¯s feet. He turned back to look down at Yallander, who waited at the bottom of the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re not coming in?¡± ¡°No. They are waiting for you inside. Please give them your full attention until sunup.¡± Vidar looked from the door to Yallander, then nodded. ¡°Rune craft has some inherent dangers to it, I¡¯ve been told. Can you promise you won¡¯t hurt me if the students¡­¡± He paused for a moment, looking for the right way to put it. ¡°¡­ fail?¡± Yallander grinned. It looked evil in the darkness, his face only lit by the torch in his hand. ¡°The individuals are of no concern to the thieves¡¯ guild. If they don¡¯t work out, we have more eager students to take their place. We ask that you push them hard. If they fail, and if it comes to it, someone will come collect their remains after class is concluded that day.¡± He turned and walked away without another word. Vidar shivered and turned back to the door. A ruthless man, that. Best not get on his bad side if he could avoid it. A scuffle sounded from inside the small house, so Vidar pushed in through the door. Once, there¡¯d been a kitchen near the entrance, but that was demolished beyond repair. The rest of the house was just one big, empty room without a single piece of furniture. A single lantern flickered in the middle of the room and all but one of the students huddled around it for some semblance of warmth. The last one stood in a dark corner, leaning against the wall where Vidar couldn¡¯t make out his features. There was no sign of what¡¯d made the scuffling sound. He cleared his throat and all those seated got to their feet and turned in his direction, like they¡¯d been waiting for quite some time. ¡°You the students?¡± Vidar asked. A murmur of agreement rose to the surprisingly tall ceiling. Seven students stood arrayed before him. Not the best and brightest, he decided. Three of the seven were missing a hand, all of them younger than himself. Two wore the years like ancient beggars, their faces a mess of wrinkles and liver spots. One of the remaining two was a sullen, feminine-looking young man a few years younger than himself, who stood with his cap pulled forward hiding much of his face. The last man up front appeared reasonably normal. He wore worker¡¯s clothes and was in his middle years, still without gray in his beard. Then the man from the shadows sauntered up to stand next to Vidar. ¡°Lytir? What¡¯re you doing here?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°You¡¯re not here to learn about runes, I¡¯m guessing?¡± The vagrant bowed and lifted a nonexistent hat in greeting. ¡°Little scribe. You should not burn your time with frivolities, not when the hour approaches.¡± ¡°He¡¯s crazy, that one,¡± one of the young men with a missing hand said. One of the old men cackled with laughter. ¡°Crazy!¡± Vidar ignored them both. ¡°Most of us have to work for our bread, Lytir.¡± ¡°My position requires keeping a constant guard,¡± Lytir said, a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. ¡°Your health is of great concern.¡± ¡°My health?¡± ¡°Do not enter your home once darkness falls this night. The thief cries out for help and the one who does not speak beseeches. A friend helps a friend, but you must not return. Do not let them keep you. Do you understand, little scribe?¡± ¡°Look, I wanted to talk to you about something,¡± Vidar said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, ignoring the mad ramblings. ¡°Do you recognize this symbol?¡± The paper, a cheap, thin thing, crackled as he unfolded it to show the thrust rune they¡¯d discovered the day before. Lytir took the parchment straight out of Vidar¡¯s hands, accidentally ripping half of it. ¡°Look at this, I call this progress,¡± he said, jumping up into the air with both feet to land in a bowed position, handing it back. ¡°Dare we hope, us fallen? Perhaps we shall reach a peace. A small hope, but a flame always starts small, does it not? We are far too late to prevent, too late by far, but perhaps we may yet still see a way through.¡± ¡°Have you seen it before?¡± Vidar repeated. Lytir thrust his left palm forward, bending his front knee into a strange sort of blow that stopped mere inches from Vidar¡¯s face. Displaced air wafted against Vidar¡¯s skin. ¡°To thrust!¡± Vidar nodded eagerly. ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± ¡°STAKRA!¡± Lytir yelled, thrusting his other palm forward, this time up into the air. ¡°Stakra?¡± Vidar asked. Lytir¡¯s eyes widened, and he charged to the door to fling it open. ¡°I must prepare!¡± With that, the crazy bastard was gone. ¡°Stakra,¡± Vidar said to himself. ¡°Stakra it is, then.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t trust that crazy bastard,¡± someone said, prompting Vidar to turn back to face the students. He ignored the comment. ¡°Do we have any materials to work with?¡± Vidar asked. Several hands and a few stumps pointed to a corner where Vidar did find supplies. Paper and pieces of charcoal, along with pens and ink. This would work just fine, he figured. ¡°Let¡¯s get started. We¡¯ll do introductions tomorrow with those of you who are still alive.¡± He¡¯d intended it as a joke, but no one so much as chuckled. Surly bastards. Vidar looked around the poorly lit room and saw fearful expressions on most faces. No wonder they hadn¡¯t laughed. He was about to tell them no one would die but stopped himself. Like he¡¯d told Yallander, this wasn¡¯t safe. Alvarn impressed that much on him, at least. Instead, he penned a kenaz rune on one paper. After examining his work and deciding the lines were correct enough to be useful, he affixed the rune to the wall. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Kenaz,¡± he said. ¡°Light.¡± Vidar touched the circled symbol and fed essence into it before triggering the rune. Everyone blinked and held up arms to shield themselves from the sudden burst of light. He swore, narrowing the opening. There. Light enough to see and paint, but not enough to blind them. They all stared in disbelief. ¡°Magic,¡± someone muttered. ¡°There is no such thing as magic,¡± Vidar said, raising a finger. ¡°This is rune craft. It is what I will be teaching you all starting today.¡± ¡°What if we don¡¯t want to?¡± the old geezer who hadn¡¯t laughed before said. Vidar frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Take it up with Yallander.¡± The old man paled but made no reply, so Vidar continued, painting a sowilo rune in ink on a second paper. ¡°Sowilo. Heat,¡± he said, moving the lantern to set the heat rune in the middle of the floor. Sowilo runes required a lot of essence, but he didn¡¯t want to teach in the cold. Several hours remained until the sun rose and he didn¡¯t mean for all of them to freeze to death before then. Heat rose from the floor and Vidar stood and held out his right arm over the heat, marveling at how far he¡¯d come in just a few short days. The others gathered around him, letting out small sounds of amazement and appreciation. ¡°You¡¯re going to teach us that?¡± the feminine young man said, his voice just as girly as his appearance. Vidar narrowed his eyes, wondering if it, in fact, was a girl hidden under those baggy clothes and under all that hair. ¡°No, not today. First, you learn the light rune. We¡¯ll see how that goes before we try anything more difficult.¡± He handed out paper and thin sticks of charcoal to everyone before ordering them to sit. With the kenaz rune shining brightly on the wall, the lines were easy enough to see. ¡°Draw that,¡± he said, pointing to the rune. ¡°Make the lines as precise as you can and make them small so you don¡¯t use up the entire paper right away.¡± One of the three students missing a hand raised the one still attached. Vidar sighed inwardly and walked over. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t write, can I?¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t writing. It¡¯s drawing lines. It¡¯s not the same.¡± ¡°Well, that don¡¯t matter, do it?¡± The student held out his hand to show his fingers twitching inwardly, as if trying and failing to make a fist. ¡°It don¡¯t go much further than this. How am I supposed to hold that tiny thing?¡± They¡¯d sent Vidar someone who couldn¡¯t craft runes at all. Someone who couldn¡¯t even hold the instrument needed to make marks. Useless. No, he realized, not useless. Just because you couldn¡¯t craft runes didn¡¯t mean you couldn¡¯t work with them at all. Still, it bristled a little, having been given broken students. He masked his disappointment. He put on a smile he¡¯d seen on his own teachers many times and radiating that same kind of patient encouragement. Vidar hoped his wasn¡¯t as transparent as the ones that¡¯d been directed at him so many times. ¡°We¡¯ll move you on to this next part, then.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± the student asked. While the others sat on the floor doing their best to copy the light rune, he brought the one without even one functioning hand to the side to explain. ¡°Once the lines are drawn, you have to make the rune work. So, the thing you need the most is your mind,¡± he said, pointing at his skull. ¡°And some imagination.¡± The student listened intently. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Lymmel.¡± ¡°Well, Lymmel,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Take this.¡± He handed over a spent light rune that he hadn¡¯t gotten around to rejuvenating yet. One of Alvarn¡¯s wooden discs. Lymmel¡¯s eyes widened, and he pulled his hand back. ¡°I can¡¯t take that. It¡¯s witchcraft.¡± ¡°Just take it,¡± Vidar said, shoving the rune into his open hand. ¡°It isn¡¯t witchcraft. Witches aren¡¯t real. This is rune crafting. It¡¯s why you¡¯re here. Remember? You wanted to learn, didn¡¯t you?¡± Lymmel shook his head violently, but he kept hold of the rune. ¡°No one asked me. Dinky just dumped me here. Said I was useless as a thief.¡± ¡°What good is a thief with no hands?¡± Vidar asked, speaking without thinking. Lymmel¡¯s face fell, but he didn¡¯t comment. Rather than apologizing, Vidar pushed on. ¡°I want you to touch the symbol on here. Anywhere within the ring of wood will do. Then I want you to close your eyes and imagine a circle. That¡¯s the round shape of this disc of wood here.¡± ¡°I know what a circle is,¡± Lymmel grumbled. ¡°Once you have that firmly in your mind, you have to imagine the lines here, the ones making up the runic symbol. Understand?¡± Lymmel nodded. ¡°Good. The lines in your mind have to match the ones printed on the rune. See?¡± Lymmel opened his eyes to watch Vidar¡¯s finger as he traced the lines. ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°If the lines aren¡¯t perfect, the ones in your mind shouldn¡¯t be either.¡± ¡°Then what?¡± ¡°That¡¯s it for now,¡± Vidar said. ¡°For today, we won¡¯t move beyond imagination.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Lymmel asked. ¡°For now,¡± Vidar repeated. He might have attempted to sound callous when speaking with Yallander, but he didn¡¯t want these people to end up injured, or worse. Being a student was a terrible thing, full of anxious learning and testing. Humiliation and frustration. He would not see these already-broken people put down further if he could prevent it. That was the least he could do, Vidar figured, because of how well he was being paid for it. After all, even he never promised any results. He wondered how much his own tutors had taken out of his father¡¯s pockets after he himself had tired of trying to teach his oldest son. Rage suddenly swelled in his chest. Vidar, shocked by the sudden emotion, gritted his teeth and slapped Lymmel¡¯s back. ¡°There you go, get to it.¡± Joining the others, he saw several styles in practice. One of the geezers had already filled his entire paper with trembling lines. Not a single one of them was straight, but they all fell in roughly the right angles. He watched the old man fill in the last blank spot. He made the marks in a slow, unsteady hand. ¡°Go faster,¡± Vidar said. ¡°See if that will help with the shaking. You¡¯re drawing from your wrist. Try holding it still. Instead, move your elbow or shoulder.¡± It was a common technique among scribes when writing in large letters or a flowing style. The wrist was only able to make small marks with accuracy. But the elbow and the shoulder could move much more freely. The old man¡¯s troubled look eased a little, and he turned the paper over. Vidar didn¡¯t stay to see him apply the new knowledge. The two others missing a hand looked like they still had full use of their remaining one. They were both terrible. One just made runes haphazardly. The lines made no sense despite the simpleness of the symbol. When he looked up at the wall to the rune he was supposed to copy, his eyes narrowed and his face turned into a mask of frustration. ¡°Keep trying,¡± Vidar said. The man obviously needed glasses. The other of the pair was doing a better job of it. None of his runes were correct, though, with lines slanted too far or not enough. His control of the charcoal was terrible, and Vidar showed him how to hold it. He hadn¡¯t realized before how much help his training as a scribe had been for this new part of his life. Without it, his own symbols might have looked something like this man¡¯s. Instead, he¡¯d been able to grasp it and copy a symbol in a matter of a few attempts. The life before his exile hadn¡¯t been a complete waste, then. All those hours sweating in the workshop. He shuddered at the recollection. The other old man was sleeping soundly, not having made a single mark. Vidar decided not to wake him. By the look of him, he wasn¡¯t long for this world. Let him have his sleep in the presence of a sowilo rune. He wasn¡¯t hurting anyone. That left two students. The feminine boy, or girl in boy¡¯s clothing, sat by himself by the edge of the group. Vidar got to his knees to inspect the kenaz symbols and found himself impressed. ¡°These are very well made.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± he replied in a soft, low voice without looking up from the paper. Long, slender fingers held the piece of charcoal in an unconventional way, grasping it with all fingers, like one might hold a lighting stick. Vidar saw no reason to correct him on the grip, not when he was getting results like that. ¡°What is your name?¡± ¡°Frinn.¡± A boy¡¯s name. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± Frinn looked up then, glaring straight into Vidar¡¯s eyes. Some of the hair over his face shifted, revealing a wicked-looking scar going from his forehead, down his cheek, and down to his jaw. ¡°Nothing. I¡¯d like you to start drawing circles around the kenaz symbols. If possible, don¡¯t make them overlap. You may use ink, if you want.¡± Frinn nodded without looking back up, and he gave no verbal reply. That left the bearded man. He sat near the wall, staring up at the light rune without blinking. ¡°It¡¯s not wise to stare right at the light for too long,¡± Vidar said, approaching. The man jumped in startlement while sitting and spun his head to look up over his shoulder. ¡°Sorry, lad, didn¡¯t hear you coming. Sneaking like a thief about to rob a pretty lass of her undergarments, aren¡¯t you?¡± Vidar blinked. ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°Never mind me,¡± he said, reaching out with his right hand. ¡°Harald.¡± Vidar took it. ¡°Vidar.¡± ¡°Of course, of course. Our esteemed tutor,¡± Harald said, looking back up at the rune. ¡°Ain¡¯t it beautiful?¡± ¡°You¡¯re sitting too close to it.¡± Harald turned again. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Look at this,¡± Vidar said, pulling out another kenaz rune from his pocket and placing it on Harald¡¯s paper. ¡°When you sit at this angle, it gets all distorted. See the differences?¡± The symbols on the paper were decent enough, but the lines were all too short and pushed together, because he¡¯d been looking at the rune from almost right beneath it. Harald slapped his knee and let out a booming laugh. ¡°Right you are, lad! Right you are! I¡¯ll do ¡¯em over and do ¡¯em right, I promise.¡± With that promise made, he stared back up at the rune without moving back. ¡°Look at it, though. It¡¯s a beaut. Damn me if it isn¡¯t a beaut.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± It was a decent enough rune, but it was just a couple of lines. ¡°Old. Ancient. Isn¡¯t it? Left behind by our ancestors¡¯ ancestors. Written in a language no one speaks no more. A few lines to give us light in the dark winter. Beautiful.¡± Vidar thought he saw Harald wipe away a tear. ¡°You¡¯re in the thieves¡¯ guild?¡± ¡°Aye, but I¡¯m not a thief.¡± ¡°How does that work?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Chopping wood is my business¡­ Was my business. The guild kept me and mine fed and warm when an injury put me on my back for a good long while. In exchange, I keep my ears and eyes open.¡± ¡°An informant.¡± Harald winced, but gave a small nod as he hunched his shoulders forward. ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°How come you¡¯re with this bunch, then?¡± That question made the bulky man break out with a sunny smile. ¡°Volunteered! Rune craft, can you imagine it, lad?¡± Vidar chuckled. ¡°Well, keep it up, Harald. Copy the symbol on that disc instead, so you get the angle right.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry your little self, I¡¯ll get it right.¡± By the time the sun was about to rise, Vidar instructed everyone on how to imagine the circle in their minds and the symbol within the bounds of that circle. ¡°What comes next?¡± the old man who hadn¡¯t been sleeping asked. His lines had improved quite a bit once he adopted Vidar¡¯s advice. Some of those runes he¡¯d put to paper might even be usable. ¡°Tomorrow, we¡¯ll talk about your body¡¯s essence and how we use it to power the runes. Don¡¯t do anything on your own until then, or you might accidentally kill yourself.¡± A quiet murmur broke out, but that was all. None looked discouraged. Dawn finally broke then, the sky turning purple and orange. Vidar collected the two kenaz runes on the wooden discs and then rendered the one rune on the wall inactive. By that time, the sowilo rune on the floor no longer provided warmth, having run out of essence. ¡°Tomorrow, then,¡± Vidar said. The students shuffled out past him while giving small thanks or muttering ¡°tomorrow¡± as they went. Once they were all gone, including the sleeping geezer, Vidar took stock of the room. A sensation filled him when he collected the used sheets of paper strewn about, a sensation he wasn¡¯t familiar with. It took him a few moments to place it. Accomplishment. He¡¯d done a decent enough job of teaching these people, he thought, allowing himself a sprinkling of pride. Chapter 24
With the aim of hiding his silver under the loose plank beneath the bed in his room, he made his way back. The smell of food from Edna¡¯s kitchen beckoned, and Vidar ordered in a meal, not having had a single bite to eat in forever. ¡°A lass is sleeping in your room,¡± she muttered when she put a bowl in front of him. ¡°There¡¯s someone in my room?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said, wasn¡¯t it? A girl, scrawny thing.¡± She slapped his fingers with the wooden spoon she kept tied to her belt. ¡°Shame on you for taking advantage!¡± He pulled his hand away. ¡°Ow!¡± She glared at him. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything! Did she give you a name?¡± Edna narrowed her eyes, obviously not believing him. ¡°Barely more than a child.¡± ¡°Name?¡± ¡°No name that I recall. No words at all, poor lass.¡± ¡°Siv?¡± The wooden spoon came down again, but he was quick enough to pull his hand away. Instead, it hit the rim of his bowl, sending the stew flying. ¡°Hey! Look what you did to my food!¡± ¡°You do know the poor girl!¡± ¡°She¡¯s a friend!¡± Vidar protested. Edna shook her head slowly. ¡°Terrible state, the lass. Distraught. Does a fine pantomime of you, though. No question about who she was looking for once she hunched over with a sour face and ears standing all the way out.¡± Vidar gave her a glare of his own, but she just chuckled. ¡°Aye, just like that.¡± ¡°She¡¯s just a friend, and I¡¯m going to check on her now.¡± He stared at the mess on the table as he walked away. ¡°You¡¯re giving me another bowl of that later!¡± ¡°Men!¡± Edna exclaimed. The mad woman thought he was some sort of deviant. Old hags like her are never able to see the good in people, he thought miserably as he made his way up the stairs. ¡°Siv?¡± he asked, opening the door after unlocking it. Siv being in there meant Edna possessed a key of her own. Vidar did not approve of her having access to his things. He¡¯d need to find a way of securing his silver as it grew more plentiful, or he was liable to lose it all. A small form huddled on the bed in the dark. It didn¡¯t move. Vidar triggered a kenaz rune, and that made her startle awake. She turned with eyes wide from fright, letting out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a hoarse, wailing moan. Her hair was wet and slicked tight to her head. Those wide eyes turned to slits as tears welled up, running down her cheeks. Siv threw herself off the bed to stand before him. The usually silent girl now made a long string of noises, as if she was attempting to speak. He put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. ¡°Where is Ida?¡± The question only made her cry harder. She raised her arms so the sleeves of her ragged coat were pulled down, revealing pale skin full of old, healed welts and new bruises. ¡°Who did this to you? Are you hurt?¡± She shook her head and held out her arms together in front of her, palms facing up, but her hands closed in tight little fists. Vidar frowned, then closed his hands around her wrists. ¡°Manacles? Ida was taken?¡± Siv pointed and nodded, excited. ¡°Who took her?¡± A frustrated groan escaped her throat, then she began stepping back and forth in the room. ¡°Someone who walks?¡± She shook her head and stomped her foot, then hugged herself, panic setting in. Vidar was growing increasingly frustrated but couldn¡¯t fault the girl for not being able to speak. ¡°Did you break into someone¡¯s house?¡± Nod. ¡°Can you show me where?¡± Shake of the head. ¡°Because she¡¯s not there anymore?¡± Excited, she nodded. They¡¯d burglarized another house, and it hadn¡¯t gone over well with the owner, Vidar figured. If Ida wasn¡¯t there anymore, the next logical location for her would be¡­ ¡°Jail?¡± Excitement and fear both drained from her, and she sat down on the floor, limp. She nodded. ¡°You want me to help her escape from the most guarded place in the entire city, other than the damn keep?¡± Siv looked up at him. Nod. ¡°How did you get away?¡± She made a running motion with her fingers, then pointed at Vidar. ¡°You ran and came here,¡± Vidar said. He didn¡¯t have to watch her nod to know that he was right. He wanted to ask why she¡¯d come to him, but it was no use. Obviously, the girls only had each other. Once they left Embla following his own departure, there was no one looking after them. Emboldened, Ida must¡¯ve wanted to find a place to rob straight away so they¡¯d have money to live on. He couldn¡¯t fault her for it, but he saw no way of getting Ida out of this peril. ¡°What¡¯ll happen to her in there?¡± Siv held out her right arm, then made a chopping motion with the left. Vidar winced. Having already seen his students that morning, he already knew what the answer would be. Deep down, he¡¯d known. ¡°We¡¯ll think of something,¡± he said. ¡°Have you eaten?¡± Siv shook her head. Vidar sighed. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to teach you how to write at some point.¡± After a brief pause, he added, ¡°And me to read without going cross-eyed and wanting to hurl. Come, let¡¯s go downstairs and have Edna give us some more of that stew while we think of a way to help your sister.¡± By the time their bowls were empty and Siv had calmed down somewhat, Vidar had formulated something approximating a plan. ¡°Can you find one of the boys, Erik, Sven, or whatever the third one was called, and make one of them help us?¡± Siv looked up and blinked several times, like she¡¯d been near asleep. She gave him a searching look, but finally nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll need a distraction.¡± He could read the question on her face. She wondered about his plan. Vidar did his best to project a confident grin. ¡°I¡¯m going to get Ida out by using my sharp wit and my newfound runic powers!¡± A few hours later, Vidar waited behind the corner of an upscale dressmaker¡¯s shop. He peered out toward the back entrance of the barracks. It was far less guarded than the jail itself, and you could cross right through it to get there. A shortcut. The only reason he knew this was from watching a few guards entering the jail on the other side, only to emerge from the barracks a little later. Only a single guard stood by the barracks entrance, lazily leaning against the stone wall with his eyes closed. Vidar didn¡¯t recognize the man with his tousled blond hair and impressively fat jowls. The plan was simple. Distract the guard and slip inside. Once inside, no one would question his reason for being there. Vidar would find the door to the jail and then free Ida. To open the door, he would either need to secure a key or use a sowilo rune to melt through the metal. Easy. The crowd in this part of town was thin, and the people were well-dressed against the cold. Proper gentlemen and ladies. Their noses were turned up at the sight of him huddling by the side of a building. The streets were wider and cleaned of snow and sleet. All the houses were built from bricks, rather than stone or wood. Even the air smelled cleaner here, where rich bastards made their homes. With the keep itself looming in the distance, a many-tiered, defensible structure, Vidar couldn¡¯t help but glance up at the many small windows. Forget the people watching him on the street. It felt like someone was glaring down at him from up there. He did his best to shrug it off and concentrate on the barracks. They were built into a thick, defensible wall going around this entire part of Halmstadt. It was an extra layer of protection if the town would come under siege. A few drawbridges pulled up meant cutting off the rest of Halmstadt. Another sign of these bastards not giving a damn about their nonwealthy citizens. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The more immediate problem was the matter of escaping back out from the wall. If things got too heated, the soldiers on guard might raise the bridges, trapping Vidar inside. Unless¡­ He looked around, then walked around the edge of the building, then crossed a street and then another. There! One of the hatches leading underground. That made him breathe a little easier. With the key always on hand, Vidar had more avenues of escape than anyone else in the city. A shout rose in the direction of the barracks and Vidar hurried back to spot Erik disappearing behind a set of residences. The guardsman slowly jogged after him, huffing and puffing like he was about to keel over. The door inside was unguarded and open. He ran and only stopped once he made it inside. Rushing through at top speed would alert anyone in there, so he forced himself to slow down. Vidar straightened his back and settled for a brisk walk, looking straight ahead, like he knew where he was going. Most of the rooms were empty and the few guardsmen didn¡¯t pay him any mind. They barely looked up from their card games or where they lounged in their cots. The problem was, the place was a maze of corridors, stairs, and dead ends. When he passed a young guard, reading a book of all things, for the third time, he noticed Vidar. ¡°Who¡¯re you?¡± he asked, suspicion plain on his face, putting the book away. Vidar recognized the picture of a knight on the front, but couldn¡¯t remember its title. Vidar drew himself up and spoke with an air of authority. ¡°My name is Harald Frinn, legal counsel. I am here to provide for the poor souls you have so wrongly incarcerated.¡± The young guardsman¡¯s eyes widened a little, but then he frowned. ¡°All we have now is a couple of drunks and a thief. Who¡¯re you meeting with? Never heard of none like you coming here before.¡± ¡°Please show me to the thief at once,¡± Vidar said. That suspicious look remained for a brief moment, then the young man shrugged and waved for him to follow. ¡°Not sure why you wouldn¡¯t just enter from the front.¡± Vidar grunted noncommittally. A few twists and turns later, the guardsman unlocked the door to the jail. It was sturdy, built with metal bars going both horizontally and vertically. Small spaces were left in between. Not wide and tall enough to climb in through, but they left enough room to see the room beyond. Cells. ¡°Just go out the front on your way back, won¡¯t you?¡± the soldier said, locking the door again behind Vidar. He walked off without another comment, leaving him alone. Before checking the cells, Vidar made sure no one stood nearby in the short corridor on the other end. It was empty. ¡°Ida?¡± he whispered, trying to get a good look at the inhabitants of the different cells. Each held a single person, that much he could see, but beyond that, the light wasn¡¯t strong enough, only lit by lanterns hanging from the ceiling above, where Vidar stood between the cells. Six cages, for lack of a better word, took up most of the narrow room. Each of them could hold at least twenty people, he thought, but the few prisoners in there were kept apart. ¡°Ida?¡± he asked again, a little louder. ¡°Yes?¡± a man answered, slurring his speech, half-asleep. The cells were crafted very much like the door leading into the space, with metal bars leaving the jailers with clear and direct line of sight into the enclosures at all times. ¡°Shut up,¡± Vidar said, his voice a little too loud. One of the huddled shapes stirred. ¡°Vidar?¡± Vidar hurried over to Ida¡¯s cell. ¡°Ida!¡± She sat with some difficulty, a sharp intake of breath betraying some wound in her side once she attempted to stand. Ida remained upright in her second attempt and shuffled toward him. ¡°What¡¯re you doing here?¡± Her face was a swollen, purple mess of welts and bruises. One eye wept a reddish liquid and it was not tears. Resignation. Her entire posture looked defeated. ¡°Siv came to find me. I¡¯m here to get you out.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind leaving!¡± one of the drunks shouted, far too loud for comfort. ¡°Shut up,¡± Vidar hissed before turning back to Ida. ¡°Can you run?¡± Her voice was small, and the reply long in the coming. ¡°I can barely stand.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll think of something,¡± Vidar said, digging through his coat pocket to grab one of the sowilo runes he¡¯d kept from Alvarn. ¡°Stand back.¡± It looked like she was trying to raise an eyebrow, but Ida¡¯s swollen face wouldn¡¯t emote properly. She remained in her place, silent. Expectant. The wooden disc was smaller than the usual kenaz runes since it was meant to be kept under your clothes to stave off the cold winter. Ever since thinking of this plan, if you could call it that, Vidar had made sure to transfer essence to it continuously. Now, in his mind¡¯s eye, the circle containing that essence thrummed like it was barely able contain what churned within. He didn¡¯t know much about metal, but he did know it melted slowly. Triggering the rune with a wide opening meant expelling a whole lot of heat in a flash, but that probably wouldn¡¯t work. On the other hand, if he made the opening too small, it wouldn¡¯t do much at all. If only he¡¯d have some time to test things, but it was not meant to be. Vidar breathed out and made the opening, triggering the sowilo rune as he held it in place against the metal where the door met the frame, right where the locking mechanism would slide into place. The metal quickly grew hotter, and in a matter of seconds, it was glowing orange and yellow. A new problem reared its ugly head then. While he didn¡¯t burn his fingers from the wooden disc itself, the hot metal offered no such protection. The searing pain proved unbearable, but he, thankfully, carried the letter opener with him. Using that to push on the heat rune as it merged with the metal, lodging itself inside, pushing forward, Vidar could protect himself. The heat rune pushing into the metal as it melted made for the second surprise. A real rune scribe might be able to tell him why external heat affected the wood while the rune¡¯s own heat didn¡¯t, but that¡¯s what happened the moment the wood was pushed deep enough into the metal. It caught fire. Since he no longer touched the rune, other than with the letter opener, he couldn¡¯t be sure how much essence remained within, but it was enough for the whole thing to burst once the wood it was carved upon sustained enough damage. A loud, crashing sound was all he had time to register before everything turned to black. When he woke, Vidar was in a cell of his own. It was located opposite the one Ida occupied, and, groaning and searching his surroundings, he saw the door. ¡°It blew open!¡± he yelled before groaning as his head thrummed with pain. An almost silent sigh from his right, followed by the muted word, ¡°hurray,¡± allowed him to locate Ida again. They¡¯d moved her to the cell right next to him, the one closest to the back door. ¡°Did you get hurt?¡± he asked, trying to piece everything together. ¡°Did the blast knock me out?¡± ¡°It did. I¡¯m fine. Your little trick broke the lock and took a chunk of the door with it, but the noise alerted the guards. Since you were out cold and with my legs having a few too many lumps and bruises, they scooped us up right away and tossed us into new cells. I think you¡¯re in more trouble than me.¡± Vidar¡¯s hand came away with blood from the back of his head, and the back of it was covered in small black specks. Metal shavings, he realized, scraping them off with his nails. Thin trickles of blood followed each buried piece. He winced. ¡°They don¡¯t like attempts at breaking prisoners out? Who would have thought?¡± ¡°They found all the runes on you. First, they cursed about the guild overstepping, but they didn¡¯t find a seal on you. For the guild, I mean.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡± ¡°Without a seal proving you¡¯re part of the guild, they know you¡¯re not a member. Don¡¯t you know what happens to practitioners who aren¡¯t part of the guild?¡± A chill ran through Vidar. ¡°No, I don¡¯t. What?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, but they seemed to think it was funny even if they didn¡¯t know what to do with you. So now you¡¯re in here with me. Congratulations.¡± She breathed in deep and closed her good eye. ¡°Sorry. You risked yourself in coming here to rescue me and all I¡¯m doing is whining. Thank you, and I¡¯m sorry it came to this.¡± Vidar searched his pockets. All his runes were gone, but that was not the worst of it. He groaned. ¡°What. Did you think they¡¯d let you keep the runes in a cell?¡± ¡°They took my silver. With Siv crying in my room, I forgot to stash it!¡± That made her chuckle. ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯ll have to worry about poverty for much longer. They¡¯ll cut off my hand and leave me to rot for a while, but then they¡¯ll release me. You, though? I¡¯m not so sure.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. This isn¡¯t over.¡± Then he started digging around in his pants again before breathing a sigh of relief. ¡°The key. They didn¡¯t find it.¡± Losing that would have been a much bigger blow than the runes and the silver. The runes would have been nice in the short term, obviously, but he couldn¡¯t even make himself consider the fact he might be soundly trapped forever, however short that forever turned out to be. Vidar grabbed hold of one of the metal bars that made up the wall and pulled himself up. Everything spun for a moment and his headache throbbed, but it eventually settled down. His pockets were empty, but he needed something to make a rune with, anything. If he could just get another sowilo rune, the lock could be conquered. With a kenaz rune as well, he could blind the guards, allowing them to escape. The problem was in crafting runes with no supplies. ¡°Do you have anything on you to write with?¡± he asked. ¡°No, dummy. Who lugs around a bunch of stuff to write with? I can¡¯t even read.¡± She sounded a little cheerier than before, but Ida wasn¡¯t much help. ¡°What about you drunks?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Shut up, I¡¯m trying to sleep!¡± someone slurred. One of the others stood and reached an arm through the openings in the cell wall. He was holding something, a smell he recognized well from the sewers. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a nice ol¡¯ turd to write with if you let me out of here.¡± Vidar shuddered. ¡°No thanks.¡± Even if that would¡¯ve worked, and he wasn¡¯t sure it would, he hadn¡¯t become quite that desperate. Not yet. ¡°Blood,¡± Ida said. ¡°Or if you want my oozing, crushed eye, I¡¯ll pluck it out for you. Doubt I¡¯ll have any more use for it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure your eye will be fine,¡± he said absentmindedly, not believing his own words for a second. That eye wasn¡¯t going to heal. Vidar pursed his lips. ¡°What about blood? That might work.¡± ¡°I just said?¡ª¡± ¡°Hold on a moment,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Let me think.¡± The consistency of blood wasn¡¯t as good as paint, obviously, but it would probably dry without messing up his painted lines too much. ¡°Yes, it might work,¡± he said, scratching his chin. ¡°But what to paint the symbol on?¡± The cells were completely bare without as much as a bucket to piss in, hence the less-than-pleasant stench wafting in from the drunks, he realized. Using his clothes as a canvas wouldn¡¯t work without a way to keep the fabric stretched at all times. Too many folds and creases and the whole thing might blow up in their faces again. ¡°Your skin,¡± Ida said. ¡°Or mine.¡± Vidar held up a finger, as he¡¯d just thought of something brilliant. ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she said dangerously. He grinned and turned to her. ¡°Just messing with you.¡± Then he remembered the wood enveloped by melting metal. No, his own skin would not work, not unless he wanted to end up burned to death in an inferno. ¡°I¡¯ll burn. It won¡¯t work,¡± he said. Sighing, he sat, leaning against the wall separating himself from Ida, trying to think of something. She joined him on her own side. ¡°You really don¡¯t have anything else?¡± she asked. Vidar shook his head. ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°So what do we do?¡± He thought another moment, then settled on a solution that might work. The only one he could think of even attempting. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to wait for one of them to open the door. Then we attack.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to fight the guardsmen without a weapon?¡± Ida asked, doing her best to mask what he thought of that idea. ¡°No,¡± he said grimly. ¡°Not without a weapon.¡± The small pieces of metal embedded in his skin didn¡¯t release enough blood, so he set to the disgusting task of biting a finger on his left hand until blood welled up from the wound. Using that as ink, he painted his other palm. One line going down to the left, then another continuing down to the right. Kenaz. Light to blind. Before he finished the circle, the blood stopped coming from his finger, forcing him to dig in again with his teeth. Eyes watering from the pain, he completed the circle. It didn¡¯t take long for the thin streaks to dry, and Vidar closed his eyes, bringing forth the circle in his mind¡¯s eye. He placed the kenaz rune within and then, holding his breath, he filled it with essence from his own arm. It worked. He couldn¡¯t believe it, but it actually worked. ¡°Yes,¡± he muttered, soft enough not even Ida could hear. ¡°I did it.¡± Finally, in that moment, he thought of a use for the thrust rune, stakra, as Lytir so aptly named it. Looking at his still relatively unscathed hand, he sighed and then set to biting. Chapter 25
They didn¡¯t have to wait long before a guardsman came trundling out of the corridor leading to the front of the jail. With red and purple blotches on his face, it looked like the man had taken a beating as bad as Ida¡¯s, at least as first glance. When he came to stand before Vidar¡¯s cell, searching for the right key on a ring with over twenty of them, he saw it was some sort of skin condition. This guard smelled almost as bad as the drunks. ¡°You¡¯re to see the magistrate,¡± the guard grumbled. Vidar readied himself but gave no reply. ¡°I¡¯d love me a reason for clubbing you, you hear?¡± He touched the wooden pole hanging from his belt. When the right key finally made the lock click and the guardsman opened the cell door, Vidar acted. The kenaz rune flashed after he brought his palm close to the guard¡¯s face. The guardsman cried out and dropped the keys, kicking them away as he stumbled. Ida squeaked in excitement. Vidar dove for the ring of keys and grabbed it. Unfortunately, the guard anticipated his move despite being robbed of his vision. A terribly strong grip closed around Vidar¡¯s upper arm, and the two of them tumbled to the floor. ¡°Get off me!¡± Vidar hissed. ¡°I¡¯ll have your guts for ornaments, ye bastard!¡± the guard shouted. Vidar was much too small and light to have any sort of chance wrestling against this guard on the floor, but he thankfully managed to land on top, his knee heavy on the guard¡¯s chest. ¡°Oof!¡± Vidar half stood, then fell again, his arm still firmly in the guard¡¯s grasp. This time, he angled himself so that same knee landed right in the guard¡¯s face. A loud crunch and then a snap was the result, and the guard¡¯s nose began pouring blood all over himself. ¡°Let me go!¡± ¡°You¡¯re dead, little boy. I don¡¯t care what they say!¡± the guard barked, slowly getting the upper hand despite his injuries. Vidar fell on his back and the guard crawled over his legs before sitting up in a half-crouch, his entire body over Vidar¡¯s. A blow came down, driving the air from Vidar¡¯s chest. Then another thudding into his face. Ida shouted something, but Vidar¡¯s ears were ringing, blocking everything out. ¡°Get off me,¡± he mumbled, barely registering the third blow, this one to his temple. Two huge hands wrapped themselves around Vidar¡¯s neck and a crushing pressure built immediately, cutting off the air so he couldn¡¯t even cough. ¡°Get off me,¡± Vidar repeated, but it came out as a muted, saliva-filled hiss. Kicking his legs against the bare floor did nothing, and his vision was getting dim, life draining out of him. With thoughts flowing as through thick syrup, he lifted both hands to try to push the guard off, knowing it would do no good. Darkness came, but in that darkness he saw two circles. The runes. His hands. One was spent. It would give no more light. The other, though, that one was brimming with essence, surging with life. Vidar triggered the stakra rune almost without conscious thought, opening the circle wide. A loud thump sounded, followed immediately by his arm being violently pushed back. The pressure around his throat disappeared. Vision returned with his panting, choked breath. He coughed and coughed, drawing in that sweet air. ¡°Vidar!¡± Ida shouted, but he barely registered her voice. Turning to all fours, Vidar hurled, spraying the unmoving guardsman with the contents of his stomach. Why wasn¡¯t the man moving? Vidar wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat, then focused to clear his racing mind as he stood on trembling legs. A hole. There was a hole in the middle of the guardsman¡¯s chest. It was roughly circular, with torn apart flesh lining the entrance. Blood poured out of it, but Vidar still saw the man¡¯s insides. Dumbly, he raised his palm to look at the thrust rune, then back to the corpse. Vidar swallowed hard, eyes watering. ¡°Vidar!¡± He¡¯d killed the guard. Numb. He felt numb. The lines making up the rune in the palm of his hand were ruined now, but it¡¯d worked. Worked too well. Vidar was a killer now. He¡¯d killed a guardsman. They¡¯d never let him get away with that. He¡¯d never?¡ª Vidar bent over at the waist and vomited all over the corpse again, letting out a low, moaning wail as the ramifications of what he¡¯d done came at him like a punch in the stomach. ¡°Vidar!¡± ¡°What?¡± he barked, looking up. ¡°The keys!¡± Ida cried. ¡°We have to get out of here, you stupid bastard, or they¡¯ll hang you for this!¡± He blinked several times, then shook his head and placed his hands on his knees to push himself up to standing. ¡°Keys,¡± he mumbled, looking around the floor. A small mound of flesh and blood rested a short distance from the corpse. ¡°In the door!¡± Right. The door. He turned back to the door leading into his own cell. The key was still in there, the rest of them hanging from the ring. Walking over, he pulled the key out and headed over to Ida. She snatched the ring from his hand. ¡°Let me, I¡¯ll be faster!¡± He didn¡¯t protest as she reached out through the gap between bars and inserted the first key, swearing when it wouldn¡¯t turn. Ida¡¯s fingers worked in a blur of deft dexterity despite her many injuries, and she didn¡¯t have any problem fitting keys into the slot. Vidar did his best to ignore the remains on the ground. The room spun around him and he thought he might vomit again, when he caught sight of one of the drunks. He was pressed against the one stone wall in his cell, as far away from Vidar as he could possibly get, eyes wide with fright. The drunk flinched when Vidar¡¯s attention fell on him. Fear. He¡¯d scared the drunks with his abilities. He didn¡¯t know what to think of the fear in the man¡¯s eyes. Should he be proud? No. Not that. Never that. ¡°There!¡± Ida shouted, forgetting to keep her voice low in the excitement after hearing the key click. She stepped out of the cell, gave Vidar a quick hug, then bent down and stole the guardsman¡¯s cudgel. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t steal,¡± Vidar mumbled, eyes looking down at his own feet. Specks of pink dotted his leather boots. ¡°Shut up,¡± Ida said. ¡°We¡¯re looking to survive this.¡± She pulled on his coat, then stopped dead in her tracks. ¡°Shit.¡± Vidar looked up to see two new arrivals. Guardsmen. Two of them. They were big men. Together, they filled up the entire width of the corridor. Vidar and Ida would not be able to slink past. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°What in the king¡¯s fury happened here?¡± the guardsman to the left said, drawing a blade from his waist. Reflected light from the flickering flames danced along the edge. No cudgel this time. A swing from that thing would mean the end of them. Vidar¡¯s eyes were drawn to the other man, however. His face was stark white and his eyes were full of recognition. ¡°Ren?¡± It was the big, burly bookseller whose shop he¡¯d stumbled into. The one who introduced him to Yallander. ¡°You have to help us, Ren,¡± Vidar said, straightening. The other guardsman gave Ren an incredulous look. ¡°You know this runt, recruit? This murderer?¡± Vidar winced at the harsh words but powered through. ¡°Ren. What would Yallander say if he learned you had the chance to help me but refused? Who¡¯ll teach the guild?¡± At the mention of Yallander, the other guard¡¯s eyes grew big and round, his mouth opening wide. ¡°Yallander? You¡¯re an infiltrator!¡± He turned as if to shout back the way he¡¯d come, but he never got a single word out. Ren spun, turning his hips to add weight to a swing, cracking his fist against the guardsman¡¯s neck, breaking something in there. The man crumpled to the floor and Ren drove his heel down against the neck in the same place, producing another loud crunch. Ren stepped over him and into the chamber with the cells, holding out his hand. ¡°Keys.¡± Ida handed them over. ¡°Follow me.¡± The two of them followed Ren back the way he¡¯d just come. It didn¡¯t take long to reach a door at the other end of a bare corridor. Passing through it, they came upon a bored-looking old clerk behind a desk. Other than him, the place was empty. At the other end of that room, Vidar saw the exit. He¡¯d never been so excited to see the snowy ground before. The air was filled with pinkish hues. The sun was setting. He must¡¯ve been passed out far longer than he¡¯d thought. ¡°What¡¯re ye doin¡¯ with two prisoners?¡± the clerk asked, his voice nasal and whiny, like a sullen child¡¯s. Ren drew his cudgel. Vidar flinched back from the strike and averted his eyes as blood poured from the clerk¡¯s face and onto the open book he¡¯d been writing in. ¡°Your services to the guild are valuable,¡± Ren said, his voice conversational like he hadn¡¯t just killed two men in cold blood, one of them defenseless. ¡°But don¡¯t think this won¡¯t have consequences.¡± Ida answered in a low, monotone voice, ¡°What of the drunks?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the other prisoners.¡± There wasn¡¯t a doubt in Vidar¡¯s mind what would happen to those still trapped back there. ¡°What about you?¡± Ida asked. ¡°I¡¯ll bash my head in a little, make it look right. Now get the hell out of here!¡± Vidar and Ida hurried out into the cold and crossed the wide square to disappear among the houses. At that late hour, fewer people milled about, but Vidar felt their stares. Ida¡¯s appearance made a few people gasp and pull away, and he probably didn¡¯t strike a particularly dashing figure either after those blows to his head. Hurried steps along the wall soon placed them in front of the closest gates. It was still open and the two guards stationed there did not appear alarmed. They didn¡¯t know. Vidar told himself they didn¡¯t know as the two of them shuffled among the crowd of workers leaving for the day, heading home in the poorer districts. He heard mutters of undrinkable water and people spoke of melting snow for something to drink. It barely registered. Vidar was too on edge, nervously glancing this way and that. Even there, their appearances drew glances, but no one commented. People kept to themselves. It wasn¡¯t anyone¡¯s business. The two guards did not see them huddling in the dense crowd. By the time Vidar and Ida passed through the gate and across the small bridge of wood, a bell began to toll in the distance. ¡°Stop!¡± someone yelled. It was one of the guards. Vidar looked over his shoulder as Ida pulled him farther away. It was one of the guards holding up a hand to stop those behind before they exited. ¡°You all hear the bell! We¡¯re closing the gate until we hear from the captain!¡± People groaned and complained, throwing longing glances at Vidar and the others who¡¯d made it through. ¡°That was close,¡± Ida said. ¡°Too close.¡± The exhilaration of escape did not last long. Once they were out of sight from the wall, a crushing guilt made his hands tremble. ¡°So many dead.¡± ¡°Try not to think about it,¡± Ida said, still pulling him by the hand. ¡°How can I not think about it?¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t,¡± Ida said, stopping to turn and face him. ¡°Haven¡¯t you seen dead people before?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never killed anyone myself.¡± Her good eye was searching, looking up at him, like she couldn¡¯t quite understand what he was getting at. ¡°You¡¯re still new. It gets easier.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯ve taken someone¡¯s life?¡± Ida gave a sharp nod. ¡°Once. Self-defense. He would probably have ended my life once he was¡­¡± She paused. ¡°Finished. It was him or me. I chose me.¡± He didn¡¯t know what to say. ¡°Don¡¯t let these things get to you. Your life didn¡¯t matter to them. We do what we need to survive.¡± ¡°How old are you again?¡± Vidar asked, trying, and failing, to make his mouth form a joking smile. Strangely, hearing those callous words from this young girl did make him feel a little better. ¡°You grow up fast in Rat Town.¡± She gave a small smile, then winced, as if moving her face pained her. ¡°Come, I need to go to a place where I can get my eye looked at.¡± ¡°We should return to my room first. I lost my silver, remember? Siv is holed up in there. She must be worried out of her mind.¡± She pulled on his coat again and set them both in motion. ¡°It¡¯s on the way. It¡¯ll be quick, promise.¡± They arrived at what looked like any other house at the edge of Andersburg, except a larger wooden structure was built right next to it, almost like a barn. ¡°What is this place?¡± he asked as Ida banged on the door. ¡°Veterinarian.¡± He guffawed, then narrowed his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not serious? An animal doctor?¡± ¡°Animals. People. We¡¯re not so different. Besides, this bastard owes me one.¡± The door opened, and a figure appeared, wearing a white apron absolutely splattered with blood and gore. A pair of large hands with black hair on the knuckles clutched an equally messy cloth. Bald but with a huge, bushy brown mustache, this man leered down at Ida. ¡°Little thief. You look unwell.¡± Ida pointed at her face. ¡°It¡¯s my eye. I need your help, you ugly bastard.¡± ¡°A favor is usually asked with a little more sugar than that,¡± he said, licking his lower lip. He turned his head to glare at Vidar. ¡°Who¡¯s this, then? A boyfriend? You don¡¯t look so well either, boy.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you wait outside, Vidar? I¡¯ll be right out, I¡¯m sure,¡± Ida said, pushing past the man and entering the house. ¡°Yes, Vidar. Why don¡¯t you wait outside?¡± the man sneered down at him before turning around and shutting the door behind him, leaving Vidar alone out in the cold. What felt like an eternity later, he heard Ida cry out in pain. A long, tear-filled wail that ended in choking and what he thought was vomiting. It was difficult to say despite having his ear pressed against the door. The silence that followed made it crawl beneath his skin with indecision. It sounded like she was being attacked in there. Vidar shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking of all the ways an animal doctor might make a mistake and only worsen her already grievous injuries. By the time he¡¯d made the decision to enter, the door opened. He stumbled back from the surprise but was glad to see Ida emerge. At first glance, she appeared no less worse for wear than before. A bandage of sorts encircled her head with padding under it by her right eye, the broken one. Blood trickled from beneath it and the bandage was already stained. Ida adjusted her tunic after opening the door and closed her coat while she descended the steps down to stand before him. ¡°What happened? I heard you shouting in there.¡± She drew long, heavy breaths, faster and faster until she finally spoke in a steely voice that began trembling almost immediately. ¡°He couldn¡¯t do anything about the eye. It had to be removed, and I couldn¡¯t convince him to give me something for the pain.¡± Ida¡¯s entire being trembled, and he reached out to embrace her, but she pushed him away. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± Then she began to weep, turning around in a small circle, round and round, like she didn¡¯t know what to do with herself. Like she was stuck. ¡°Please. I have to see Siv.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take you to her.¡± By the time they set their steps toward Vidar¡¯s room, darkness had swallowed Andersburg. Ida¡¯s tears eventually dried up, and after that they walked in silence. People walked about, minding their own business, heading home after a long day of work or to the many establishments offering beer on the cheap or spirits to those with a little more coin to spare. Vidar took it all in, breathing deep despite the cold. Even without warmth runes hidden about his person, he barely registered the cold. It actually felt sort of nice against the wounds on his face. Shouts and raucous laughter spilled out of briefly opened doors, along with the light from within houses. People defied the cold and, to him, it seemed a celebration of life itself. They¡¯d made it out, and, for the moment, he was able to suppress the black memories of death. Even Ida looked to be doing a little better, even whistling a chirping tune, as they neared the part of Rat Town where Edna surely waited for him with another scolding. Siv would be so relieved to find he¡¯d accomplished the task of saving her sister. The lost runes could always be replaced and more money made. All that mattered was that they were alive and no longer caged like animals. A ponderous flap of something enormous far above their heads made the two of them stop. They looked up into the sky and saw it. Chapter 26
¡°What is that?¡± Ida asked, peering up into the clear night sky. A shape moved up there, blocking out the twinkling lights. The sound returned, and then again. Louder and faster as the dark shape grew. Vidar frowned, repeating her question, ¡°What is that?¡± The whoops and shouts that rang throughout Andersburg fell silent as the shape blacking out the stars descended. ¡°We have to get a better look,¡± Ida said, glancing up toward the rooftops. ¡°You¡¯re in no condition to climb. Neither am I.¡± She didn¡¯t listen. Instead, Ida approached a stack of crates next to a low one-story house. ¡°I have to see,¡± Ida said as he approached. ¡°You¡¯re not going to let me climb up on a roof all by myself, are you? It¡¯d be real stupid allowing someone as hurt as me alone onto a slippery roof.¡± Vidar sighed and followed, straining his already-tired body to reach for icy handholds. He¡¯d used a lot of essence in the jail, but his arms were no longer numb. Tired. He was just so tired. Like Ida, though, he really wanted a better look. ¡°Cursed darkness,¡± he muttered once they were up on the roof. The shape, whatever it was, was nowhere to be seen. They¡¯d missed it. Ida approached a second house. This one was two stories and sat conveniently connected with the first. An easy climb. ¡°Let¡¯s go higher. It might come back.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± Vidar asked, breathing hard but following without complaint. She scrambled over the top and out of sight, then returned, holding out her hand for help. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is, but it¡¯s big!¡± In the distance, someone cried out. A wail rose over the rooftops, along with a lot of cursing. Most people were out in the street now, their faces turned to the sky. From their vantage, they could at least get a good look at the citizens of Rat Town as they congregated out in the cold. That flapping sound returned again. Louder this time. ¡°It¡¯s back,¡± Vidar said, pulling his coat close around him to shield against the cold as he scanned the sky. They moved to the edge of the second building, where an ornamental piece of blackened metal rose out of a flat surface. A perfect place to perch on the otherwise slanted roof. ¡°I think it¡¯s wings,¡± Ida whispered, her breath coming out in a small but billowing cloud before her. ¡°Nothing has wings that big,¡± Vidar replied, most of his attention fixed on the stars, hoping to see the shape blocking them out again. At least it was a clear night. With clouds overhead and snow in the air, no one would¡¯ve been able to see a thing. ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡± He glanced down at her. ¡°Yeah? What, then?¡± Something enormous hurtled through the air right above the rooftops, forcing them both to their knees to huddle against each other. The sound that followed it was deafening, almost like a continuous thunderclap. Vidar thought he¡¯d seen something. A clawed foot. But no, he must have been mistaken. It¡¯d been too big, inconceivably so. Enormous. Ida cried out in fright as it passed above them before taking to the air again, but stood back up right after. ¡°There is something!¡± ¡°What?¡± Vidar shouted back. But he knew. They all knew, even if it couldn¡¯t be so. A fiery onslaught of death pummeled into the city as screams erupted anew. Flames lit the night air and revealed the monster that¡¯d come to bring about the end of humanity. ¡°Dragon,¡± Vidar muttered the word as he stood frozen, watching a street nearby going up in flames. It was as if his quiet word, spoken only to himself, echoed throughout Andersburg. ¡°Dragon!¡± they shouted, despair hanging on the word. Death had come to Halmstadt, death out of stories, out of myth. It couldn¡¯t be. The legends weren¡¯t true. Dragons did not exist. But here it was. An enormous scaled head hung low as it dove through the air and let out a shriek, followed by another bout of unrelenting fire that swallowed entire streets in a single fiery inferno. ¡°It-it can¡¯t be,¡± Vidar said, turning to Ida as he pointed to the sky. ¡°They aren¡¯t real!¡± Even in her face, he saw the city going up in flames. A warm light reflected on her skin, flames in the glint of her one eye. Ida licked her lips. ¡°What do we do?¡± Someone ran past the house, a man by the shape, burning. The wail coming from him made Vidar shudder, and he was almost glad when it cut off, the poor man dying even as he ran, collapsing into the snow. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Vidar whispered. The beast, enormous, swooped past again. It was closer this time, its hind legs even touching the odd building, immediately destroying them. Its giant wings looked like they might span half the width of Rat Town, too huge to comprehend. Dragon. It was a dragon. Vidar frowned as the thing momentarily set down on the ground, turning. Even at this distance, from up on that roof, he saw as it scratched the ground with its powerful legs, throwing up snow, stone, and dirt. It released a bout of flame, then took to the air again with a shriek. The scales were a reddish brown that almost appeared to smolder, but perhaps that was just the fiery light illuminating them. In the night, making out more detail was impossible, but it was enough. The dragon¡¯s maw was filled with teeth that must¡¯ve been as long as a man¡¯s arm. He¡¯d seen that much, seen the fire come out of its mouth. Dragon. He¡¯d seen a dragon. Almost been killed by it, and the night wasn¡¯t over. Several streets were burning. People were dying or having all their possessions ruined. For the moment, the beast was flying away, back up into the sky. Vidar frowned. No, that wasn¡¯t it. It was gaining altitude to cross over the inner wall. The night erupted with flames again as the keep itself, the bastion of strength in Halmstadt, came under assault. Even standing on a roof, he couldn¡¯t see that far away, and the city sloped up in that direction, putting him lower than even the start of the wall. It was only the size of the keep, and the fire licking its stone walls, that clued him in to what was happening. ¡°It¡¯s attacking the keep,¡± Vidar breathed. Ida looked away from the whole thing. ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked. Vidar turned and saw a figure up on the roof with them, blocking their path back down. A rush of energy surged through Vidar¡¯s body, but it quickly subsided when he recognized the man. ¡°Lytir,¡± he said. Lytir bowed. ¡°You followed my advice, little scribe. A boon for us all on this dreaded night of fire.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°A dragon soars across your sky and you ask of what I speak?¡± ¡°Who is this?¡± Ida asked. Vidar gestured toward Lytir. ¡°It¡¯s Lytir. You must¡¯ve seen him around? He¡¯s been out on the street here since forever.¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen him before in my life.¡± ¡°He¡¯s harmless. Just a little strange.¡± His words did not help her relax, and he saw her ready posture. It looked like she would either attack or flee. The way her eyes darted to the sides of the slanted roof, fleeing looked the likelier option. ¡°Look at his face, Vidar. Is that the face of a harmless man?¡± Vidar did look then. With the attack on Halmstadt and his bone-tiredness, he hadn¡¯t noticed. Ida¡¯s wariness made sense, looking at Lytir now. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes, a fire of his own, ready to burst. The placid smile on his face was gone, replaced by a toothy grin that did not reach the rest of his face. He stood straight, shoulders back. Vidar wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever seen Lytir stand tall before, and was amazed at the vagrant¡¯s impressive height. Come to think of it, there was little about him that painted him as a vagrant, not anymore. Even the joyful, slightly mocking tone of his voice was gone. ¡°The dragons have come. The harbingers,¡± Lytir said, his voice as intense as his eyes. Vidar swallowed hard. ¡°Harbingers of what, Lytir?¡± In the far distance, the dragon shrieked. Only then did the warning bells begin to toll throughout the city, like Halmstadt had been frozen in time before. The guardsmen were stuck in their own terror. ¡°Worse,¡± Lytir said simply. He continued, ¡°Take care, little scribe. Learn and grow. Do not throw your life away.¡± Ida shouted in terror then and pointed to a fire ravaging one of the nearby streets. ¡°Siv!¡± ¡°What?¡± Vidar asked, following the direction of her fingers. Edna¡¯s inn, his room, was engulfed in flames. ¡°No!¡± he shouted, stepping forward. ¡°Out of the way, Lytir!¡± ¡°Little scribe,¡± Lytir began, but Vidar cut him off. ¡°Not now!¡± Vidar¡¯s urgency seemingly amused the vagrant, whose eyes glittered as he nodded. ¡°Very well. Just a word of caution, then. Beware of shadows. A hand reached out for alms may soon find itself sacrificed. Be safe.¡± With that, he slid down the roof to Vidar¡¯s right and disappeared over the edge. He didn¡¯t hear the man landing on anything at all and saw no trace of him on the street. ¡°You should stay away from that man,¡± Ida said, hurrying past to descend to the street. Vidar followed. ¡°He¡¯s not usually like this. I don¡¯t know what happened.¡± ¡°A dragon happened, Vidar! A dragon burned down half of Andersburg! That¡¯s what!¡± ¡°Right,¡± he said, feeling stupid. She hadn¡¯t really answered his question, but what she¡¯d said needed saying. There were more important things happening around them at that moment. From the intermittent bouts of flames rising over the city in the distance, the dragon still assaulted the keep. Bells tolled, people screamed in pain or anguish. None of that was as important as their destination. Their feet struck the ground, and both set off in the direction of Edna¡¯s inn, running toward the flames. Houses burned all around them and they were forced to go the long way around several times when they were unable to withstand the heat. Even in the cold and the wet of winter, it all burned. Only stone withstood the flames of the dragon. Everything else succumbed. Edna¡¯s inn was a building constructed with timber and thatch. Finally, they arrived. Ida screamed at the top of her lungs as loud as her panting lungs allowed. ¡°Siv!¡± ¡°Siv!¡± Vidar joined in. The entire building was a wreck. Nothing remained but the platform of stone on which the building was once built. Buildings all around it burned as well. The entire street was struck by the dragon¡¯s flames. Those buildings touched by the fiery breath of that flying monster were so fully demolished there was nothing left. It¡¯d all already burned, while the surrounding houses were still aflame. It allowed Vidar to approach. Everything was still hot and smoldering, but he braved the warmth. Even in Andersburg, the main streets were wide and built with stone. This meant he didn¡¯t have to worry too much about his retreat. The way back was clear as long as debris didn¡¯t fall from the houses. People were running back and forth with buckets of water or screaming for their loved ones. All of them, including Vidar and Ida, were covered in a thick layer of soot and grime from the fires. Breathing through the smoke proved difficult and it made Vidar¡¯s head feel lightheaded, forcing him to stop every couple of steps. The spreading flames threatened to eat the entire neighborhood. They would already have done so if not for the snow keeping everything wet. With everyone working together, they might still save some of the affected buildings. Vidar didn¡¯t give a damn about other people¡¯s houses. His own building had just burned down. Ida followed him into the ruined building and they both gingerly stepped over bits and pieces of Edna¡¯s life and livelihood, searching through the rubble. Eventually they made it to the part of the house where Vidar¡¯s room would¡¯ve been if it still existed. ¡°Siv!¡± Ida shouted again, but it was no use. If that girl had been asleep in this room when the dragon swooped in from the sky, she was long gone. Something tickled his nose as he kicked a small bit of what might¡¯ve been a bedframe, cursing at the sky. Fire bellowed upward far in the distance, but the roar of the surrounding fires shut out any hope of hearing the dragon. Vidar didn¡¯t care. He pointed in the direction of the keep and screamed at the top of his lungs. ¡°Damn you, dragon! I¡¯ll get you for this. You owe me in silver and runes, and I¡¯ll come collect! You¡¯ll rue this day! Mark my words!¡± ¡°Vidar!¡± Ida shouted, her voice thick with what he interpreted as grief. ¡°No!¡± he shouted, not looking back. ¡°That beast will pay with its life for this! I don¡¯t care what I¡¯ll have to do. I¡¯ll kill it!¡± ¡°No, Vidar!¡± He turned around then, irritation at her insistence gnawing through his rage. ¡°What?¡± Siv. The young girls were nestled in a tight embrace, both sisters crying tears of joy rather than sadness. He hurried up to them. ¡°Siv!¡± They opened their embrace and wrapped him in with them, the three of them holding on to each other. The three of them stayed like that for a good long while, not moving until the smoke grew intolerable. On the way out of the rubble and back onto the street, Ida spoke and Siv¡¯s hands blurred as her fingers jumped from gesture to gesture in that strange language of hers. ¡°She says thank you for rescuing me, Vidar.¡± He waved it away. ¡°Did the dragon wake her up or something?¡± Ida turned to her sister, who shook her head and wrinkled her nose, moving her hands in answer. ¡°She says she left well before then. Couldn¡¯t stand the stench in your room anymore.¡± ¡°What stench?¡± he asked, then his eyes widened, and he whirled around to run back into the remains of the building. He breathed in deep through his nose, then doubled over coughing from the smoke and smell of the burnt and the burning. Once Vidar got himself under control, he could smell his surroundings in a more controlled manner. He¡¯d placed it under the bed and yes, the smell grew more pungent as he kicked through the rubble, digging down through the debris of two floors and a roof that¡¯d collapsed on top of it all. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Ida shouted from behind him, but he ignored her. It was in there somewhere. It had to be. The fallen angels or whoever it was that looked out for the people of Sveland couldn¡¯t be so cruel as to destroy it. That¡¯d be too much. Vidar bent down and dug out the rest of the ash, half-melted and twisted, but now somewhat cooled metal and other unidentifiable artifacts of destruction from the dragon¡¯s rampage. His nose stung with the sharp smell and his eyes teared up. There! Vidar grabbed it without thinking, pulling it out of the empty, warped metal bowl. The vinegar was long gone, evaporated, but the padlock remained. It was warm to the touch but undamaged. The padlock survived when almost everything else had perished. Siv and Ida peered over his shoulder. ¡°A lock? You¡¯re a strange one, aren¡¯t you, Vidar?¡± He nodded as he rubbed vigorously at its surface with the sleeve of his coat. Siv was unhurt and hale. For that he was grateful, but everything else was gone. He didn¡¯t have a thing to his name anymore. Nothing. Nothing except for his knowledge of runes and this padlock. The vinegar must¡¯ve worked, because the fabric of his coat turned reddish and brown as the stuff came right off. Tears welled up in his eyes, no doubt from the smoke and smell of vinegar, as pure gray and shining metal showed through the rust. A moment later, the symbol presented itself. The painted lines were long gone, but the groves dug into the metal remained. So simple. Three lines, with one going straight down and the other two coming in diagonally from the top to form a new runic character. Vidar thought back to that day in the snow. His anger at the world and his own circumstances as he threw his weight behind the shovel to break the padlock. It was all that stood between him and the warmth inside. He thought of the off-blue but almost fully transparent layer between the metal of his shovel and the rusted, half-broken-down lock. A shield. No, a barrier. He¡¯d discovered a barrier rune. A third new rune after hundreds, if not thousands, of years of people using nothing but warmth, light, and chill runes. The church couldn¡¯t have known. If they knew they were in possession of such an old thing, they would not have risked using it somewhere anyone might stumble upon it. Also, if they did know, the thing would¡¯ve been fully rejuvenated. ¡°What are you mumbling about?¡± Ida asked. ¡°It¡¯s time to leave, fool! If the winds change, who knows what the fire will do?¡± Vidar sucked in saliva as he stood, apparently having been salivating at the thought of this new rune in his possession. ¡°Oh, nothing. Yes, I agree. We should leave.¡± They stood looking at each other for a moment. ¡°Where can we go?¡± Vidar asked. Siv straightened her back and assumed an imperious look before moving her hands down from the top of her head, following her short hair before extending her fingers down to, Vidar assumed, indicate longer hair. ¡°You want us to go crawling back to Embla?¡± Ida asked. Siv shrugged, then hugged herself, shivering. ¡°Got a better idea?¡± Vidar asked. Ida crossed her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not going back to sewing. Let¡¯s find an empty house away from the fires.¡± ¡°You want to break into another house after what we¡¯ve been through today?¡± ¡°That was a fluke. We won¡¯t get caught this time.¡± She pointed uptown, at the keep. ¡°The guardsmen will have been called in to serve with the soldiers, or they¡¯ll be out helping with the fires. No one will know or care if we sleep somewhere warm tonight.¡± Siv imitated her sister, crossing her arms. She shook her head violently, pushing out her jaw to further show her dislike of Ida¡¯s idea. ¡°I know a place,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Oh? Where¡¯s that?¡± ¡°It smells a bit, but it¡¯s warm and no one will ever come looking for us down there. Also, there is no risk of the fires reaching us, no matter what happens on the surface.¡± A look of disgust flashed past Ida¡¯s face. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­?¡± He nodded, grinning. ¡°Shit goblins.¡± Chapter 27
It didn¡¯t take long to find an entrance free of fire and debris. ¡°You want us to climb down that?¡± Ida asked, peering down the dark ladder. ¡°Yes, and hurry up. We don¡¯t want anyone seeing us, or we¡¯ll have the entire city down there with us.¡± She grumbled but slid her feet down into the tight passageway, holding on to the ladder for dear life. Siv¡¯s set jaw showed an uncharacteristic determination despite the worry in her eyes. A brave girl, that. Vidar searched the vicinity while the two girls descended but didn¡¯t find anything he could use to make a kenaz rune. Without some light down there, Ida and Siv were liable to fall into the water. The same went for himself, he admitted. Light was an absolute necessity. Again, he cursed his bad luck with having all the runes on him taken and then those he kept in his room destroyed. Even thinking back, he did his utmost not to think of the many corpses in the jail. Of course, trying not to think about that scene utterly failed, and he imagined each guard broken, the light having gone out of their eyes. Most of all, he thought of the one he himself killed. In the end, it was an act of self-defense, but that fact did little to soothe his guilty conscience. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people in Halmstadt were dead or dying. Another one should not make much of a difference, but it did. To Vidar, it did. He held up his hands, looking at his palms. The blood on them was long gone, replaced by so much soot that he couldn¡¯t even see his own pale skin. People still screamed and wept all around him as Rat Town burned, but he could do nothing for them. Their terrible cries cut off when he closed the hatch. The tips of the fingers he¡¯d bitten to extract blood to write with back in the jail throbbed as he climbed down through darkness, the soot on his palms making it difficult to hold on to the rungs. ¡°This smell is putrid,¡± Ida said once they were all down. She made a retching sound, but he thought it was feigned. ¡°This is a water tunnel,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s the rushing sound you¡¯re hearing. The other sort is much, much worse.¡± ¡°Ew.¡± ¡°We need light,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Just wave your hands around and give us some magic light, then, witch.¡± He sighed. ¡°You know well it does not work like that. Do any of you have anything to write with?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± He really didn¡¯t want to ruin more of his fingers. Thankfully, he thought the three of them might just have what he¡¯d need. ¡°Use your nails to scrape off as much soot off yourselves as you can manage, then give me the grime.¡± ¡°Ew again.¡± ¡°We can stay down here in the dark if you prefer it.¡± ¡°No, no,¡± Ida grumbled. Siv let out an amused grunt. Accepting the small, greasy piles of dirt was rather disgusting, he had to admit, but it was a passable material to work with. A kenaz rune formed under his tired fingers. It was far from perfect and he almost ran out of soot before the circle finished, but smudging the rest around and around seemed to have done the trick. Vidar rejuvenated the rune and then triggered it, only allowing a trickle of essence to escape. His hand grew numb and the rest of his arm lost some heat, but it was nothing he couldn¡¯t handle. A glimmer of light appeared, and all three of them breathed a sigh of relief. He saw the rivulets their nails had done on their skin, pale lines on a black and gray backgrounds. Their faces were still covered in soot and Ida¡¯s eye bandage was completely dark. That couldn¡¯t be good. ¡°It¡¯s crowded here,¡± Ida complained. They¡¯d stayed in the narrow pathway near the ladder rather than heading out to the water, where it was a little colder. ¡°You¡¯re complaining a lot,¡± Vidar grumbled. She shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re right. What reason do I have to complain, with everything going so well?¡± Siv grinned, then opened her mouth and made a gesture. ¡°She¡¯s thirsty,¡± Ida said. ¡°Come to think of it, so am I. Parched.¡± Vidar pointed. ¡°There is plenty of water out there. We should clean ourselves a little and you can drink from it too. This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve been down in this very spot.¡± ¡°Such a well-traveled dummy,¡± Ida said, betraying the mocking words with an uptilt at the corners of her mouth. Vidar triggered the rune again, increasing its brightness so it would reach out onto the walkway. They made it out next to the raging river that was the city¡¯s water supply system. Siv¡¯s eyes were wide open in what he read as amazement. She got down on her knees and submerged her hands, gasping from the cold. ¡°So much water,¡± Ida said, joining her sister. They cleaned their faces as best they could, but then they both spluttered and winced. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°The water. It tastes wrong! Was this a trick? Did you trick us into drinking poop water?¡± Siv grunted in disappointment. ¡°No!¡± he said, going down to his knees. The smell only really struck him then. It smelled of the sea. Despite his better judgement, he tasted a small sip. Sea water. ¡°It¡¯s no trick,¡± Vidar said. ¡°It must be broken.¡± ¡°The water is broken?¡± He rinsed off his face anyway and cleaned his hands before standing. ¡°No. The thing that cleans the water is broken.¡± ¡°How come? Didn¡¯t you say the water was fine? What changed?¡± He cleared his throat and looked away, unable to keep his face from flushing. ¡°Did you break it?¡± Siv assumed a look of gentle disappointment, folding her arms and slowly shaking her head. ¡°Not on purpose! Well, we didn¡¯t realize what we were doing!¡± Ida raised an eyebrow. ¡°We?¡± ¡°Alvarn. His name is Alvarn. He¡¯s a friend.¡± ¡°Popular, are you?¡± Vidar shrugged. ¡°So this means we don¡¯t have any drinking water. We can¡¯t stay down here.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll manage tonight, then return to street level early tomorrow morning. I have to go to the thieves¡¯ guild, anyway.¡± A shocked expression broke out in Ida¡¯s face. ¡°You have to what?¡± ¡°They¡¯re paying me to teach rune craft to some of their people. A fellow named Yallander.¡± ¡°Right,¡± she said, her eyes narrowing. ¡°You spoke to that guard like you knew him.¡± Vidar shrugged again. ¡°Need the money. Now more than ever. If the guild chapter house hasn¡¯t gone up in flames, I figure that¡¯s my best bet to get us back on our feet.¡± ¡°Us?¡± He looked away, embarrassed. ¡°Well, you saved me from those guards and took me to Embla. Figure I owe you.¡± ¡°Hah!¡± she shouted, pointing at his face. ¡°You don¡¯t think you¡¯ve repaid us enough? You saved me today already!¡± ¡°Still,¡± he said. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s your money. But listen, the thieves¡¯ guild is bad news. You shouldn¡¯t go near them. It¡¯s not safe for you. Also, don¡¯t you think they might be a little pissed at you after what happened today?¡± Siv looked like she wanted to know more, but Ida kept talking, ignoring her sister¡¯s quizzical expression. ¡°And Yallander? He¡¯s no good.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°What kind of man do you think you have to be to run the guild chapter in Rat Town?¡± ¡°A strong one?¡± Ida scoffed but didn¡¯t press the issue. ¡°Tomorrow, then. We¡¯ll see if the dragon has razed the entire city or if the soldiers put it down. Either way, there¡¯ll be much money to be found in people¡¯s houses.¡± It was Vidar¡¯s turn to scoff. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you¡¯re going to return to breaking into homes? At a time like this? After what you¡¯ve just been through?¡± Siv grabbed Ida¡¯s arm and shook her head before flashing a bunch of signs with her hands. Ida put her hand over Siv¡¯s and glared at them both. ¡°I told you, I¡¯m going to create my own thieves¡¯ guild. It¡¯ll be greater than Yallander¡¯s rabble in no time. This is a perfect opportunity for us, Siv. We have to seize it.¡± ¡°The opportunity to loot burned houses?¡± ¡°You¡¯re teaching the thieves¡¯ guild. Don¡¯t act all high and mighty with me, little scribe.¡± She¡¯d used Lytir¡¯s moniker for him, even copying the man¡¯s floaty, almost dreamy way of speaking. ¡°Fine, do what you want,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Let¡¯s just get some sleep and hope Halmstadt isn¡¯t gone when we wake.¡± They were silent for a long while, then Vidar retreated into the smaller space near the light rune. He spoke as he walked. ¡°A dragon.¡± ¡°How is a dragon here?¡± Ida asked, following. He sat, leaning against the wall with his feet propped up uncomfortably against the opposite wall. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t see how it¡¯s possible. They¡¯re monsters from out of religion. Dragons aren¡¯t supposed to be real. I mean, they obviously are, since one is destroying Halmstadt as we speak, but I don¡¯t know what to make of it.¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He caught the sight of Siv¡¯s hands fluttering in the dark. ¡°Siv wonders if the angels are real as well.¡± Vidar hadn¡¯t thought of that implication. ¡°You think they are?¡± he asked. ¡°If the dragons are real, why not the angels?¡± ¡°They all died,¡± Vidar said. ¡°According to the religious texts, I mean.¡± ¡°They fell,¡± Ida corrected. Vidar sighed. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the same thing?¡± ¡°Who knows,¡± she replied. ¡°Even if they were real, they¡¯re not here now.¡± ¡°But the dragon is,¡± Ida said. ¡°Let¡¯s just sleep,¡± Vidar said. He didn¡¯t want to talk about any of it, not in his exhausted state. ¡°I¡¯ll dim the kenaz rune but keep it active. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll make some coin and find out what¡¯s going on up above. If the dragon is still alive, I¡¯ll find a way to destroy it for wrecking all my things.¡± ¡°Sure you will,¡± Ida said, sliding down along the wall next to her sister. The two of them held hands. Vidar closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He soon heard Ida¡¯s shuddering breath turn into weeping, and she mumbled to her sister about what she¡¯d been through. Again and again, she spoke of her lost eye, while Siv made soothing noises and stroked her sister¡¯s hair. At some point, he drifted off to sleep.
* * * ¡°Hey, Vidar!¡± ¡°Ow!¡± he said, blinking. ¡°You kicked me!¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t wake up!¡± Ida barked. His eyelids were heavy and his head swam. It didn¡¯t feel like he¡¯d slept long. ¡°What time is it?¡± he asked. ¡°How should we know?¡± Ida asked. ¡°It¡¯s morning, I think! Time to get out of here, anyway. Can¡¯t stand this place!¡± ¡°Fine,¡± he grumbled, struggling to get to his feet. ¡°Follow after me.¡± He left the kenaz rune as it was. It would run out of essence soon, in any case. Cold air rushed over the three of them as soon as he opened the hatch. It was still dark out. In fact, it was much darker than he¡¯d ever seen before, even with a new layer of snow covering most of everything. Not a single window held a lantern. The fires were gone too, either put out by the citizens of Andersburg or smothered by the snow. Vidar saw no one, heard nothing except Ida and Siv climbing up to stand beside him. ¡°It¡¯s so quiet,¡± Ida said, her voice low, as if afraid someone would hear her. The snow was still falling, which meant they were neither able to see stars nor a flying monster. ¡°You think they killed it?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Or it killed everyone and then left.¡± Usually, he didn¡¯t mind the silence of the early morning, but today it weighed on him with an ominous quality. ¡°They can¡¯t all be dead,¡± he said, trying, and failing even to his own ears, to sound confident. ¡°I¡¯m going to look around.¡± ¡°Inside people¡¯s houses?¡± he asked. ¡°Yes, Vidar, inside people¡¯s houses. Come on, Siv,¡± Ida said, grabbing Siv¡¯s hand. Siv shook her head and pulled her hand free. Ida grabbed it again. ¡°I said, let¡¯s go!¡± Siv stepped back from her sister and freed her hand to communicate in that strange language. ¡°I won¡¯t be taken again, Siv.¡± Siv gestured to Vidar and made more signs. ¡°What¡¯s she saying?¡± Vidar asked. Irritation flashed in Ida¡¯s face, then sadness followed by determination. ¡°Siv says she¡¯s too much of a frightened little girl to come with me. She¡¯s too good to be a thief and thinks my dream of running a thieves¡¯ guild is too daring.¡± He looked from sister to sister. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Siv. Come with me now or I¡¯m going without you,¡± Ida said, ignoring his question. Siv shook her head defiantly. ¡°You want to go with him?¡± Ida asked. She watched Siv¡¯s hands, then continued. ¡°No, I¡¯m not doing that. I¡¯m going my way.¡± Siv stomped her foot in frustration and let out a gravelly, questioning sound. ¡°Fine, go, then!¡± Ida shouted, her loud voice cutting through the silence. She stomped off, snow crunching under each step. ¡°Hold on!¡± Vidar shouted. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°Keep her!¡± Ida shouted back, briefly looking over her shoulder. Her one eye was brimming with tears. The cold was terrible. They¡¯d need to get moving. ¡°You want to come with me?¡± Vidar asked, his voice soft. Siv nodded, not bothering to wipe off the tears streaming down her face. Raising one finger, she drew two simple lines in the air, those of the kenaz rune. ¡°You want to learn rune crafting?¡± A nod. ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± he said with as much enthusiasm as he was able to muster, in an attempt to chase away those sad eyes and trembling lower lip. ¡°We¡¯ll be business partners!¡± What a mess. Andersburg, it turned out, was not dead. People moved about, some with direction to their steps, while others just moved back and forth listlessly as Vidar and Siv walked down one of the main streets of Rat Town. Around a third of all houses had succumbed to the fiery attacks from above or the subsequent raging fires. Many of the displaced had taken refuge in other houses for the night and were now spilling out onto the street. Some went to work. Some cried. A stunned sort of silence reigned, like people still couldn¡¯t believe what¡¯d happened. Vidar was barely able to wrap his head around it himself. Like many of the people they crossed paths with, he, once again, was without a home. A guardsman suddenly ran up the street, going in the opposite direction in an obvious hurry. At first, Vidar thought he was coming to arrest him, but he breathed a sigh of relief when the man passed him and Siv without a second glance. Gathering courage, he yelled after the man. ¡°What happened to the dragon?¡± The guard ignored his question and kept running, the leather in his armor creaking and the different bits of metal clanging together with each step. ¡°Gone, it is.¡± Vidar spun and came face to face with Erik, the boy from Embla¡¯s group who¡¯d he¡¯d gone grave digging with, and who¡¯d assisted in rescuing Ida. He smiled at Siv and blushed. ¡°Gone?¡± Vidar asked. Erik shrugged, then shivered. ¡°It left. Some of us went up to the keep to get a better look. They¡¯d shut the gates, but we climbed ol¡¯ Hag Hill and got us a good look at the thing.¡± ¡°Did the soldiers hurt it?¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± Erik said. His face was pale once his blushing subsided, and his voice took on a detached, monotone tone. ¡°I think they fired a bunch of those big arrow things at it, you know? From those great big wagons.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t know,¡± Vidar said. Arrows? Wagons? A small smile broke through on his face, despite the obvious shock following the terrible night before. ¡°I¡¯ve seen one up close once. The arrows are this big,¡± he said, holding his palms out to indicate the width of a person¡¯s thigh. ¡°But they didn¡¯t hurt the dragon?¡± ¡°Not as far as we could tell. The fire came, so we had to run.¡± Erik fell silent and looked to the ground. When he spoke again, his voice trembled so much the words were barely discernible. ¡°Nils. Nils wasn¡¯t fast enough.¡± Siv strode up in front of Erik and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing. His head lowered to her shoulder and his entire body shook with tears. Vidar stood beside them, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. He settled on awkwardly patting Erik¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What of Sven and the others?¡± ¡°Sven was well last I saw him,¡± Erik said once he¡¯d collected himself enough to raise his head from Siv¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The Rats¡¯ Nest is gone. Embla¡¯s house too. I don¡¯t know what happened to any of the others. There was just so much fire everywhere.¡± The first glimmer of purple cast on the cloud-filled sky ahead whispered of dawn. Vidar was late. ¡°I have to go. Siv, why don¡¯t you stay with Erik for now and I¡¯ll meet you later? Find out what¡¯s happening in the city and meet me around noon by the church?¡± Siv nodded, her arms still around Erik. Alone, he could walk faster to get some warmth into his bones. The thieves¡¯ guild stood untouched by the ravages of fire. They hadn¡¯t reached the southernmost part of Andersburg and the street looked no worse for wear. He stood before the building, unsure if he should head in since he detected no signs of life. Rather than try his luck in there, he decided it would be in his best interest to continue teaching like nothing had happened, so he went to the nearby house and entered. None of the students waited for him. As far as he could tell, no one had been in there since he left. All the supplies remained in their neat piles. Vidar immediately dove for them and pocketed bottles of ink and brushes to go with them. Once satisfied with his haul, Vidar drew a sowilo rune and rejuvenated his creation by draining essence from his left foot and leg. He immediately triggered it and breathed a sigh of relief as warmth billowed from the piece of paper he drew on, before hurrying to put his sock and boot back on. The entire leg tingled, but he could still move his toes. He tore another piece of paper into pieces and was just finished crafting a few other runes when someone spoke behind him. ¡°Vidar.¡± Vidar stood and spun, his left arm flopping, limp and useless at his side from the rejuvenation of the additional runes. ¡°Y-yallander,¡± he stammered, hating how his voice sounded like he¡¯d just been caught doing something he shouldn¡¯t. The chapter leader was not alone. Ren stood at his side, a hulking mass of muscles and, by the look of him, anger. He wore the armor of a guardsman. ¡°To think we spent the better part of a very tumultuous night searching, only for you to turn up on your own right here. Imagine my surprise when a spotter reported your presence in this building of mine.¡± Unable to form the cheerful expression he wanted, Vidar settled on a casual, nonchalant smile as he stood, keeping all the weight on the one leg that would support him. ¡°A dragon won¡¯t stop me from teaching.¡± Yallander stepped up close, towering over Vidar, more than a full head taller. The old brown robe he wore around his body suddenly looked ominous, like a death shroud. ¡°S-speaking of which, where are the students?¡± The blank expression on Yallander¡¯s face finally betrayed the feelings beneath the facade, and it showed rage, terrible rage. Vidar¡¯s cheek sang with a flash of pain and his weight shifted to his numb leg. Vidar tumbled to the floor with a thud. The shock from being slapped was quickly eclipsed by hurt from old injuries, and he grunted and rose to his knees. Yallander put his boot against Vidar¡¯s shoulder and shoved him back to the floor. ¡°Do you know what your little stunt yesterday cost us? Can you even comprehend the work we¡¯ve put into infiltrating the guardsmen? Years and years, only for them to start asking questions, investigating the guards.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know!¡± Vidar shouted, with anger rather than fear in his chest. ¡°All I did was save my friend!¡± ¡°Friend?¡± Yallander spat. ¡°That bitch girl of a thief? Don¡¯t you think I know of her? Of her ambitions? She¡¯ll talk about her aspirations to anyone who would lend her an ear!¡± Hearing him speak like that only served to stoke the anger, and Vidar stood and shoved a finger in Yallander¡¯s face. ¡°Keep talking like that and we¡¯ll see if you still have a teacher!¡± The anger displayed by Yallander turned cold in a flash, and he straightened, looking down his nose at him. ¡°You think you¡¯re in a position where your choice matters even a little?¡± ¡°You think you can force me?¡± ¡°You think I can¡¯t?¡± Vidar glanced at Ren, who¡¯d now positioned himself in front of the door. The windows were shut tight or barricaded where the glass was broken. A short sword hung by Ren¡¯s side and who knew what sort of weapons Yallander might carry underneath those billowing robes. ¡°It would be in both our best interests if we continue with our agreed-upon arrangement,¡± Vidar said, pushing down his anger and fear both. Neither would serve him in this situation. ¡°You have no way of keeping me locked up. Even if you did, who¡¯s to say I¡¯d go along with teaching anyone?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll do as you¡¯re told!¡± Ren barked. Yallander raised a hand to silence his henchman. ¡°Now, now. It appears you have very little experience in dealing with the guild. I won¡¯t need to keep you tied to me with shackles or rope. You¡¯ll stay willingly.¡± It was getting tense now. Dangerous. Vidar reached under his coat and triggered one of the runes he¡¯d just crafted, finally having the use of his arm again. ¡°No, I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°Failure to comply will have dire consequences.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t hurt me,¡± Vidar said. ¡°I¡¯d still need the ability to teach.¡± Yallander sighed. ¡°Since you are daft beyond my previous comprehension, let me spell it out for you. Do as I say or we¡¯ll torture, then kill, everyone you know. The thief girl is already marked after yesterday¡¯s catastrophe, but there are others. That student scribe who¡¯s been teaching you? The mistress of that halfway house for poor hoodlums? Your dear little sister, even?¡± Vidar¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Oh, yes. I know all about your family and friends. Information is our most valuable commodity, not silver, or even gold.¡± Pent-up energy surged through Vidar¡¯s limbs as his head spun with possible ways of getting out of this trap they¡¯d set for him. He had to get out of there, needed to stop whoever they¡¯d set after Ida. ¡°I won¡¯t force you to kneel, Vidar, but know that the well-being of the rest of your friends rests on your behavior from this point on. This will still be a most lucrative arrangement for you. As long as you stay within the confines of the thieves¡¯ guild, I will honor the fee promised to you.¡± Kneel. Yallander even mentioning the word was like a boot pushing his face down into the muck. ¡°How long?¡± he asked through gritted teeth. ¡°A year, perhaps. We¡¯ll see how this fair city of ours settles down,¡± Yallander said, a self-satisfied grin on his pompous face. ¡°Who is going after my friend?¡± Vidar asked, glancing at Ren. ¡°Is it you?¡± ¡°That is none of your concern,¡± Yallander said, but Vidar had seen the look on Ren¡¯s face. It was, indeed, the one who¡¯d brought him before the thieves¡¯ guild in the first place who would do the deed. Vidar glanced down to the floor to make sure, then shook his head and spoke in a cool, detached voice that definitely wasn¡¯t mirrored on his inside. ¡°No. If you give me your word you won¡¯t go after Ida or anyone else, I¡¯ll agree to stay with our old arrangement. If not, I¡¯m leaving.¡± ¡°So be it,¡± Yallander said, assuming a look of what appeared to be genuine disappointment as he waved Ren forward. ¡°Since you have no care for your loved ones, admirable in a way, we will see if Ren here can¡¯t help provide you with some motivation that¡¯ll allow you to see reason.¡± The imposing henchman stepped forward with surprising speed for someone with his bulk. He swung his fist just as Vidar threw himself to the side. Yallander leaned away from the brute to move out of his path. Neither of them was quick enough to react when Vidar pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, holding it forward in his palm, pointed at their feet. Vidar screamed in exhilarating anger and with a deep fear in his chest as he triggered the stakra rune, afraid his gambit would not save him. The thrusting force swept at Ren¡¯s feet, but that was not its intended target. Thankfully, it brushed past and continued on to strike at the floor, to strike at the sowilo rune right beneath their feet. Trying to destroy the lock in the jail cells had taught him a new trick. The explosion that followed sent Vidar crashing into the wall with a thud that sent his ears ringing and his vision blurry. Even as the room caught on fire, the walls and ceiling, even the floor, spun around him. Chapter 28
Vidar saw no trace of Yallander or Ren, but the blood and gore all over the floor and across the translucent, bluish barrier between himself and the explosion told him everything he needed to know. He¡¯d killed again. These deaths, however, would not burden his conscience. This, he knew, as he stumbled out of the building before the flames claimed him. The rune from the padlock worked. He¡¯d been almost certain it would, especially after crafting it, but it was a relief to know with certainty. Without it, he would be part of the mess inside that building, another certainty. Figuring out the finer details of how to work the rune was for another time. Now, he rendered it inactive. He needed to get away. Stumbling through the snow, he briefly considered using this new technique, if you could call it that, of destroying sowilo runes to blow up the thieves¡¯ guild chapter house, but decided against it. Without knowing who was in there, he couldn¡¯t be certain he only reached the sort of people who would come after his friends. With Yallander and Ren both dead and missing, hopefully the guild¡¯s claim over him would disappear with them. It gnawed at him how he couldn¡¯t be sure. Logically, the guild would approach him first again, rather than go straight to killing. If not for wanting him to pay for what he¡¯d done, then to know what actually happened. Once the building burned down, no clues to their whereabouts would remain. In the end, certainty was impossible. Vidar would notify everyone he knew to sleep with one eye open for a while. How to deal with informing his family might prove the bigger hurdle. Vidar stopped dead in his tracks. What if they were already gone? And what of Alvarn? One thing leaving no room for doubt was the abrupt end to his lucrative teaching position, but the clatter of coins would have to wait. First, he needed to make sure everyone escaped the attack from the dragon. His father¡¯s house stood untouched, as did most of that entire neighborhood. From what Vidar saw, Andersburg suffered far more than his old part of town. Sneaking up to one of the windows, he heard a snippet of his mother speaking. Just the tone of her voice. The words themselves were unintelligible. The shrill tone spoke of a distraught temperament, but not catastrophically so. They were all alive, he surmised. Slinking back a few streets over, he made sure no one was looking as he pulled out the padlock with the barrier rune. The symbol was intact enough for him to provide the rune with a modicum of essence. That done, Vidar slapped the symbol with the palm of his hand in an attempt to activate the rune without triggering it. To his astonishment, that thin barrier made a brief appearance. ¡°How is this possible?¡± Vidar asked the empty air. It did not answer. He scanned his surroundings again before slapping the padlock a few more times. By the fifth slap, the essence ran out, and the barrier stopped appearing. Closing his eyes, he saw the empty circle. Essence drained, but he did not have to trigger it. That was how it¡¯d stopped his advance when he found the padlock by the church. The revelation pointed to the priesthood not knowing what treasure they used to keep the wagon of bodies safe¡ªand the hallways leading to that circle. Vidar shuddered, having successfully suppressed the memory of that room somewhat. The question of what those religious bastards were doing down there still remained, and he would need to get to the bottom of it at some point, but not now. Now, there were bigger questions to be answered. This rune worked without triggering it. Did that make it intelligent, or just somehow infused with intention? With no way to answer that, Vidar wondered if triggering it manually, like he¡¯d done back with Yallander, made any difference, or if it just served to slowly drain its essence. Another question without an answer. What he did know was how this discovery fundamentally transformed the uses of the rune. With this, you didn¡¯t need to trigger it as a reaction to some incoming attack. The rune would slumber until called upon by circumstance. A true miracle, and one he intended to use without pause. Clambering up onto the roof of his father¡¯s house, especially without making too much noise, in the fresh snow proved the challenge. Vidar wormed himself across the flat surface until he reached the spot he thought would be located right above his little sister¡¯s bedroom. Using nothing but his bare cold hands, he began removing snow until he hit stone. Shuddering, he brought out some of the supplies he¡¯d stolen from the thieves¡¯ guild to paint a barrier rune. Once satisfied, he encircled it and transferred a bit of essence from his left hand into the circle in his mind¡¯s eye, slapping it once to make sure it would trigger on its own. Vidar nodded to himself, satisfied. He didn¡¯t know if it would stop dragon fire, but it had to be better than nothing. His father could burn for all he cared, but not his sister. He wouldn¡¯t allow her to go like that. Even if the rune only worked for a moment, it gave them a better chance of escaping the confines of the house before it burned down all around them. Since it was constructed from stone, it would hold better than many others, but he¡¯d seen other stone houses where the building materials had started to melt. He didn¡¯t know fire could do that. The dragon¡¯s flames must¡¯ve been impossibly hot. Before leaving, he took the opportunity to craft a few warmth runes on pieces of paper to give himself some much-needed warmth. Just as he was about to descend, the front door to his father¡¯s house opened and the man himself exited. He was clothed from head to toe in what looked like fur. ¡°New coat,¡± Vidar grumbled to himself, too low for his voice to carry as he peeked over the edge of the roof. His father looked around with that dispassionate gaze of his, then disappeared up the street. Vidar clambered down and disappeared in another direction. The barrier rune would offer some protection against a dragon, he hoped, or any other unlikely attack from above, but it would do little to stop a thief¡¯s knife hand. It was all he could do for her at this time. With his sister relatively safe and unharmed, he set out to find Alvarn, his friend and partner in crime. On his way over there he thought of the several pieces of paper with sowilo runes on them resting against his chest, arms, and hip. It was not the safest way of carrying them around, he now knew, after what he¡¯d learned escaping the jail cell and then confronting Yallander. The alternative was to go cold, and that was no alternative at all at this point. Vidar would need to find better, more permanent crafting materials soon. It wouldn¡¯t do to go up in an explosion of his own making just because someone bumped into him and ripped the small pieces of paper. Metal would be best, carved grooves for lines that would withstand tampering. He¡¯d also need some sort of weapon if he was going up against a dragon, the stupid fallen angels be blessed. He hadn¡¯t been boasting or talking out of rage. He did intend to see that flying beast gone from this world. Not because of what it had done to the town. While it was a vile and terrible act, it could not compare to destroying Vidar¡¯s room and all his possessions in this world. Petty, perhaps. But he didn¡¯t care. Didn¡¯t care at all. With the image of himself gloriously fighting and slaying a dragon, Vidar didn¡¯t notice the obstacle in his way, and he stumbled as his foot caught. For once, he didn¡¯t fall into the snow. He stopped and turned to see it was a person. He, a relatively young man, sat on the ground with his back against a burned-out husk of a house. A layer of snow had formed over the thin blanket he¡¯d draped over himself. The young man¡¯s face was pale, his lips blue, and his stare glassy and empty. Vidar hunched down. ¡°You can¡¯t stay out here in the cold.¡± The man opened his mouth, but no words came. His empty stare didn¡¯t change. Vidar looked around. Everyone, and there were quite a few people out and about by now, ignored the man under his blanket. Terror gripped their faces. Haunted looks of despair. They had their own problems to deal with. A clump of people had gathered around a fire someone managed to start. Vidar saw a few women gathering snow in a metal bucket before bringing it over to the flames to melt it for drinking water. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much help your neighbors can be,¡± Vidar said, turning back to the man. He still didn¡¯t get any response. Those pale blue eyes unsettled him. This man wasn¡¯t the only one displaced by last night¡¯s events, but Vidar hadn¡¯t stumbled over any other. Grumbling, he removed the warmth rune hidden by his hip and rejuvenated it a little more before hiding it under the man¡¯s blanket. It would keep going for a few hours. But who knew if that would make any difference. It was something, at least. Before leaving, Vidar brushed the snow off the blanket. He squeezed the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t rip that rune.¡± As he was about to leave, he stopped himself and turned back. ¡°Unless you want to leave this world.¡± The man¡¯s eyes flickered then. Vidar thought he might be coming to, but he didn¡¯t stick around to see. There was nothing more he could do for him, anyway. As he left Andersburg behind, the devastation lessened with fewer homes and places of business burned to the ground. With that, opportunities arose. Sure, it was of the utmost importance to learn of Alvarn¡¯s fate after that horrid night, but some coin in his pocket was a close second. Without proper supplies to craft decent runes, all he was able to offer was rejuvenation. Thankfully, as it turned out, scribes to perform that service were few and far between. Knocking on a few doors rendered immediate results, and the first people who let him into their home, a young man with the look of some sort of scholar and his very pregnant wife, didn¡¯t care in the least if he carried the rune scribes¡¯ guild¡¯s writ or not. ¡°My wife should not be cold,¡± the man said, as if quoting someone he viewed as a medical authority. Vidar didn¡¯t care much but did find a sense of satisfaction at the pregnant woman¡¯s sigh of relief after he rejuvenated a sowilo rune in their bedroom, and the man whose name didn¡¯t register with Vidar gave him a firm handshake after restoring function to a kenaz rune in his study. That couple knew others, who in turn knew even more people of means with need of his services. Soon, he found himself spent of essence to the point it was a little difficult to move his arms or walk. They¡¯d made him promise to return, indicating that the rune scribes¡¯ guild chapter house was in disarray. His pockets jangled with the silver and copper coins he¡¯d made in the span of a few hours. Vidar took the time to enter one of the few shops still open to purchase a coin purse and a knife that came with a sheath, along with some stale bread from a nearby bakery who hadn¡¯t been able to start up their ovens to make fresh product. With food in his belly and some in a cloth bag for Siv, quite a bit of coin in his new coin purse, and a weapon, if a dinky one, things were looking up. Only then did he realize what it might¡¯ve meant when his new customers spoke of the rune guild being in disarray. He hurried his steps and was quite warm and sweaty when he reached Alvarn¡¯s home, the tall, imposing stone building that housed the scribes. It stood untouched. Vidar breathed a sigh of relief, then approached a line of young men who were obviously student scribes. Alvarn was not among them. ¡°What is the holdup? Just let us go out there already,¡± one of them said to the group. ¡°Not very efficient to turn up at a burned-down house, is it?¡± another asked. A third, scared-looking girl with mousy features and dark brown hair spoke in a low voice. ¡°What if the dragon returns?¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for Alvarn,¡± Vidar told the first student to notice him, one of the older boys. ¡°Try the library,¡± came the reply. They didn¡¯t stop walking when he spoke to them. ¡°Where¡¯s that?¡± A young woman with hair like the dragon¡¯s fire tied into a multitude of small braids sneered, her voice shrill and off-putting. ¡°The fat merchant always has his nose in one book or another!¡± Vidar put on his best unimpressed look. ¡°Isn¡¯t the point of students to learn? ¡°Where is the library?¡± he added, before any of the scribe runts could answer. The one he¡¯d initially addressed pointed to the chapter house. ¡°Basement.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re not getting in there, vagrant!¡± the redheaded woman said, her nose turned up and wrinkled, as if smelling something foul as the group walked off. Vidar waited for them to leave, then lifted an arm to sniff. The girl wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. Another reason to splurge on some new clothes once he found a new room that¡¯d let him stay for cheap. Well, him and Siv, he supposed. Vidar groaned, thinking of how much pricier it would be to find a room with two beds and enough room for two. Hopefully, she¡¯d take to learning rune crafting quickly, to contribute. That¡¯d be nice. If he then expanded and brought on more people, profits would eventually soar. The guild chapter house loomed above him, dark and ancient, as if daring him to build up business around illegal rune crafting. Those bastards posed a problem, but one for another day. Horrible or no, the redhaired girl¡¯s point of Vidar being denied entry turned out to be correct this time as well. No matter how much he banged on the door, no one came to answer. Defeated, he settled on Alvarn being fine for the time being, and he walked briskly along the left side, heading for the church to meet up with Siv. Vidar¡¯s eye caught something he hadn¡¯t spotted before, a safety rail crafted from metal jutting out through the snow. It hid a set of stairs down, leading to a small gate below street level in the guild house¡¯s foundation. ¡°Interesting,¡± he mused, looking up and down the street. People milled about, but he saw none of the telltale robes of rune scribes. No one spared him a second glance, even after he stepped down to the gate. It was locked. As he considered, and dismissed, the idea of using another exploding sowilo rune to gain entrance, that would without a doubt attract attention, the lock clicked as someone unlocked it from the other side. It swung open, and a bunch of young rune scribes emerged in a single-file line. Some glanced at him where he was squished between the door and stairwell, but most ignored him or didn¡¯t even notice his presence. At least twenty of them walked past, none of them Alvarn, before the door began swinging shut. Vidar grabbed it and pulled. Someone cried out in surprise and when Vidar stepped out from behind the door, he saw an old man lying face-first in the snow, unmoving. After making sure this old man was still breathing, he grabbed the key and reached up to hide it under the snow blanketing the street right beside the stairs. A few people glanced his way, probably having heard the old man. Vidar waved to them. ¡°Someone get some help for this man!¡± That quickly made everyone turn their attention to their own affairs. So much for helping your fellow citizens. Vidar stepped over the old man¡¯s body and into the chapter house of the rune scribes¡¯ guild. This had to be the basement, he figured, since it was below ground level. Unadorned hallways broke out into small rooms with tables and benches lit by kenaz runes overhead. It was warm enough that he opened his coat and rendered his own sowilo runes inactive. Paintings of all shapes and sizes depicting old men and women, probably prominent, dead rune scribes, hung on the walls, and he was surprised to see carpets on most floors. He found a chamber with piles of books on a table and a couple of robes slung over a heavy-looking wooden chair in the corner. Thinking it would help him blend in, he grabbed one of the robes and put it on over his coat. It was much too big, so he removed it and went for the second. Too small. The third fit him perfectly. His disguise was just in time, too. When he continued down the hallway, he met students. Robed as he was, they glanced in his direction, but no one greeted Vidar or stopped him to question his legitimacy. A stairwell appeared, and he had the option to go up or down. Vidar continued downward. He¡¯d seen nothing like a library on this floor, which probably meant he hadn¡¯t gone deep down enough yet. Wondering if he was at the same depth as the underground water system yet, he stepped down into a small room that only served as a platform for the stairs. Beyond that first small room was the library. In Vidar¡¯s imagination, it¡¯d been a huge chamber with row after row of books reaching all the way to a ceiling impossibly far overhead, with hundreds of students hunched over ancient tomes. This was not that. Not being all that tall and gangly, Vidar walked upright without issue, but quite a few of those down there with him walked with a stoop to not bump into the ceiling. There was lots and lots of shelving, to be sure, and students too, but it was a pitiful display in comparison to the imagined grandeur. The shelves followed the walls all around the chamber, but nearly two-thirds of them were just empty space. Lengthwise, it must¡¯ve been as large as the entire chapter house, but it was narrow to the point of feeling like you were in a somewhat widened corridor. Pillars spaced evenly apart all along the middle of the room didn¡¯t help either, and students were required to squeeze past the haphazardly placed tables to get anywhere. Alvarn sat at one of the tables not far from the entrance. Even with his craned neck and face hovering over the book in front of him, that mop of hair and the glasses threatening to slip off his nose were immediately recognizable. ¡°Alvarn!¡± Vidar shouted. Alvarn looked up from his book, startled. The problem was, every other single person in the entire library did the same, and they did not look happy. Several of them shushed him as he waded through tables, shelves, and pillars to reach his friend, who stood with a smile. Then Alvarn glanced over Vidar¡¯s shoulder and sat back down to start reading again without a word. Vidar frowned and turned to look back over his shoulder. The old man who¡¯d passed out in the snow stood there, finger pointed right at Vidar, his robes wet and his other hand pressing a cloth to his bloody nose. ¡°Intruder!¡± So much for a disguise. Vidar smiled sheepishly as two large guards walked up to grab his arms. ¡°I just wanted to stay somewhere warm,¡± he lied. The two guards half carried him out of the library and up the stairs as the old man followed, hurling insults. ¡°Scoundrel! Miscreant! Thief!¡± ¡°Hey! I¡¯m no thief,¡± Vidar complained. ¡°You stole the robe you¡¯re wearing!¡± He winced. The old man did have a point there. The guards walked him back to the entrance he¡¯d snuck through and tossed him out without as much as a beating. All in all, it was probably the most pleasant manhandling Vidar had ever experienced. Chapter 29
¡°And don¡¯t you dare ret¡ª¡± the old man shrieked as the door closed, cutting him off. Vidar brushed off the snow, then stowed the robe that they, for some reason, hadn¡¯t taken from him, in the cloth sack with the bread. The key, he retrieved and placed next to his other one. With this, he could absolutely return once things settled down a little. If he found a way to read without so much trouble, that library provided information and lore usually only reserved for guilded scribes. Valuable, to be sure. Not to steal, but to learn from. He was about to head to the church when a familiar voice called out. Alvarn came running from over by the front door, breathing hard and with a red, bordering on blue, flush in his face that made him appear deeply ill. ¡°Not much of a runner, are you?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Good to see you didn¡¯t succumb to dragon fire.¡± Alvarn leaned over and propped his hands against his knees, panting hard for a moment, taking deep, trembling breaths. The cold made him cough, adding to the picture of someone on the verge of some illness-induced collapse. ¡°Didn¡¯t. Even. See. It,¡± Alvarn said, his breathing steadying a little. Even in that state, Vidar could read the regret in his friend¡¯s voice. ¡°Very few did, I¡¯d imagine. It was dark out, so all I saw was a dark blob in the sky,¡± Vidar said, correcting himself a brief pause later. ¡°Except for when it breathed fire, of course.¡± ¡°You¡¯re well too, then, I take it?¡± Alvarn asked, straightening his back to stand upright now that he¡¯d regained control of his breath. Vidar felt his own face sour. ¡°The blasted thing burned down my room and all my things.¡± Then he brightened. ¡°But I¡¯ve got good news!¡± ¡°Me too!¡± Alvarn said, speaking before Vidar was able to continue. ¡°Stakra!¡± ¡°The thrust rune?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°That¡¯s right! I found an old book with brief explanations of ancient languages. The thrust rune was among them in a language called Elder Futhark.¡± He furrowed his brow. ¡°Hold on. How did you know what I was talking about?¡± ¡°My friend told me its name. Stakra.¡± A look of disbelief warred with interest on Alvarn¡¯s face. ¡°Your friend knows the language?¡± ¡°I suppose so. He might not be what I thought he was, exactly.¡± ¡°And what was that?¡± ¡°A vagrant,¡± Vidar said. ¡°A half-crazy vagrant.¡± ¡°And what is he?¡± Vidar shrugged. ¡°Not sure, if I¡¯m being honest. That book you found. Does it describe the rune on the spinning thing?¡± Alvarn shook his head and pulled a book out of his coat pocket. ¡°It isn¡¯t in here for some reason.¡± It was a small thing, no bigger than his palm, and the text was so cramped Vidar couldn¡¯t make it out. ¡°How can you read that?¡± ¡°Like this,¡± Alvarn said, holding it open, pressed again his nose. Vidar couldn¡¯t help but laugh. It felt good. He couldn¡¯t remember when he¡¯d done that last. He pulled out one of the pictures of the new rune, the barrier. ¡°Is this in there?¡± ¡°Hold on, I think so,¡± Alvarn said, flipping the pages of his little book. Then his eyes widened, and he stopped to peer up at Vidar over the rim. ¡°Is that a?¡ª?¡± ¡°A new rune,¡± Vidar confirmed. Alvarn wet his lips. ¡°What does it do? Where did you find it? How is this possible?¡± ¡°See if you can find it in your book,¡± Vidar teased. ¡°Right,¡± Alvarn said, diving back in to scan the pages. Finally, he found what he was looking for. ¡°Here!¡± he half shouted with excitement. ¡°What does it say?¡± ¡°Algiz,¡± Alvarn said. ¡°It is described with a meaning near enough to either protection or¡­¡± He turned the page. ¡°Elk.¡± ¡°Elk? Like with the antlers?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think it does anything with elk, but I haven¡¯t tried. This rune,¡± Vidar said, leaning in close to Alvarn to share, ¡°is a barrier, like a shield.¡± ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡± ¡°And that¡¯s not the best part,¡± Vidar said, excited. ¡°No?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to trigger it.¡± Alvarn¡¯s excitement drained away from one moment to the next and he stood there, dumbfounded. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It does all that on its own. Look!¡± Vidar was about to slap the piece of paper, but then looked around at the thickening mill of people. They were all moving in the same direction. ¡°Hey, where is everyone going?¡± ¡°The church is open today for prayer and to distribute food and water to those affected by last night¡¯s attack. I¡¯m going there with almost all the students soon to hand out runes as well. After that, the steward of Halmstadt is going to make some sort of speech at the steps of the keep. I¡¯m guessing all of Halmstadt will be there to listen.¡± ¡°Oh. I¡¯ll have to go listen to that.¡± ¡°More importantly, tell me more about the algiz rune.¡± ¡°Algiz¡­¡± Vidar tasted the word. ¡°It¡¯s already saved me once. Did you know that sowilo runes explode if you destroy them while they¡¯re triggered?¡± Alvarn sighed and slowly shook his head. ¡°Yes, of course I know that. Everyone knows that.¡± ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t,¡± Vidar said stubbornly. ¡°I¡¯ve used the stakra rune to protect myself, too, to push people away.¡± That seemed to impress Alvarn, who nodded to himself, thinking. ¡°That¡¯s a good use for it.¡± ¡°It can be pretty powerful, so you have to be careful.¡± ¡°Did someone get hurt?¡± Alvarn asked. The horrible scene with the dead guardsman outside Vidar¡¯s cell played out before his inner eye again, and he shuddered. ¡°You could say that.¡± ¡°I hope they¡¯ll recover,¡± Alvarn said, before looking down at the algiz rune again. ¡°A weapon and a shield, then.¡± ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Have you found anything about the other rune?¡± ¡°Nothing anywhere. Even made a few careful inquires in the guild, but no one knows anything.¡± ¡°You think that¡¯s wise? You¡¯re not telling anyone about our runes, are you?¡± ¡°Of course not. But, Vidar, they¡¯re not our runes. They belong to everyone, that¡¯s the whole point. I mean, you¡¯re teaching thieves!¡± ¡°Not anymore.¡± ¡°Good. Wouldn¡¯t want anyone getting hurt.¡± Vidar decided against telling him of how he intended to teach Siv and then possibly others. ¡°I found a use for the stakra rune as well,¡± Alvarn said, waving for Vidar to follow him down the steps and back to the door so they were better hidden from the ever-increasing stream of people meandering uptown. ¡°What is it?¡± Vidar asked as he hunched down, facing the side of the stairwell. Alvarn didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he withdrew a wooden disc with a stakra rune on it. After turning it around so the rune was at the bottom, he placed a ball of snow he¡¯d squeezed together on top. Then he triggered it. Vidar gasped as the disc stayed in the air, hovering above the ground with the snowball on top. It only managed about a second before tipping over and spilling the ball to the ground. That made the rune change its angle, and the disc flew toward the door, thudding against it before dropping to the ground. ¡°It flew. Like a bird,¡± Vidar breathed, his mouth hanging open. Alvarn held up the wooden disc. ¡°My first attempt was with a far-too-powerful triggering. It flew straight into the wall and broke. Thankfully, stakra runes do not explode.¡± Excitement surged through Vidar¡¯s chest. ¡°Have you tried it?¡± ¡°Tried what?¡± Alvarn asked, perturbed. ¡°To put them under your shoes to fly, of course!¡± he shouted, immediately regretting it. He peered up over the stairwell, but no one seemed to have heard him, or they didn¡¯t care. ¡°To fly,¡± he whispered. Alvarn let out a small laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t have a death wish.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Maybe with this, I can kill that dragon,¡± Vidar mused. ¡°What?!¡± Vidar raced up the steps, turning. ¡°This is good. I can feel it. We¡¯re on the verge of something big here. Something grand. I have to go to the church now, but don¡¯t forget, don¡¯t tell the guild!¡± ¡°You¡¯re crazy,¡± Vidar heard Alvarn mutter as he shook his head and looked down at the stakra rune in his hand. The crowds thickened as he approached the church. People of all sorts mingled in the gray and brown mass of Halmstadt¡¯s citizens. A mother pulled two children along, talking of happy things and keeping a smile on her face that Vidar saw did not reach her worried eyes. Walking past them, a scuffle broke out between two men who quarreled over some unknown slight. Most people Vidar slid past smelled of smoke and fire, their clothes covered in soot. Many eyed his cloth bag, but he hurried along before someone might think to question why he wasn¡¯t sharing. Too many of them. Far too many to help. With so many displaced people, the square around the church was packed, brimming with the hungry and the cold. Vidar made his way through the crowd, looking for Siv without luck. People were screaming for help, pleading with the closed gate into the church. Many were praying, something he hadn¡¯t seen in a long while, and a few were even on their knees in the icy slush. The side door finally came into view and Vidar sidestepped a crying young man, the tears creating clear streaks down his soot-blackened face. A new lock secured the door he¡¯d broken in through. Making sure no one took interest in him, he slapped the metal surface. No barrier. To Vidar, this was another clue pointing to the priesthood not knowing what sort of lock had kept their door safe. They didn¡¯t know. The secret was safe. Over the murmur of the crowd, their crying and their pleading, the squeaking hinges of the large gate leading into the church barely made a sound. Still, all mouths fell silent except for the small children, and all eyes turned to what they hoped would be their salvation. The smell of fresh bread wafted out from within the church walls. Only when the gate was fully open did someone emerge. A priest, not the same man who¡¯d overseen the grave digging, stepped outside and raised his arms to speak in a booming voice that carried over the heads of the silent onlookers. ¡°In these trying days, when the demonic, winged creatures have returned, the church will provide for its flock. The fallen angels will shelter and nurture. Come one, come all, for we have food. We have water.¡± Shouting erupted as the crowd pressed forward. An elbow struck the side of Vidar¡¯s head as some rough-looking laborer used his bulk to progress past those around him. A sense of being carried along, as if by water, rose in Vidar. His feet barely touched the ground anymore, and it was getting difficult to take deep breaths. Frenzied men and women wanted nothing more than to move forward, to reach the entrance and the promise of food and shelter. ¡°No,¡± Vidar muttered. ¡°Let me out!¡± He used his own elbows to create some room around his chest. It allowed him to draw in a breath and turn around. Those behind him kept pushing but broke around him. Every few moments, enough space formed, granting Vidar a step in the opposite direction. Soon, he was out of the worst of it. Citizens who¡¯d lost everything were still arriving at the square from all directions. Someone grabbed his sleeve and Vidar pulled free, looking to head north. The hand returned and Vidar spun to give whoever it was a stern talking to. It was Siv. ¡°There you are,¡± he said. Erik stood right by her side. His eyes were red and puffy, but he looked somewhat collected. Vidar nodded to a side street, and they left the square and walked until they found a place of relative quiet. ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild was a poor idea, but I think we¡¯ll be fine. Is Ida around here somewhere?¡± ¡°We haven¡¯t seen her,¡± Erik said. Vidar glanced up at him, then back to Siv. ¡°You and Ida both might be in danger from them, so best if you keep out of sight for a while.¡± A look of fright passed over her face but was soon replaced by determination. She nodded, then gestured back toward the church. She put her palms together and rested her head against them, closing her eyes. ¡°No,¡± Vidar said. ¡°I don¡¯t trust those people. Besides, it¡¯ll be full to the point of becoming dangerous.¡± He glanced around to make sure no one paid them any mind, then withdrew the pouch of silver and removed a few coins before handing it over to Siv. ¡°Can you find us a room to rent?¡± She nodded, then glanced at Erik. ¡°He can come too, I suppose. Try to find a place big enough for us with room to craft runes. With the whole city in turmoil, this is a good opportunity for us to get ahead.¡± ¡°I, uh, I don¡¯t want anything to do with witch things,¡± Erik said, swallowing hard and scratching at his neck. ¡°I¡¯m not looking to have any graves dug, and I¡¯m not Embla. You¡¯re not staying for free.¡± Siv frowned, but Vidar did not relent. ¡°Everyone contributes.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll find a way to help,¡± Erik said. ¡°Can Sven come too?¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t a charity,¡± Vidar emphasized. Erik licked his lips. ¡°You said the thieves are after you. We can be guards, I think. Or something else.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to need a lot of materials,¡± Vidar mused. ¡°Would you gather those? You might have to go outside the wall if you don¡¯t want to steal.¡± Erik looked a little panicked, and he glanced up at the sky and then down at his feet before swallowing hard and nodding. ¡°You fine with this?¡± he asked Siv, who gave a bright nod. ¡°Fine, then. You can come, but I¡¯m not sharing a bed with anyone,¡± Vidar muttered. Apparently, the lad knew of a place where rooms were available, and he didn¡¯t think it¡¯d burned down. He and Siv would go see to it. Vidar had a speech to listen to. There wouldn¡¯t be much to glean from the priests, and he had no desire to sneak in through the passages again. His thoughts were once again drawn to the deceased men and women in that cart. He didn¡¯t know if a dead man¡¯s skin was supposed to be that pale, or if something more malicious was underfoot in there. The gates back into the northern part of Halmstadt were back open. A throng of men and women, but mostly men, pushed and scuffled to get inside. These didn¡¯t appear too worse for wear. No soot covered their faces and clothes, showing the fire never reached into their homes. Their faces were haggard and worried, yes, but that was all. Like Vidar, they¡¯d come to hear the speech and have their fears assuaged. Noses turned up and faces away when they noticed Vidar, but he didn¡¯t care in the least. The smell of his clothes and the soot clinging to his hair were secondary. A dragon had attacked Halmstadt. Believed to be a creature of myth and legend, a beast out of stories and the enemy in religious texts, no one actually thought they were real. Now, they all knew. The implications of last night¡¯s appearance were far-reaching and people knew it. Their sense of safety had been shattered the instant fire rained from the sky. Everyone¡¯s place in the world had shifted. A man in torn gray rags stood upon a crate near the entrance, pulling on his long, bushy beard while shouting something about the fallen angels and the day of reckoning. Many glanced in his direction and a few even stopped to listen. One of the soldiers at the gate regarded Vidar as he passed under the archway, and for a moment he thought they would arrest him and throw him back into a cell, but then the soldier¡¯s interest shifted to someone else. Breathing a sigh of relief, he hurried along in the crowd, gazing up at the keep in the distance. Even from down by the townhouses and shops, the damage to Halmstadt¡¯s most fortified building was evident. The rightmost tower, the one closest to him, was damaged with a deep grove in the stone near its middle, as if cut by a huge knife. Everything above that part sagged and looked in danger of collapsing. Much of the stonework was blackened by fire. Vidar followed the milling crowd up the incredibly wide set of stairs leading to the massive square right in front of the keep. Several smaller passageways meant for carts were full of citizens as well, blocking the men heaving and pulling to make their deliveries to the keep. Fights broke out and people shouted. Vidar ignored them all. The gates to the keep were still closed and the soldiers stationed in the square were far too busy with people demanding answers and pushing past to notice him slink off to the side, heading for the scene of last night¡¯s battle. Touching the wall of the keep, he moved quickly along, doing his best not to look up. The height of the building when standing right next to it was dizzying. How they¡¯d built such a structure, with walls reaching the sky, was unfathomable, so Vidar tried not thinking about it as he neared a team of workers clearing stone and other rubble right below the sagging tower. They glanced his way but made no comment when he greeted them with a cheerful smile, doing his utmost not to look out of place, to appear as if he belonged. This side of the keep was a sight to behold. Even with the new snow, obvious signs told of a battle fought. While all bodies had been carted off, bits and pieces of armor remained scattered among the broken-down carts that still littered the snow. He saw a giant arrow¡ªmore a spear, really¡ªand figured these were what Erik had spoken of. The huge crossbow-like constructions. One of the entrances down to the sewers was visible nearby. Strange place for one, in the middle of a plaza. Vidar bent down to pick up a helmet. The bare stone ground beneath the chunk of unadorned, half-melted metal was a shade of brown, telling of grievous injuries with plenty of blood. Whoever wore this piece of armor had probably not made it through the night. The side of the keep showed scores from talons or claws, along with the many areas blackened by flames. Somewhere far up above, there¡¯d be a parapet. Archers would have fired from up there. At ground level, all he saw was a line of black. The dragon¡¯s reach must¡¯ve been a terrible thing, and the soldiers and guardsmen facing the monstrous creature must¡¯ve thought they were in a waking nightmare. Vidar shuddered. From the scene before him, he saw no clues as to how they might¡¯ve finally driven it off. ¡°Terrible, is it not?¡± He must¡¯ve been deep in thought not to hear someone trudging through the snow. Trying to appear unaffected, Vidar glanced to his side to assess whoever snuck up upon him. It was a blond man, a rare characteristic in Halmstadt, to be sure. Taller than Vidar by far, he looked placid enough despite the sword dangling from his side. ¡°Terrible,¡± Vidar agreed. ¡°I only wish our swords would¡¯ve reached the beast.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a soldier, then?¡± Vidar asked, dropping the helmet back into the snow. The blond stranger seemed to consider the question before answering, with a hint of a smile playing across his lips. ¡°You could say that.¡± He was handsome, this man. The clothes he wore, a thin but well-cut and properly maintained wool coat with chain mail peeking out from beneath it, told the story of a man of means. A man in the know. ¡°How did you chase away the dragon?¡± A momentarily lifted eyebrow before he schooled his expression showed the blond man¡¯s surprise at the question. ¡°Inquisitive for a builder.¡± Vidar glanced at the team of workers by the wall, then nodded. ¡°Everyone in Halmstadt is looking for answers.¡± A faraway look came over this stranger and he glanced at the incredible expanse of sky above them before he sighed. ¡°I am not sure it is in your best interest to learn of such things. Perhaps you ought to return to your work.¡± So he did know. Now it was just a question of dragging that information out of him. By chance, a huge opportunity had fallen into Vidar¡¯s lap, and he did not intend to squander it. ¡°You should have more faith. Knowledge brings about a sense of safety, don¡¯t you agree?¡± The blond man narrowed his eyes. ¡°Not the sort of words I would expect from one in your profession.¡± ¡°Are you calling all builders stupid?¡± The blond man blanched, his face going red. ¡°On my father¡¯s name, I would never!¡± ¡°Then tell me, unless you think me too dull of mind to comprehend? Knowledge is a source of security for the mind, isn¡¯t it?¡± Again, Vidar fell into the speech pattern of the person he was speaking with. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but it did seem to do the trick. ¡°Indeed, it is.¡± The blond man relented. ¡°You have bested me with your sound logic, builder.¡± A gentle snow began falling. ¡°In truth, we were unable to do much in way of harm against the creature you name dragon.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying it¡¯s not a dragon? Looked an awful lot like a dragon to me. I¡¯ve seen pictures.¡± ¡°Imagery, in children¡¯s tales. Until the Crown recognizes the beast as a dragon, we shall not refer to it as such. But yes, between you and me, it was a dragon. What else could it be?¡± ¡°If you couldn¡¯t harm it, why did it leave?¡± ¡°As of this morning, we do not know. Our arsenal of weaponry did little more than scratch at its scaled hide.¡± ¡°Best guess?¡± His blond hair was filling up with snow and he shivered. ¡°Blasted cold. From what I have been able to gather, it attacked with abandon until it suddenly reconsidered its mission and took to the sky. No one knows what brought on the creature¡¯s change of heart.¡± ¡°Interesting,¡± Vidar muttered, thinking. ¡°What is your name, builder?¡± Thinking of possible reasons for the dragon¡¯s retreat and what that meant for his mission to slay the thing, he gave his real name without consideration. ¡°Vidar. And yours?¡± ¡°Jarl. You may call me Jarl, Vidar.¡± Hearing his own name said back to him brought Vidar out of his own thoughts, and he realized his mistake. Clearing his throat at Jarl¡¯s obvious interest in him, Vidar took a step back and pointed to the builders. ¡°Perhaps I ought to return.¡± Jarl held out a gloved hand to stall. His other moved to rest on the pommel of his sword. The leather glove creaked as he wrapped his fingers around the sword. Despite the change in stance, his expression never veered from pleasant. ¡°Something just occurred to me, Vidar.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°You are not shivering. Also, the snow touching you is melting.¡± Chapter 30
¡°I am very warm,¡± Vidar said, clearing his throat and bending over to peer under Jarl¡¯s arm. ¡°I really should return to work. The speech looks like it¡¯s about to start.¡± Jarl tilted his head to the side. ¡°Not a builder, then?¡± ¡°We are allowed a break to listen.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± And the conversation had been going so well up until that point. Vidar widened his eyes and peered over Jarl¡¯s shoulder, feigning surprise. It worked, and Jarl looked back, giving Vidar just enough time to sidestep. When Jarl¡¯s head swiveled back, Vidar threw a handful of snow right in his face as he set off running. Unfortunately, the man was quick. He leaned out of the way from the snow without as much as blinking, then threw the palm of his hand at Vidar in a slap that would surely have sent him to the ground if not for the algiz rune. The relatively gentle strike landed on a translucent, bluish barrier. Jarl was taken by surprise and stepped back, confusion evident on his face. The unexpected shield must¡¯ve made the man forget what sort of footing he was standing on, and his back foot slid away from under him. He fell with a yelp. This was Vidar¡¯s chance. Vidar ran and didn¡¯t look back until he was firmly entrenched in the milling people waiting for the speech. Close. Far too close. Jarl was quick on his feet and was just a moment behind Vidar, who kept pressing forward, ducking under arms and squeezing past fat stomachs. After a few minutes, he hid behind an abandoned cart full of gravel. Waiting and ready to resume his fleeing, Vidar panted, for once feeling far too hot underneath his coat. Many glanced down to where he was hiding, but no one disturbed him or called out his position. Hopefully, that meant his pursuer had given up. By the time the speech started, Vidar dared stand. He saw no sign of Jarl anywhere and he didn¡¯t doubt the fair-headed, tall man would stand out in the crowd. Safe and sound, Vidar turned to listen. Unable to hear a single word, he forced his way closer to the front of people until he spotted Jarl up on the steps near the gate. Even with the wide divide between the listeners and the speaker, perhaps it was not a good idea to be all the way at the front. A line of soldiers held the citizens of Halmstadt back. ¡°What is he saying?¡± someone nearby asked. ¡°Can¡¯t hear a word!¡± ¡°What are you doing to protect us?¡± The incessant questions and demands made it impossible to hear the speaker. Vidar sighed and turned around, ready to head back. Then, a man in official-looking robes climbed a cart nearby, and Vidar saw others doing the same throughout the crowd. When they spoke, it was as one, their voices carrying over the milling masses. ¡°A great tragedy has befallen our fair city. The steward of Halmstadt, the royal second cousin to the king himself, has decreed the attack unlawful. As such, those with claim shall approach the administrators at the conclusion of this message. Furthermore, we wish to put your fears to rest. The Crown has been notified, and a reply is expected within a few days¡¯ time. Meanwhile, we have the ability to protect this fair city and its citizens. Fear not, for we shall shield you from this threat.¡± After that short message, the speakers hopped from the carts and disappeared in the crowd, only to emerge behind the guards. Porters came running with tables they placed in front of the speakers, then more with chairs. They were fifteen in all, men and women both, sitting behind the tables when the guards changed positions to allow people to approach. ¡°Form up to place your claims,¡± the speakers bellowed as one. Vidar grabbed the sleeve of a nearby man with the appearance of some sort of craftsman, wearing a heavy-looking leather apron with burn marks aplenty. Being that close to the front of the crowd, he was among the first in line. ¡°What is this about?¡± The merchant pulled his arm back. ¡°Don¡¯t lay your hands on me, rat!¡± One of the soldiers shouted, ¡°Order! We will have order!¡± ¡°If you suffered monetary loss from the attack, you may claim so now and receive recompense,¡± a woman said. She was perhaps a few years his senior and was well-dressed enough to make him think she was someone of means. ¡°They¡¯re going to pay me for the coin I lost?¡± Vidar asked, stunned. Seeing how many lined up behind them, people were eager to take advantage of this favor from the steward. ¡°I¡¯m sure your little losses will be a great burden to the Crown,¡± the lady said. ¡°But in essence, yes, they will.¡± ¡°What of the poor folk who¡¯re still by the church?¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Someone nearby chuckled, but it was the lady who answered again, talking down to him like he was a child. ¡°Those without means rarely have claim to any incurred losses. Looking at¡±¡ªshe wrinkled her nose¡ª¡°and smelling you, surely you understand those of lesser means own very little.¡± Her tone set his anger ablaze, but he knew better than to start something out in the open, especially with so many soldiers nearby. Jarl still stood by the stairs as well, scanning the crowd. Vidar moved a little to the left, out of his pursuer¡¯s line of sight. Two men in front of him argued with the administrator but were soon herded away by one of the bored-looking soldiers carrying short spears. Just like that, it was Vidar¡¯s turn. He was well aware of those he¡¯d spoken to, the lady in particular, listening in on the conversation. The administrator looked up from his ledger. ¡°Name?¡± ¡°Vidar.¡± ¡°Any family name?¡± Vidar shook his head and the administrator gave him a long look, then shook his head, sighing. ¡°Claim?¡± ¡°The room I rented was burned down by the dragon, obliterated, really. I¡¯ve already paid this week¡¯s rent.¡± He looked back over his shoulder, then back, speaking in a low voice. ¡°I had supplies in there worth a lot, and almost fifteen silver coins¡± ¡°Claims against your landlord for rent should be made to him or her directly, not to the Crown.¡± ¡°She, uh, Edna¡­ is dead.¡± ¡°You may petition her estate.¡± That did not seem like it would be a fruitful endeavor. ¡°What of my supplies and coin?¡± ¡°Did you receive the coin as recompense for your labor, or are they a result of invested wealth?¡± The look on the administrator¡¯s face conveyed which option he thought more likely. ¡°Labor.¡± ¡°What is your occupation?¡± He scanned his own notes. ¡°Vidar?¡± ¡°Hurry up!¡± someone shouted behind him. People were antsy, shoving each other back and forth. One such shove forced Vidar up against the table, pushing it so the administrator¡¯s ink bottle almost tipped over. Vidar turned and barked, ¡°Shut up and wait for your turn, fancy bastards!¡± He turned back and muttered, ¡°Scribe.¡± The administrator took another look at Vidar, then raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand. ¡°Please show me your guild¡¯s writ.¡± Someone yelled right into Vidar¡¯s ear and someone jostled him again. Vidar turned around, furious. ¡°Lay off me right now or I¡¯ll make you pay!¡± A few people laughed. ¡°The urchin will make you pay! Hold on to your coppers!¡± ¡°Go back to Andersburg!¡± Vidar gritted his teeth but tried to come off as pleasant when he turned back. ¡°Unfortunately, my writ burned with the rest of my belongings.¡± A full-on brawl broke out nearby and the shoving intensified as soldiers rushed in to keep the peace. The administrator appeared unaffected and continued speaking in his bored, monotone voice. ¡°In such cases, you may enter the name of your guild representative. Once a link has been established, your claim may move forward.¡± It was no use. That money was lost to him. He looked up, and to his horror, Jarl was approaching. ¡°Never mind,¡± Vidar said, ducking away. With everyone fighting, and with the throng of people pushing forward from behind, disappearing into the crowd was not such an easy endeavor this time around. As he squeezed and pushed his way against the stream of people, he kept his arm up to protect the algiz rune at his chest against sudden, random strikes from the crowd. It wouldn¡¯t do to have that barrier appear in front of so many people. It was bad enough Jarl saw it. Him noticing the sowilo runes didn¡¯t help, either. If he was caught, things would go from bad to worse. The going was far too slow for Vidar¡¯s liking. Wanting the use of both arms, he formed the circle in his mind¡¯s eye. To his surprise, the algiz rune was fully drained and rendered inactive. The slap from Jarl hadn¡¯t looked very powerful, so why had it drained the entire rune? He had no way of answering that without further experimentation. This was neither the time nor the place for such things. At least he was able to use both hands to navigate the crowd. Using his smaller size, he made some headway and the crowd finally began thinning out. All of a sudden, he found no other people coming the other direction. Suspicious, Vidar ducked into a narrow street and then crept forward. The gate. It was closed. A few people were arguing with the soldiers in the distance, but to no avail. This situation had to be one of Jarl¡¯s making. The look and feel of the man, and the way he strolled up the stairs to the steward of Halmstadt with such relaxed ease, meant he was someone in power, not just some captain of the guard or high-ranking soldier. This was a man who could order the gates shut. Vidar better be careful. He couldn¡¯t help but grin as he slipped into the tiny hatch he¡¯d scoped out as alternate escape route for him and Ida the day before. Jarl could search this part of Halmstadt all he wanted, he¡¯d never find him. Not for as long as he was in possession of the key to the underground system. With that, he was uncatchable. Closing and locking the hatch and throwing himself into darkness calmed him down. Vidar climbed down through the darkness and soon found he¡¯d happened upon one of the less-enjoyable tunnels. From the smell of it, water did not flow through here. ¡°Just my luck,¡± he grumbled, then set one of the kenaz runes from his pocket alight. That grinding noise of stone on stone sounded from somewhere far away, deeper down the endless corridors to the south. While it did make him jump a little, it no longer sent him scrambling with fear. As far as Vidar figured, it had to have something to do with the system itself. Something like the water treatment. He still wanted to find out exactly what it was, but the thought pulled his mind in a different direction. The monster down in the dark. Revelations from this past day made him certain of one thing, the nature of the corpse. It was a dragon. What else could it be? With that size and the shape of it, nothing else made any sort of sense. It made him want to quest down into that deep darkness immediately, to find the secrets and riches of one of the dead monsters that once plagued Halmstadt and the rest of the country. Now that he knew that dragons existed, he wanted to find the dead one. Those gleaming orbs might be its enormous dead eyes, but it might not be. Either way, it was a secret to uncover, a step toward his goal of understanding the flying monster. Because without understanding it, he would never be able to slay the beast, and slay it he must. No one burned Vidar¡¯s room and belongings and then just flew off into the sunset. He¡¯d get his chance at it, he knew that much. It wanted something, why else would it have come? And it left empty-handed, so the return of that thing was all but a certainty. Vidar needed to be ready for it, and so far all he had were the new runes. They were miracles in their own right but would not suffice on their own. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he¡¯d uncover that tunnel¡¯s secrets. Chapter 31
When he dragged himself into the room, after finally finding the building Erik spoke of, he was dead tired and hungry enough to eat a whole goat. ¡°You smell,¡± Erik said as he showed Vidar around. Vidar didn¡¯t dignify that comment with a reply as he walked around, his eyes wide. Two separate tiny bedrooms were placed wall to wall with a larger sitting room where a table and some chairs were placed in one corner. ¡°There¡¯s so much room,¡± Vidar said after finally taking it all in. ¡°We were lucky to get it,¡± Erik said, pointing to Sven sitting by the table, half-asleep. ¡°He ran here to haggle, and good thing he did, ¡¯cause everything in the entire city is taken now.¡± ¡°Because of the burned-down buildings,¡± Vidar said. Erik nodded. ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°How much am I paying for this?¡± When Erik told him, Vidar choked and sputtered. ¡°Sven haggled, you said?¡± ¡°The silver you gave Siv was enough for a week. We can make more coin in that time, no?¡± ¡°Where¡¯s Siv?¡± Erik shrugged. ¡°She left. Didn¡¯t exactly tell us where she was going.¡± ¡°It¡¯s late.¡± ¡°She¡¯s a big girl. I did try to go with her, but she wouldn¡¯t let me.¡± ¡°Probably out looking for her sister,¡± Sven mumbled over by the table. ¡°Food?¡± Vidar asked. Erik pointed to the table again. A kenaz rune fastened to the wall chased the darkness away, and Vidar put one of the sowilo runes from his coat on the table. It was near empty, so he rejuvenated it just enough to provide some measure of warmth through the night, losing most of his sensation in his left arm. He needed to craft proper runes again so he could use them without spending so much essence. The stew, a mishmash of vegetables and bits of fish, was cold, but he didn¡¯t care. Attacking the food like it¡¯d insulted him, Vidar spoke around bites. ¡°Tomorrow, you two need to find me some wood.¡± He held out his hands, making a circle with his fingers. ¡°About this thick. Find some tools and saw the wood into discs. Siv will show you and make sure you¡¯re doing it right. Also, we need something to make grooves in the wood with, so find a tool for that.¡± ¡°Like a grooving plane?¡± Sven asked. Vidar downed another mouthful of stew. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is, but make sure the grooves can be narrow. We¡¯ll use them to make lines.¡± He pointed at the rune on the table, careful not to get too close. ¡°Like the ones on this.¡± Sven nodded. Erik sighed, his voice betraying what he thought of their prospect of fulfilling Vidar¡¯s request. ¡°That it?¡± ¡°Paint and brushes, small ones,¡± Vidar said, ignoring the sullenness. ¡°And what will you do?¡± Vidar cleaned out his bowl, then headed to one of the bedrooms, turning to give his reply before slamming the door shut. ¡°What I do is none of your concern. You work for me now, boys.¡± Sleep grabbed him immediately, and by the time he woke, it was already light out. Erik and Sven were gone, but Siv sat by the table, dark rings under her eyes. A few pieces of bread sat beside the spent sowilo rune. ¡°No luck in finding your sister?¡± Her red eyes teared up a little, but she angrily wiped at them as she shook her head. ¡°Ida will come to her senses if we just give her some time, I¡¯m sure,¡± he said, grabbing some food and a mug of water to wash it down. ¡°Do you want to learn how to craft runes?¡± A shadow of fear swept past her face but was quickly chased away by a look of determination. Siv nodded, then removed a book from the cloth bag Vidar used for bread. He grabbed it and glanced up at Siv, then back at the text on the cover. Even now, the letters shuddered and drifted in all directions. Concentrating on each letter in turn, he cobbled together its meaning. ¡°It¡¯s good that you want to learn your letters. We¡¯ll find you a tutor once my purse is a little fatter. You should teach me those signs of yours too, so we can talk.¡± She nodded and made a sound of agreement. Vidar looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. ¡°The damage to your throat. Is that what¡¯s keeping you from talking?¡± Siv shrank back a little and fidgeted, then finally shook her head. Not wanting to pry further, Vidar brought out the supplies he¡¯d taken from Yallander¡¯s house of learning before burning it to the ground. Most of the paper was dry. ¡°This is a kenaz rune,¡± he said, drawing the lines. ¡°It provides light.¡± Vidar showed her the sowilo rune as well, then paused a moment and finally drew the lines required for the algiz rune. ¡°This last one we don¡¯t craft to sell, understand? They¡¯re only for us.¡± Siv nodded, but the question was obvious on her face. ¡°It is for protection. Once we¡¯ve crafted a few, you can give one to Ida if you want, but no one else. Algiz is unknown, and I aim to keep it a secret for as long as possible, or until I find the best way of making silver off of it. Gold, even.¡± She drew the algiz rune without complaint. Siv¡¯s small hand was steady and her lines straight. Even the angles appeared correct after a very small number of iterations. She was a natural. ¡°You¡¯re good at this,¡± he muttered. ¡°You¡¯ll be better than me soon.¡± Her smile shone so brilliantly that you¡¯d think she¡¯d never received a compliment before in her life. ¡°I¡¯m going out to rejuvenate some runes while you work on that. Rejuvenate means giving your essence to a rune. It¡¯s what gives the rune its power.¡± She bit her lower lip and pointed at herself. He shook his head. ¡°No. You stay here. If the two knuckleheads return with the materials and tools I requested, you can get started crafting runes off those designs. Just the symbols themselves, mind you. Don¡¯t try rejuvenating them.¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Siv opened her mouth in a grin and made a sound that resembled a gurgling chuckle before putting her hands over her mouth, her face going red. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that,¡± Vidar said. ¡°If you laugh, you laugh. No need to be embarrassed.¡± Her hands dropped, and she nodded. Before leaving, Vidar dropped a silver coin on the table for food, then rejuvenated the sowilo rune. The room was free of drafts, but whoever owned the building did not care to heat it. A little warmth would go a long way when making runes, he figured. Outside, he peered up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun. No dragon as far as the eye could reach, and the sunlight actually provided a little warmth. Perhaps spring wasn¡¯t so far off, after all. Finding people with coin to spare for runes proved a challenge, but a few kenaz runes for a family and a heat rune for an older gentleman living alone provided him with enough food to last him through the mission he was planning down into the darkest corners of the sewers. The tingling sensation in his arm didn¡¯t bother him anymore, and he soon recovered. After returning to a few of his clients from farther uptown, he even came away with some silver coins and a handful of coppers. As he went into a shop to purchase a lantern and an assortment of candles and firesticks to light them, he felt a nagging sensation at the back of his neck. When he turned, the street was empty. Still, he made sure the stakra rune was ready to be used, since he¡¯d forgotten to rejuvenate the algiz runes, and kept one hand near his knife. Even if it meant spending a little extra, he purchased a bag he could carry on his back to keep his hands free. After another glance out into the street and still no one out there with an air of suspicion around them, he left the shop. Vidar considered paying Alvarn another visit but decided it was too far out of his way, especially after taking so much time to gather supplies. It was time to descend into that same stairway where he met Lytir, the one where he saw the dead creature. Heading over there, he wondered at the vagrant¡¯s words and the change in personality. There¡¯d been truth to his words before, with his caution of staying away from his room. It¡¯d been burned to the ground. With everything Vidar had seen since being tossed out of his father¡¯s house, a clairvoyant madman didn¡¯t seem so far-fetched anymore. That feeling of being watched returned and this time, when he spun on his heel, Vidar thought he saw a flicker of movement. He waited, but it did not return. To be safe, he ran and turned the corner, then entered one of the small passageways so common in Andersburg. There, he waited again. Nothing. Grinding his teeth with annoyance, he left his hideout and sidestepped a cart trundling down the street with sweaty men pulling and pushing it along. The pungent stink of fish from it was overpowering, and Vidar turned again to get out of the fetid cloud. He made it almost all the way to his intended destination, the hatch, before getting that nagging sensation again, like his senses were telling him to run. Fed up with not knowing, he pulled his knife and shouted. ¡°Come on, then!¡± The streets weren¡¯t exactly empty and everyone gave him a wide berth. A young child carried by her mother began to cry. Vidar winced and resheathed the knife. ¡°Sorry.¡± The mother hurried away with her daughter without giving him a second glance. A few vagrants begged for money, but he thought one of them glanced in his direction a little too often. Coming the other way, a guardsman walked in a line straight for Vidar, and to his right, a dark-clad figure stood in an alleyway. Vidar blinked. No, it wasn¡¯t a man wearing dark clothes. It looked like a shadow without a man to go with it. He frowned and stepped forward. This prompted the shadow to retreat. Vidar followed to the lip of the alley. Empty, with no sign of anyone or anything. Strange, since it ended just a few strides in with an unclimbable wall. His thoughts drifted to that night when he practiced crafting runes on a stone wall. Something like that passed by then too, and Embla¡¯s troupe muttered of shadows claiming children who¡¯d wandered out by themselves. Vidar scoffed, a children¡¯s tale, but couldn¡¯t help but keep an eye on other alleys to see if it reappeared. The guardsman walked past without bothering him, but Vidar couldn¡¯t stop being suspicious of everyone he passed. ¡°Stupid thieves¡¯ guild,¡± he muttered. ¡°Stupid Jarl.¡± When he approached the street with the entrance hatch, he turned on his heel one final time and went around the nearest building to approach from the other side. At one moment, he thought he heard steps hurrying to follow. He considered waiting in ambush, but found himself fleeing instead. Whoever it was, and no matter their intentions, Vidar was certain he wanted nothing to do with them. New snow covered the hatch, and he hurriedly cleared it. A satisfying click unlocked the hatch and Vidar slid down. The sound of running boots returned, closer this time, as he closed the hatch and locked it. Holding his breath and keeping completely silent for a moment, he didn¡¯t hear a thing through all that thick metal. If he¡¯d been followed, his pursuers now knew of his access to the underground system. Vidar didn¡¯t like that. He didn¡¯t like it one bit. A kenaz rune lit the way for the first few minutes, but soon began flickering. Vidar stepped back and unpacked his lantern and candles. It gave off a laughable flickering light in comparison to what he was used to, but it was better than nothing. Essence would slowly drain from the runes he carried with him despite them not being triggered, he figured, but Vidar brought them all, anyway. Best bring all his available tools, not knowing what he¡¯d come face-to-face with. As he entered the offshoot corridor, essence began leaving his body, starting with the bottoms of his feet. It was a slow, gradual thing, but Vidar ran as fast as he dared, not wanting to spend one second longer than necessary in that dark, horrible place. There, he found who he assumed was Bjorn. A young urchin fitting the boy¡¯s description, along with a lantern looking very much like his own. Vidar spent a solemn minute over the boy but was then forced to continue. Staying any longer meant he might share the boy¡¯s fate. If he lost full use of his legs, that was it. He¡¯d never get back out. The corridor continued on uninterrupted and eventually ended with a wall blocking his path and a ladder heading down. ¡°Just like I thought,¡± Vidar told the quiet darkness. Descending, he got the sense he was entering some vast chamber. The lantern lit up the ladder and the wall behind it, nothing else. No matter how far out he leaned, holding his laughable light away from the wall, it revealed nothing. The sound of rushing water plunging into a huge basin soon reached his ears as he continued the endless climb down. This was the right place. It was far off and somewhere to his left, but he was sure of the source of the sound. That meant the hole in the wall would be somewhere over there as well, but in the darkness, he saw no sign of it. More importantly, that meant the beast was somewhere below in this enormous underground chamber. Other than the sound of rushing water and his own heartbeat, he didn¡¯t hear a thing. With hands tiring from the climb and hands and feet both tingling from that constant drain on his essence, Vidar grew weary. When Vidar finally made it down to the bottom, his fingers were numb and both hands tingled like they were half-asleep. The drain of essence on his legs and feet was worse, but he was at no risk of collapsing just yet. His first instinct was to skirt the wall, to walk around the room and get a sense of its scope and layout, but he didn¡¯t have the time for it. Instead, he made a rough estimate of where the dead thing he¡¯d seen would be located, based on the sound of the water, and then walked straight into the darkness. A sense of unease washed over him as the ladder was eaten up by the darkness behind him. This was not a place where he was meant to set foot. No one was supposed to be down here, and Vidar got the sense that the darkness was judging him, that the walls were watching his every step. A speck of light in the endless darkness. That was all he was. The lantern was almost useless, giving only the faintest glimmer of the floor and his own clothes. Reaching out, he could touch the darkness beyond the lantern¡¯s reach. It was like his hand disappeared in some inky ooze. He shuddered and walked faster and with purpose. If he remained here much longer, Vidar wasn¡¯t sure the essence in his limbs would be enough to carry him back to the surface. A thought occurred to him, and he fumbled for one of the warmth runes. Sensing the circle within, he judged the essence to be at about a third of its capacity. Remembering that night not so long ago, when he drew a rune¡¯s essence into himself, he closed his eyes and reversed the rejuvenation process. Last time he attempted the same thing, it made him sick. Now, with so much essence drained out of him, the process energized Vidar. After continuing on for a little while, Vidar spotted something on the floor. Going to his knees to get a better look, he saw a white-painted symbol. A rare and expensive color. It was about the size of his own hand, and a thin painted line snaked away and disappeared into the darkness, beyond the reach of the lantern. The rune was known to him. It was the same one he¡¯d found with Alvarn, the one they had yet to learn the use of. Vidar followed the white line. Another one soon appeared, and then another. All of them were that same, unknown rune. Finding a few more, Vidar realized they were sending him around in a circle. He guessed that if he kept following the white, painted line, he would eventually make his way back around to the first one. Holding up the lantern toward the middle of the supposed circle revealed nothing. Still, Vidar thought he knew what he¡¯d find. Rather than following the line, he turned in toward the circle¡¯s center. Vidar gasped as something appeared in the darkness. Tall and white, like pillars reaching impossibly far above him. Bones. Enormous bones. So many of them. Placed in a neat order. No. That wasn¡¯t it. No human hands arranged these. A skeleton. The remains of something out of legend. He¡¯d found his dead dragon. Chapter 32
The bone pillars were much taller than him and bent away as they reached upward. All of them connected to a vertical bone near the floor. Unsure what part of it Vidar was seeing, he turned left and walked along its length. Estimating its size in the dark while only seeing a small portion of the corpse at any given time was difficult, but the size had to be enormous judging by how long it took him to reach what he assumed was its tail. A long, thinner set of interlocking bones ran down to the floor and then along it. Vidar followed, marveling at its length. At its tip, he made another set of discoveries. First, it was larger again at the end and a few thin bone spikes protruded from the base. Second, more runes were set into the floor here, squished tightly together with lines encircling the tail. Alvarn would have loved seeing this. Another unknown use for runes. Perhaps the rune scribe student would be able to make sense of it all and see some pattern they could exploit to make this new discovery immediately useful. With Vidar¡¯s limited knowledge, all he managed was to make a rough sketch of what was before his eyes on a small piece of paper. Two of these lines immediately piqued Vidar¡¯s interest, the first one because it was broken. All appearances pointed to it being part of the network of runes encircling the long dead dragon. The second white line disappeared into the darkness, going away from everything. ¡°Interesting,¡± Vidar muttered. Without giving it much thought, he brought out the ink again and repaired the broken line so each end touched. The skeleton behind him creaked. Vidar jumped into the air with a shriek, landing outside the circle. The drain on his essence was gone. Confused, he stepped back into the circle and found the drain to be much more severe. He stepped out again. Frowning, he moved backwards a few steps, still not feeling any drain whatsoever. This meant the circle of runes, whatever it was doing, when broken, was powerful enough to affect runes and himself all the way across the open floor, along the walls and into the tunnels above. What sort of people could craft such a thing? It boggled the mind. Unable to stop himself, Vidar got down to his knees again and placed a hand on one of the runes, envisioning its circle in his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he could not do it. A stuttering shape briefly flickered around the rune but then disintegrated, like when blowing on a mound of dust. After painting an ink circle around the rune on the floor, he tried again. Now, a circle did appear in his mind, but all was not right. The essence within churned and shimmered with a strange sort of glow. ¡°What is that?¡± Vidar murmured. He wanted to take it inside himself, to make it part of him, but he did not dare. With no telling how it would affect him, the risk was far too great. Vidar wished he could¡¯ve brought the rune with him, but there was no getting it off the floor, so he, instead, grabbed hold of one of the dragon tail¡¯s bone spikes. He pulled and pushed to no avail. Frustrated, he leaned back and kicked at it with the heel of his boot. The low sound of bone cracking rang out through the darkness, but no visible marks appeared on the spike. He kicked again and again until it finally broke off. Vidar chased after as it thudded and bounced on the stone floor. The pointed end was sharp and deadly. The spike might make a fine weapon, he figured, and realized its original purpose. With a tail like that, fire was not the only danger to be wary of in the company of a dragon. Shoving his new souvenir into the bag he brought, Vidar strode around to the front of the skeletal dragon, skirting around a pair of thick back legs. Each of them was larger than he himself, much larger. Clawed feet again reminded him of what a fearsome beast rested before him. On a live monster such as this, those would be deadlier than any sword or spear. No matter how he positioned his legs and heaved with the strength of his back, there was no removing a claw. Even if he¡¯d managed it, Vidar would not be able to carry something as large as that in his climb back up to the surface. With the drain outside the circle gone, Vidar triggered a kenaz rune. The enormous skeleton before him came into much better view. Looking at the pattern of runes before him, he came to a sudden realization. This wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d seen runes connected to each other. The church. Down in those tunnels with the corpses. That room. That terrible room. When he¡¯d hurried through that room to escape, it¡¯d drained him of essence. At that time, he hadn¡¯t understood what was happening to him. Now, he did. Upon reflection, the pale corpses in that cart took on an even more sinister meaning. Vidar scratched his chin, looking down on the floor, muttering, ¡°Draining essence.¡± Runes for draining essence surrounded the dragon. He thought back to the strange essence within those runes, and it all clicked into place. It was a dragon¡¯s essence he¡¯d felt. That power. The strangeness. He was glad he hadn¡¯t drawn it into himself. A dragon¡¯s essence was liable to burn a man from the inside out, rather than simply making him puke his guts out. This all meant someone long, long ago killed a dragon, hauled it underground, and set to extracting the essence from it. The purpose was unclear as of yet, but it had not deteriorated in the runes. Pondering the runes, the lines, and the dead dragon, Vidar didn¡¯t notice the glinting in the darkness at first. He blinked and furrowed his brow, unsure if it had been his imagination. But no, there it was again. Something shimmered in the skeleton, where its belly had once been. In the light rune¡¯s glow, he skirted the circle and found a separate line of runes going from the outer circle and into the skeleton. As he approached, the light rune flickered and went out. Cursing, Vidar went back for the lantern. Using that, it was much harder to see, but he thought he saw something stuck within. There it was again, a glint. A polished metal surface. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. A pommel, perhaps, with a haft encircling it. A spear¡¯s haft. ¡°A weapon?¡± Vidar muttered. The painted line headed toward the weapon, and then onto it. Vidar could reach in and grab it, but its placement, its design, and the way it was connected to the runes made him pause. The head of the spear wasn¡¯t made of metal, he thought. No, it was a dull material, almost wood-like, but white. Vidar blinked, leaning in further. ¡°It¡¯s bone,¡± he whispered. Even polished and smooth, there was no denying its resemblance to the skeletal mass around it. Runes covered the haft, which was made of some dark wood. A thin band of metal where the head of the spear connected with the haft was what¡¯d caught his eye in the first place. Vidar, against his better judgment, reached out, but something nagged at his vision. To his left, the light from his lantern showed another glimmer. This one warmer, more inviting. He pulled back and stepped away from the skeleton, holding his lantern before him. There was definitely something there that didn¡¯t belong to the corpse. At first, it looked like a broken-down pile of junk, but the glittering from within that pile held Vidar¡¯s attention. The inviting glow made him forget about the spear and hurry over. Getting down to his knees, he found the wood to be the remnants of a small chest near the dragon¡¯s bony neck. Ignoring the looming white bones towering over him, he sifted through wood so old it crumbled between his fingers. There it was. Treasure. Vidar goggled and then found his eyes tearing up as he pulled coin after coin from the pile. Gold. These coins were gold. Glimmering in the lantern light, they were the most beautiful thing he¡¯d ever seen. Eighteen all in all. A piece of paper had been tucked in with them, but that fell apart as soon as he touched it. The question of why a dragon¡¯s corpse needed gold flashed before his mind but disappeared as quickly while he pocketed the finding of a lifetime. By chance, he glanced at the surface of one of the coins and saw they were very different from the pressed silver he was used to. Rather than the picture of the king, with his stern look of disappointment, the front only held a few interconnected lines, not a rune, and a number at the bottom. Vidar fished out a silver coin to compare, and the year the silver coin was minted was printed at the bottom, 1384. Fourteen years ago. More than thirteen hundred years after the fall of the angels. The number on the gold coin was 1653. It made no sense. The supposedly ancient coin was minted after his own, present, silver coin. No, the number must mean something different. It didn¡¯t matter. No one would care about anything other than the weight of the gold, and these coins were heavy with value. With these coins, he¡¯d be set for years to come, even if he never crafted or rejuvenated another rune. Vidar reached up toward the ceiling with the hand holding the gold coin, screaming, ¡°YEEEES! BEHOLD MY RICHES, DRAGONS ALIVE AND DEAD! MAY YOU ALL ROT AWAY LIKE THIS BASTARD! I KNOW I DID RIGHT TO COME DOWN HERE!¡± He kicked at the skeleton before him with enough force to hurt his toes, and he jumped back, wincing in pain. ¡°Stupid bastard!¡± The sound of stone grinding against stone rang out louder than ever, trembling through the massive hall. Vidar screamed and spun toward the source, away from the dragon¡¯s corpse. For a brief, flickering second, he¡¯d thought the dragon woke up from his kicking, and his heart was racing, his breathing quick and shallow as he stared into the darkness. It¡¯d been close. Perhaps in this very room. The source of the sound was before him. Vidar stood frozen for a long while but heard nothing more. Eventually, his panic settled down and curiosity replaced it. This was an opportunity to find whatever made that grinding noise so he didn¡¯t have to walk around in the tunnels, wondering. He glanced back to the spot of darkness where the spear rested inside the dragon¡¯s corpse. A weapon. He¡¯d need a weapon. There was one final task before he would allow himself to leave, however. The eyes. Two glimmering orbs in the darkness. He remembered them well. The gold coins would be a laughable pittance in comparison to those enormous gems. One of those, he might carry in his pack. The other he would have to return for. From his position near its neck, the dragon¡¯s skull blocked its skeletal face. Vidar slowly made his way around it. The many, many teeth in its maw still looked sharp after all these years, like they could tear him to pieces with a single crunch. He¡¯d fit entirely in there too, in that huge maw. When it returned, Vidar would stand between it and the city of Halmstadt. Not because he necessarily wanted to protect the city itself and its citizens. Well, he did, but not for altruistic reasons. If they were all burned, he would have no one to sell runes to. That was simply unacceptable. Also, the reward for slaying the menace over Halmstadt would be magnificent, he was sure. Vidar saw himself standing before an enormous, adoring crowd who all cheered his name. That¡¯d show his father, it¡¯d show them all. He grinned at the thought as he walked around the massive skull and finally got a glance at the gems he¡¯d seen from so far away. All thoughts of crowds and rewards died away, and he swallowed hard at the sight. He¡¯d been so sure he¡¯d find something precious stuck in the skull¡¯s sockets, and the treasure only served to make him more certain. Not gems, not gems at all. Eyes peered down at him from up on high, impenetrable orbs of blackness sucking in the light. They were full of intelligence. Full of life. Vidar shook his head violently to break out of his trance. The initial impression had been wrong, of course. This dragon lying before him was long dead, a mere shadow of its past self in this skeletal form. The eyes were not full of life. They were dark and dull. Chuckling nervously, Vidar approached and clambered up the elongated jaw. For some reason, he felt he needed a better look. Everything else on this corpse had long since withered away, but not the eyes. Why? He got close enough to touch them, each as large¡ªlarger, even¡ªthan his own head. Vidar reached out with a single finger and touched the left eye, holding his breath as if afraid the dragon would wake and devour him. Wet. It felt wet. Not unlike his own eye. The mystery momentarily allowed him to ignore the massive sense of disappointment after finding no enormous gemstones, but it soon came crashing back with a vengeance. His first thought was to break the eyeball with his fist. Rising anger made him pull back to strike, but something held him back. Looking into that eye, Vidar got the sense he should leave it be. Instead, he sighed and jumped down to move out of the circle of runes. His legs were wobbly after standing inside the circle for too long, so he stepped out of it again to let the essence return a little. The painted line that broke off from the circle and disappeared into the darkness was a mystery he wanted solved before heading back up the long ladder. Vidar wanted to follow it, but he also needed to investigate whatever was making that noise. Deciding on the noise first, he stood and hurried forward to reach into the dragon¡¯s skeletal chest cavity, grabbing the spear. Essence drained from his hand immediately and his arm began to tingle. The dulling sensation and numbness meant he, at first, did not realize what was happening. The wood heated up as he lost feeling in his shoulder. His chest tingled, the sensation quickly moving to his heart. Vidar screamed in pain as the wooden haft grew hot enough to burn his hand as it crumbled to dust. Searing pain flooded up his arm, and he stumbled back, coughing and whimpering, barely able to breathe. The spear was gone. All that remained of it was the hideous, excruciating burns on his hand. Chapter 33
Vidar stumbled out of the circle, panting hard and clutching his chest with his free hand. It felt like his heart wasn¡¯t moving like it should, like it was sluggish and weak. The empty area around his heart had wrapped itself around it, clamping down hard and smothering the life out of him. Each breath was a battle, but Vidar couldn¡¯t lie down and rest. If he did that, it felt like his hand would be useless forever. Cold. He needed cold to help with the burn. With that sole purpose in mind, he crawled to his pack and desperately pulled out its contents, searching for the ink. When he found the bottle, he uncorked it and stuck a finger inside, not bothering with a brush. Vidar drew dark lines on the first piece of paper he found, using only his finger. In a daze of pain and his head swimming from lack of air, the lines came out terribly crooked and uneven. He did not care. In that moment, he was just desperate for something to soothe the terrible heat. It worked, somewhat. Cold wafted from the piece of paper once he triggered the rune, but it did little to help with the pain. ¡°Why does it hurt more?¡± Vidar whimpered, removing his hand by lifting it with his other one. With some distance between the wound and the cold, the sensation actually improved and it felt a little better. Not good by any stretch of the imagination, but better. His breathing was stabilizing as well and Vidar no longer felt like he was about to pass out, even if he still couldn¡¯t move his arm or hand at all. Time crawled as he waited for the return of his limbs. The loud sound returned once more, but other than that, it was dead quiet. A kenaz rune lit up the pile of ash that¡¯d been the spear and Vidar wondered what the hell just happened. After letting the cold from the isaz rune soothe the wound, he braved a look. His entire palm was scalded like he¡¯d dumped hot water over it, but it wasn¡¯t too terrible. The worst of it was the area where a rune had apparently touched him, or he touched it. A deep groove for each line created a runic symbol in his flesh that would never go away. Blackened skin covered the bottom of the burn mark, showing the rune in a clear way. The same rune he was seeing everywhere on the floor, the one responsible for stealing essence from himself, and by all accounts, the dragon. Moving his fingers shot lances of pain through the now tingling hand, whispering of worse pain to come. Still, he could move the fingers a little. His hand was not ruined. In his mind, he saw himself putting his hand under a pile of snow and letting it melt into the wound. Terrible pain would shock him at first, but after that? Bliss. His throat felt dry, and he finished the skin of water he¡¯d brought with him before testing his legs. They wobbled but carried him. Vidar needed to get out of there, but two unanswered questions remained. The sound and the destination for the white painted line. The knife he¡¯d brought would have to do for a weapon, and at least his stronger hand remained healthy and whole. The spear was the weapon he needed to kill the dragon, and he cursed its remains on the floor. Still, the broken-off piece from the skeleton was still nestled safe in his pocket. If the bone-tipped spear killed this dragon, there was nothing stopping Vidar from making a spear of his own using this new find. Now all he needed was a weaponsmith. He knew of none in Halmstadt, but there had to be a few, surely. His walk toward the source of the sound started off sluggish. Vidar carried the isaz rune in one hand as he walked, holding his injured hand over it to calm the angry, burnt skin. With no way of carrying the lantern at the same time, he settled on holding the kenaz rune in his mouth. It was not the best of solutions and his drool soon made the ink run, something he hadn¡¯t considered, and that effectively destroyed the rune. Thankfully, the destruction of a triggered kenaz rune did not produce the same explosion as a sowilo rune, or that would¡¯ve been the end of him. ¡°Stupid,¡± he muttered, fumbling through his pack in the dark to find the tinder sticks needed to relight the candle used in the lantern. His fingers brushed up against something he didn¡¯t remember packing. String. Vidar¡¯s eyes widened. An idea appeared in his mind, clear as day. One that¡¯d surely be considered a great invention. Poking holes in the paper of another kenaz rune took some considerable effort with only one hand, and tying the string into the holes made him want to abandon the idea altogether, but he persevered and finally pulled the string over the top of his head, careful not to rip the paper. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. There it was, his very own light rune affixed to his forehead. Perfect light without having to hold anything in his hands. ¡°Revolutionary!¡± he screamed, rejuvenating it with the rune touching nothing more than his forehead. A chill ran through his head and a dull headache set in. Using his head for rejuvenating runes was perhaps not such a great idea, Vidar admitted, but they couldn¡¯t all be winners. The light though? It was perfect. Something sturdier than paper would be necessary, of course, like a wooden disc with holes drilled through it, perhaps. But for a prototype, it was difficult to beat the light it provided. Moving his head moved the light, illuminating whatever he was looking at. How this was not something previously invented, he didn¡¯t have a clue, but he would be sure to profit off of it. Profit greatly. His previous bellow actually echoed back to him from somewhere far away straight ahead, telling Vidar he was approaching the end of this massive chamber. Essence returned to him little by little until he finally felt whole, except for the wound in his hand that would not stop throbbing. He walked past another circle of runes but this one was empty with neither dragon, spear, or treasure. Two more such circles appeared as he made his way to the other end of the chamber. Both were just as empty. At this other end, there was no ladder. No, this was where the dragons entered through. Or their corpses, at least. A circular door of massive proportions, much larger than even the dragon, rose into the ceiling. It took him a little while to even figure out what he was seeing, and when it moved, creating that horrible sound of stone grinding against stone, Vidar screamed in fright, his ears ringing. He kept on walking and found a gap where the door did not fully close. Something was in the way, blocking it. That must be the reason, then. The door was trying to close itself by some unknown means, but when it ran up against whatever was blocking it, the door retracted to the side again, but only a little, because something must¡¯ve broken so it couldn¡¯t fully move back into the wall. In the door¡¯s opening, he found a tunnel leading deeper into darkness, but all he could focus on was what lay crushed between the stone door and the wall. Bones. Skeletons but not a dragon¡¯s, not this time. There were hundreds of them. Human skeletons. Rags hung from some of their frames and weapons lay at their feet. Piles and piles of dead humans, dead since long before Vidar¡¯s birth. Each time the door attempted to close itself, it broke more of the bones. Ground them into dust. But many still remained. So many. ¡°What happened here?¡± He did not dare get too close, not when the wall could smush him without warning, but he did reach in and grab a short sword resting beside a pile of bones that may have been two people once, perhaps three. Looking out across the dead, Vidar got the vague sense that they¡¯d all faced away from the chamber. Unsure what brought him to that conclusion, he leaned over and returned the sword. Whoever these people once were, whatever happened to them, it felt wrong to steal from their final resting place. The stone door attempted to slam shut again and the piles of bones resisted, just like they¡¯d been doing for untold years. It didn¡¯t take long for Vidar to find the painted line once he was back at the skeletal dragon. Following in its direction only brought on frustration when it disappeared into a hole at the bottom of the wall. Even getting down on his stomach and shining the kenaz rune into the small space revealed nothing more than the line continuing on in that tiny tunnel. Enough was enough. It was time to head back up to the surface. The burn on his hand stung something fierce, but the chill rune helped soothe the pain a little as he made his way back to the dragon again. The biggest question of them all was how to kill a dragon, and that was one, at least, he¡¯d found an answer to. You kill a dragon by using a weapon tipped with the bone of their own kind. If that enormous body withstood normal metal, then something else was required. This was that something else. He glared at the skeleton as he kicked another two spikes free from its tail, daring the thing to move. Those eyes still haunted him, and he felt them on his back as he walked through the darkness, back to the ladder. Turning back, Vidar thought he could see them glinting in the darkness. Shuddering, he rendered the kenaz rune affixed to his forehead inactive. Light was not a necessity when climbing. It was a struggle, to be sure, working his way up with only one hand able to carry his weight. The added bulk of the coins and spikes didn¡¯t help, either. The ascent was not a quick one. When he finally opened the narrow hatch out onto the street and the cold crashed over him, Vidar was almost thankful for it. Almost. Plunging his burned hand into the snow was perhaps not the best of ideas, and it made him cry out in pain, but the numbness was welcome. The light of day was gone, replaced by night. With so few hours of sun each day, Vidar was not surprised. By the time he¡¯d made it back to the building where his new home was located, he was a shuddering mess again, cursing the cold after the sweat he¡¯d built up climbing made his shirt freeze against his skin, clinging painfully and making his movements sluggish. His hand was getting worse, not better. Chapter 34
¡°You look terrible,¡± Erik said, glancing up from his seat by the table when Vidar entered. Vidar threw the sack at him. Sven and Erik jostled it between them but finally got it open. Erik removed the lantern, then peered inside. Quite a bit of food remained. They set to eating immediately as Vidar triggered a few sowilo runes around the room to up the temperature. Only then did he see the bits of wood on the table. There were quite a number of them, but only a few looked like the circular discs he¡¯d instructed Erik and Sven to gather. ¡°What are these?¡± he asked, holding up a rectangular shape. At least the thickness was right. ¡°They weren¡¯t letting anyone out of the city,¡± Erik answered around a mouthful of bread. Vidar plucked a rough, oval shape and then a square, narrowing his eyes. The top and bottom were rough, but the sides were mostly smooth. ¡°Then where did you get these?¡± ¡°Furniture,¡± Sven grunted. Erik nodded. ¡°Table legs, a pole. Bits and pieces.¡± ¡°You got creative,¡± Vidar said, nodding approvingly. They weren¡¯t pretty, but that mattered little. Function over form. Both boys beamed from the approval but didn¡¯t stop wolfing down the food Vidar brought. ¡°Where¡¯s Siv?¡± he asked. They shrugged. Looking for Ida, Vidar supposed. He waved their arms off the table to grab the pages where she¡¯d been sitting. On top of several sheets full of well-drawn kenaz and sowilo runes was a single page cramped with letters written in a shaky hand next to scribbles of objects. The letter A was right next to what looked like an apple. Vidar grabbed the book she¡¯d brought and found she¡¯d been copying from the pages. ¡°That¡¯s one way to learn,¡± he said to himself. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Erik asked, but Vidar ignored him. At the bottom of her page of letters, Siv had written her own name. Siv. Quite the hand for penmanship on that girl. These urchins from Rat Town were turning out to be quite industrious, and he was not surprised. When you had to fight for the right to eat every day like them, you became a quick study. Vidar grabbed the supplies and painted runes onto a few of the pieces of wood. Only kenaz and sowilo runes, of course. Anything else, he¡¯d make himself. He trusted the boys to a point, and didn¡¯t think they¡¯d even know what the different runes meant, but you couldn¡¯t be too careful with this sort of thing. ¡°I want you to make grooves in the wood following these lines,¡± he told them, making a circle around a light rune on one of the rectangular pieces. ¡°And the circle on this. Be careful, mind you.¡± They both groaned. ¡°We¡¯ve been working on those all day. Can¡¯t it wait until tomorrow?¡± ¡°You may finish your meal,¡± Vidar graciously allowed. Most pieces didn¡¯t need a circle, since the wood became a natural barrier for the essence, he¡¯d learned, but the light rune he intended to affix to his forehead when times called for it. Drilling holes into the corners would surely destroy the rune, if not for a circle separating the symbol from the rest of the wood. This would be the prototype of his new design. The gold in his pocket was nothing compared to the riches he¡¯d make with that. ¡°I¡¯m going to sleep. Be careful in making those runes for me.¡± They both glared at him, so he dug into his pocket, careful not to show the glimmer of gold. ¡°A little something for your troubles.¡± The copper was enough to wipe away the worst of their scowls.
* * * He woke during the night from a sound at the door leading to the hallway. Reaching for the knife, Vidar crept to the rickety door separating his own tiny room from the communal one, and gently pressed down on the handle until it opened on blessedly silent hinges. Bright, cold light filled the room as he triggered the paper kenaz rune he¡¯d kept on his forehead while sleeping. Siv pressed her eyes shut tight and let out a startled, throaty yip. Neither Erik nor Sven stirred in their corner. ¡°Sorry,¡± Vidar whispered, lowering the intensity of the light with barely a thought. ¡°No Ida?¡± Siv blinked several times and then rubbed at her eyes before being able to see again. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head before her eyes widened and she hurried up to him to grab his hand. The dark, burned skin on his hand looked the same, but the red skin around it was angrier, and the pain even as she touched the unburned part was blinding. Vidar found he could no longer move his fingers as much. ¡°That¡¯s not good,¡± he said. Siv shook her head, agreeing. Then she held up a finger, as if asking him to wait, as she hurried back outside. A moment later, she returned with a handful of snow. Guiding his hand to the table, she placed it, palms up, on there before putting the already melting snow right on top of the burn. Vidar gritted his teeth against the sharp pain, but Siv held him fast. The snow soon began having a soothing effect. Pain still surged through the hand and even his wrist, but it helped somewhat. Siv released his hand and rounded the table to sit with her book, flipping pages as if looking for something. Every few moments, she looked up, her eyes going to the ceiling as she thought and considered. When she was done, she slid the paper to him and tapped it thrice with her finger, giving him a serious look. Vidar turned the paper over and pulled it close, squinting to make out the letters as they slid into each other and turned upon themselves. ¡°Physica?¡± he asked. She made a gesture, one hand going around her arm, as if bandaging it, mouthing the word. Only small grunts made it past her lips. Vidar repeated the gesture. ¡°Physica?¡± She nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know anyone who knows how to treat a wound. Only the veterinarian Ida went to with her eye.¡± The mention of her sister¡¯s name looked like it¡¯d been a slap to her face, but Siv nodded, despite showing disgust on her face. No, not for the mention of her sister, he realized, but for the man who¡¯d treated her. Neither sister thought very highly of the man, and he didn¡¯t blame them. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I¡¯ll go today,¡± he promised. And he would too, right after visiting the smith and the locksmith. ¡°Have you had anything to eat?¡± Siv shrugged. He handed over a few silver coins. ¡°Make sure the three of you eat, and keep working on your letters. You¡¯re doing good.¡± He was about to walk out, not wanting to waste time sitting around despite the early hour, but Siv grabbed his right hand. Vidar turned back. ¡°What?¡± She pointed at her paper filled with runes. ¡°You did well on those as well.¡± Siv shook her head and pointed at the runes, made a gesture with two of her fingers, then to herself. ¡°You want to learn more?¡± She nodded. He copied her sign. ¡°What¡¯s that? Rune?¡± Nodded again. ¡°It can be dangerous. Are you sure?¡± The look on her face told him just how much of an idiot she thought he was for even asking that question. He sat down next to her by the table and taught her while the boys snored in the corner. Not everything, of course, but enough to get her started. How to visualize the circle in her mind with the runic symbol encircled, how to make the mind¡¯s version a copy of what was before her, and then, finally, how to carefully trigger a rune. Rejuvenation of runes would come later once she got the hang of the first pieces of the rune crafting puzzle. Siv practiced with one of his kenaz runes while he carefully painted a few of the still-blank pieces of wood. Using the tool Erik fetched to make the grooves proved more difficult than he¡¯d anticipated, partly because he was only able to use one hand, but he managed shallow marks that¡¯d at least work a little better than painting directly on the wood. When he¡¯d made himself a proper algiz rune, and one for Siv, and then a few stakra ones, she still hadn¡¯t managed to trigger the light rune. ¡°It takes practice,¡± he said, trying to ease her furious expression of concentration. Her head almost vibrated from how tense she was, but his instruction only made her stare at the rune in front of her even harder. ¡°Close your eyes.¡± She shut them so hard her whole face turned into a grimace of someone pressing too hard at the privy. Success still eluded her. He was about to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder but pulled away, unsure how she felt about touch. ¡°Keep trying,¡± he said, letting his healthy hand fall to his side. When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he made the sign for physica she¡¯d shown him. ¡°I¡¯ll go visit the vet.¡± She nodded encouragingly, then closed her eyes again and turned her focus to the runes. ¡°When the boys wake up, have them gather more wood. I have no clue why they¡¯re not letting anyone out of the city, but tell them more of these sorry things are fine for now.¡± Siv nodded again without opening her eyes. Without looking, she made the sign for the physica. ¡°Yes, yes. I told you, I will!¡± He closed the door behind him and hurried out into the early morning. More time than he expected had passed around the table with Siv, and the first glimmer of dawn showed on the horizon. A few workers closed their winter clothes around them, huddling as they hurried this way and that. Vidar didn¡¯t like carrying so many valuables on his person, but he didn¡¯t feel comfortable leaving gold in the room, either. Instead, he stowed most of it in an alley after making sure he wasn¡¯t followed. The bone spikes, he kept, along with the silver coins and a single gold one. This would be a day for spending, after all. Considering his options, he settled on the locksmith first. He was an early riser, and having an extra set of keys to the underground system, as well as to Alvarn¡¯s chapter hall, was only prudent. Unfortunately, the smithy was burned to the ground. Crestfallen, Vidar hurried to the rune scribes¡¯ chapter house. Even after waiting an hour in the snow, Alvarn made no appearance. ¡°Stupid merchant boy,¡± Vidar muttered, clenching his hands into fists, only to cry out in pain strong enough to make him woozy. Looking down at his hand, he thought it might even look a little worse than that morning. Not wanting to lose the hand, he made his way to the veterinarian and spent a good few minutes banging on his door and yelling until the man appeared from the barn-looking structure. His apron was just as messy this time, and if Vidar wasn¡¯t mistaken, many of the now-brown-looking stains were the same ones as when he and Ida visited. ¡°The little thief¡¯s boyfriend? What do you want?¡± he asked, scratching at his bushy mustache. Vidar held up his hand. ¡°I need help with this.¡± The veterinarian winced. Not a good sign. ¡°Nasty, that,¡± he said, walking up to grab Vidar¡¯s arm so he could get a closer look at the wound. ¡°What did ye do?¡± ¡°Burn.¡± ¡°I can see that. Infected too.¡± ¡°Can you help? I can pay my way.¡± He pursed his lips and then pulled Vidar¡¯s coat up to inspect his arm. ¡°No spread of the infection. About the only good thing about this, that. If ye were an animal, I¡¯d recommend we put you down.¡± ¡°I¡¯d be grateful if you can offer a different solution,¡± Vidar said, wincing as the burly man twisted his arm this way and that. ¡°How about you go to one of them proper physicas?¡± ¡°Where can I find one of those?¡± He shrugged. ¡°No idea. I don¡¯t have the sort of coin for ¡¯em.¡± ¡°Then how about you help me?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t I say asking for a favor needed a little sugar last time you were here?¡± Vidar fished up a piece of silver. ¡°This sugar enough?¡± ¡°That it is, boy. That it is,¡± he said, snatching the coin before turning back and heading for the barn, waving for Vidar to follow. The building smelled of manure, piss, and animals. Several small pigs trundled around freely on the hay-covered floor while a bunch of goats screeched at him from an enclosure. ¡°Ignore their bleating and come here with that hand. And take off your coat so I can examine your arm,¡± the veterinarian said. Vidar followed, removed the coat, and hung it over the back of a chair, before sitting down in front of a rickety table at the back of the barn. ¡°Put your hand out on the table.¡± Once Vidar followed the instructions, the veterinarian brought out a white, only slightly soiled cloth and a glass bottle of clear liquid without a label. He uncorked it and the smell of spirits was strong enough to overpower everything else for a moment, before it settled and mingled with all the other terrible scents. The veterinarian put his items on top of the table, then brought out a strap and began tying Vidar¡¯s hand to the table. Vidar¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°Relax, I¡¯m not going to cut it off. Not just yet, anyway.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°This is going to hurt. A lot. Don¡¯t need you tossing and turning to make it worse.¡± He grabbed the bottle, then thought of something and put it back, going off to the side to retrieve what looked like a harness made for an ox pulling a cart. ¡°Put this strap between your teeth.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t nee¡ª¡± Vidar began, but the veterinarian proffered it. ¡°You will need it, boy.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Vidar grunted, putting it between his teeth. The old leather tasted like the whole barn smelled. Not pleasant. ¡°Ready?¡± Vidar nodded. The veterinarian gave him a long look, then upended the bottle over his hand, splashing the contents over his wound. It stung. A lot. Vidar swallowed hard and heaved quick breaths through his nose, but thought he managed the pain pretty well. Then the veterinarian started in with the cloth, pressing it against the palm of Vidar¡¯s hand and moving it roughly around. Vidar clamped down on the strap in his mouth and cried out. His eyes filled with tears as bolts of lightning shot through his hand and up his arm. The entirety of his existence became a singular point of bright hot pain that never lessened, only grew. Close to puking his guts out, Vidar breathed through his open lips, his teeth creaking from the immense pressure of his jaw. Through it all, he could not stop looking at that cloth as the veterinarian wiped with it, again and again, moving across raw flesh and into tiny, hidden crevices in Vidar¡¯s pocketed skin. The now wet cloth turned pink, then red as blood began to pour, and Vidar¡¯s hearing rose into a high-pitched whine that drowned out all else, even his own desperate screams. The veterinarian said something, but Vidar was beyond listening. Even if he could hear, he would not have been able to understand. He wished for the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, but his mind stubbornly refused to go dark. Rune. The thought came with a picture in Vidar¡¯s mind. A few lines making up the symbol that¡¯d been burned into his flesh. On instinct, he grasped for it, pouring essence and feeding himself to the symbol to numb the pain. It filled to the brim and it did indeed dull the pain, if only a little. His fingers tingled, as well as his palm, but the sensation felt wrong. Like he¡¯d used the rune incorrectly somehow. That feeling was fleeting, however, for the pain redoubled as the veterinarian brought out a sharp tool to dig in the grooves of Vidar¡¯s hand. The tool struck something in his hand and pain surged up his arm, to his shoulder, then finally down his entire spine and up to his head. Only then, finally, did the darkness take him. Interlude: An ode to SmittyBerlin Thank you for the advanced review, SmittyBerlin. As promised, a completely not at all stolen poem written in your honor: Since I need to add some more characters to this text, let me just say thank you to all you lovely readers. Next chapter coming on Monday! Still not enough words? Well, guess I''ll paste the poem below: Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a ding, As of some one gently beeping, buzzing in my pocket. ¡°¡¯Tis some hater,¡± I muttered, ¡°tapping at my glowing screen¡ª Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. But lo, behold! A ray of sunshine in the darkness O SmittyBerlin, my SmittyBerlin Shall I compare thee to a summer¡¯s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate My first advanced review, my first love. Vielen Dank, SmittyBerlin, Ihre Bewertung w?rmt mein hertz. Tack, SmittyBerlin. Sk?l! Chapter 35
Blurry vision forced him to blink several times and shake his head, which felt heavy. Vidar wet his lips and then grimaced as the intense ache from the palm of his hand finally made it through the fog of his waking. Moving his hand was wasted effort, for it was still tied fast to the table. The deep red piece of cloth the veterinarian used covered his hand. It was wet with fresh blood. Strangely enough, his feet would not move either. Vidar blinked again and again and looked down to see straps securing both legs to the chair. ¡°What is this?¡± he mumbled. ¡°Vidar?¡± His other, healthy hand was tied to the chair as well, and a leather strap went over his chest to secure him against the backrest. ¡°Let me go.¡± The words were slurred and his lips felt too big. A haze of pain filtered everything around him, but he was still able to turn his head the second time someone called his name. ¡°Vidar!¡± ¡°What?¡± Vidar asked. A new pain flashed across his face. ¡°Wake up!¡± Vidar drew in a sharp breath and coughed. His eyes finally focused and he saw the shape looming over him. It was not the veterinarian. ¡°Torbjorn?¡± ¡°Now you¡¯re coming to. Good boy!¡± Torbjorn¡¯s voice boomed in the spacious barn. ¡°What is this? Why are you here? Why are you wearing my coat?!¡± Only then did the cold register and the shivering set in. ¡°You mean MY coat?¡± he asked, hunching over so the front wasn¡¯t quite as open. His frame was much wider than Vidar¡¯s and the coat was too small for him. Almost comically so, but neither that fit nor Torbjorn¡¯s smile made the situation very amusing to Vidar, who saw how that smile didn¡¯t reach the thug¡¯s eyes. Panic flooded Vidar¡¯s chest, almost overpowering the pain, almost, but he pushed it down. Showing weakness in front of a predator like Torbjorn might serve to set him off. ¡°You¡¯re no longer with Embla, then?¡± ¡°There is no more Embla and the rats have all dispersed, but I¡¯m doing well for myself.¡± It dawned on Vidar, then, why Torbjorn was there. ¡°You joined the thieves¡¯ guild.¡± ¡°I did,¡± Torbjorn confirmed, playing with one of the spikes from the dragon¡¯s tail. ¡°Ansgar came looking for a guild representative the moment you passed out. As luck would have it, the person he found was a friend of mine who knew I wanted to talk with you personally. He told me rather than go here himself.¡± The veterinarian sold him out. Vidar was not surprised. ¡°So what do you want?¡± Vidar asked. Sweat was pouring down his face, back, and chest despite the cold. He glanced at the piece of cloth covering his hand again. ¡°What is this anyway?¡± Torbjorn asked, testing the very tip of the bone spike. ¡°Ouch!¡± A droplet of blood formed on his finger and Torbjorn wiped it off on Vidar¡¯s sweat-soaked shirt. Vidar didn¡¯t answer and Torbjorn shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m a practical person, Vidar. Just tell me what I need to know and do what I tell you to, and all will be great. Agreed?¡± Vidar¡¯s head was heavy and he had to focus to keep it from dipping forward. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for a question.¡± ¡°Where is Ida?¡± Torbjorn asked, pocketing the spike as he leaned in close. The question took him by surprise and it must¡¯ve registered in his face. ¡°Surprised?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know where Ida is,¡± Vidar said, ignoring the second question. ¡°Of course you do. You were here with her, perhaps in this dung heap of a barn, just a few days ago. Tyv wants her and he gets what he wants.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Tyv?¡± Pain flashed again and Torbjorn gave him another slap. ¡°She went off on her own,¡± Vidar breathed, flinching in anticipation of a third strike. They took the breath from him, but the pain wasn¡¯t bad, not compared to his hand. ¡°We haven¡¯t been able to find her.¡± Torbjorn sat down on his heels with a mischievous smile on his lips. ¡°We?¡± Vidar cursed inwardly. ¡°The silent sister is with you. Of course she is. We all need someone to warm our beds, don¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Shut your mouth,¡± Vidar spat. ¡°She¡¯s a child.¡± That made Torbjorn laugh. ¡°So are you. So am I.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Not me.¡± ¡°It does not matter. Perhaps Siv will be able to lead us to her sister.¡± ¡°Leave her be! You know Siv doesn¡¯t speak. How should she tell you anything even if you hurt her? Why do you want Ida, anyway?¡± Mirth played across his dead little eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t need her to speak. I¡¯ll dangle her as bait and Ida will come running to save her.¡± ¡°What did Ida do?¡± Vidar repeated, his head swimming from the pain in his hand. ¡°You know what she did, Vidar,¡± Torbjorn admonished. ¡°She must¡¯ve told you.¡± ¡°She hasn¡¯t told me anything!¡± he blurted, spittle going everywhere. ¡°The little bitch torched my boss!¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Yallander, I know you know him. You worked for him, same as me! The runes and whatnot!¡± Vidar furrowed his brow, not understanding. ¡°You¡¯re saying Ida did that?¡± ¡°Of course! Who else? You?¡± Torbjorn laughed, a tinge of madness in the sound. Vidar chuckled, his throat going dry. Or perhaps it was already dry. It was difficult keeping track of things. ¡°Why her?¡± ¡°Retaliation? Revenge? Hate? The little bitch had many reasons. Yallander ordered her little guild put to the knife, after all.¡± ¡°He did?¡± Torbjorn sighed. ¡°Competing thieves¡¯ guilds are apparently a big no-no. Who would¡¯ve thought, except everyone in the entire city? Unfortunately, Ida was not among those we¡¯ve found.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Oh is right,¡± Torbjorn said. ¡°So now you need to tell me of Siv¡¯s whereabouts.¡± ¡°No,¡± Vidar said, swallowing hard. Torbjorn raised an eyebrow. ¡°No?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Perhaps I should cut off one of your ears to start. They¡¯re so big you only need the one, no?¡± Vidar glared at him. ¡°Or an eye, maybe. That way, you and Ida would be a matching pair.¡± ¡°Fuck you!¡± Vidar shouted, throwing himself against the restraints. The wound in his hand screamed in pain and Vidar stopped moving, overcome with agony. ¡°I¡¯ll need her whereabouts, Vidar, and I¡¯ll need them soon. I¡¯m not leaving here without that information. I take no pleasure in taunting you and I won¡¯t take pleasure in torturing you, but I will.¡± Vidar knew the lie as soon as it was spoken. Torbjorn reveled in this power dynamic and would be ecstatic to cause more pain. ¡°Your hand perhaps? Or both? With no hands, making runes might be hard, no? You can still teach, at least. Tyv wants me to bring you around once we¡¯re done. Made me swear not to kill you.¡± Torbjorn gave Vidar a thoughtful look, then removed the piece of cloth covering his hand. It had stuck to the wound and the pain as it tore off made Vidar whimper despite himself. ¡°Play nice and you might keep your hand. All I want is some information.¡± Vidar shook his head, sweat going everywhere. ¡°No!¡± Torbjorn held up a single finger, showed it to Vidar, then moved it to Vidar¡¯s hand before pressing down. Vidar screamed. And he screamed. ¡°Tell me!¡± Torbjorn shouted, moving his hand so the finger turned and turned in Vidar¡¯s wound with a squelching sound. He couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t see or hear. Fire. His hand burned, as if a sowilo rune had been pressed against his skin. Numbness. His dazed mind thought only of lessening that pain, and Vidar knew only one way of doing that. A glimmer of something at the back of his mind screamed at him through the agony. The answer to a question he, at first, couldn¡¯t form. Then, in the briefest moment between agonizing breaths, the question appeared in his mind without distraction, stark against a backdrop of dark eternity. What was the purpose of the runes surrounding the dragon? They were used in draining the dragon¡¯s essence. Vidar barely knew what he was doing when he drew essence from the rune in the palm of his hand back into his body, forcing it to overflow with little regard for what it might do to him. This new rune was not meant to hold his own essence. It was meant to hold another¡¯s. Triggering the empty rune, Vidar felt essence crashing into it in great amounts, like the raging river of a person¡¯s life force. Not any person¡¯s. Torbjorn¡¯s. The only sound from the thug of a young man was a surprised ¡°erp.¡± Then the finger on Vidar¡¯s palm disappeared and the flow of essence into the rune cut off. Even with all that, the circle in his mind, the circle he barely saw through the pain, was barely half-full. Panting, Vidar opened his eyes. Torbjorn was on the ground. His face looked haggard, the skin pulled too tight against his skull, and his eyes were open wide in surprise. A surprised death mask. His chest did not move. Torbjorn wasn¡¯t breathing. A loud whimper sounded from the doorway and Vidar forced himself to ignore the worst of the pain and the swell of overflowing essence inside him. ¡°Release me, veterinarian!¡± he shouted, mustering all the authority he knew. ¡°Or suffer the same fate!¡± The veterinarian whimpered and hurried over, undoing the leather straps. ¡°I am sorry,¡± he kept repeating with each strap. When he got to Vidar¡¯s arm, Vidar stopped him. ¡°Hold on, you need to fix this. Goddamn traitor.¡± ¡°I am no traitor, boy,¡± the veterinarian said. ¡°Yes, I fetched one of the thieves¡¯ guild,¡± the veterinarian continued. ¡°But not for the coin. If they knew you¡¯d come to me and I didn¡¯t report you, they¡¯d have my hands. I need my hands. Don¡¯t you see?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Vidar grunted. ¡°I mean that the reach of the thieves¡¯ guild is long and encompasses much.¡± ¡°Fix me,¡± Vidar replied, his patience running thin. ¡°Enough of this.¡± The veterinarian eyed Torbjorn¡¯s corpse, then bent over to get a closer look at the wound. ¡°I removed most of the dead and damaged flesh, and the bits of wood, as well as the burnt skin that remained. I have a poultice we can try, but I make no guarantees.¡± ¡°Do it,¡± Vidar said through gritted teeth. ¡°If you try to run, I¡¯ll find you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it, boy,¡± the veterinarian said, exiting the barn. He returned a short while later with a bowl full of something fragrant. ¡°What is that?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Garlic, honey, and some herbs to deal with the infection. To hopefully deal with the infection. If this doesn¡¯t work, our last-ditch attempt will be to take your arm, boy.¡± ¡°Stop calling me ¡®boy,¡¯¡± Vidar snapped. ¡°When will we know?¡± The veterinarian grabbed a handful of the mixture and placed it into the wound. It immediately began to itch. Vidar winced. ¡°This¡¯ll work?¡± ¡°Like I said, no promises,¡± Ansgar the veterinarian answered, wiping off his hands. He grabbed a bandage and began wrapping Vidar¡¯s hand. Each time the cloth touched the wound, Vidar winced a little, despite his best attempts to remain still. He kept stealing glances at Torbjorn¡¯s withered form, and when the veterinarian was finished with his ministrations, Vidar nodded toward the corpse. ¡°Check his pockets for me, will you?¡± The veterinarian gave him a hesitant look, and Vidar raised an eyebrow. The bounty from the man Vidar had just killed to defend himself and his friends was a rusty, almost useless knife that he immediately discarded and a small amount of copper coins. Not much worth for a man¡¯s life, but then again, Torbjorn¡¯s life had never been worth much. ¡°When will I know?¡± Vidar asked again. The veterinarian cleared his throat. ¡°If you wake up tomorrow, you have a fighting chance. If you don¡¯t, have someone bring you by and we¡¯ll take that arm.¡± Vidar stood and rubbed at the area where the leather strap had tied him to the table. He nodded to the still-very-uncomfortable-looking veterinarian. As he pushed open the door, Ansgar asked, ¡°What do I do with the body?¡± ¡°Feed him to the pigs. I don¡¯t care,¡± Vidar answered without looking back. Chapter 36
Cold air soothed his warm, clammy skin at first, but when his sweat began to freeze, each step through the hated crunching snow made him a little colder. Soon, his mind grew hazy, and he focused on keeping his wits about him, trying not to fall unconscious. That would be just the thing. Freezing to death in the street after passing out. If only he could make it back to his bed, he¡¯d be fine. Vidar kept telling himself this over and over as he walked. To occupy his thoughts, he considered what he had learned. The rune in the palm of his hand drained essence. When he imagined the circle in his mind, he could sense that essence still in there¡ªTorbjorn¡¯s. Vidar drew on it and found the excess running through his system gave him a small boost of energy and cleared his mind. The circle of interconnected runes around the dragon must have been placed there to drain the monster. This meant the essence still in those runes belonged to the long-dead dragon. Since it was still present after all this time, whatever they intended to use it for hadn¡¯t worked according to plan, Vidar figured. Also, if he¡¯d taken the dragon¡¯s essence into himself, he would probably have exploded on the spot. This new discovery also meant that connecting runes together was a possibility. Perhaps this was already a known fact. He¡¯d have to check with Alvarn. Perhaps you could even combine runes to create something different, like a kenaz and a sowilo rune together giving light and warmth at the same time. A topic worth investigating. Vidar was getting close now, nearly there. Almost home. Each step took a little more out of him than the last. His gait was slow and his mind hazy. He pulled from the rune again, giving himself another small boost. Vidar focused on Ida. The thieves¡¯ guild thought she was responsible for the death of Yallander. From what Torbjorn said, the previous leader¡¯s replacement was looking for Vidar as well. Things were getting complicated. They really needed to find Ida and give her an algiz rune. He was finally at the house. Even from a distance, Vidar saw the small window that opened into his own room. An incredibly bright light shone through. ¡°What in the hell are they doing in there?¡± he groaned. The door to the building was heavy and Vidar more fell inward than pushed it open. After climbing the stairs, he saw light shining bright in the narrow gap between the door to his room and the floor. ¡°What?¡± he asked out loud as he pulled on the locked door. ¡°Let me in!¡± The lock clicked open and a very red-faced and sweaty, but happy, Siv stood before him with a wide, bright smile covering her face. One hand was on her hip and the other in the air as she made the sign for rune. A wall of heat and light struck Vidar like a blow, and he staggered to the side, grabbing the wall for support, his eyelids fluttering. Siv made a concerned sound then. Erik and Sven came rushing out to grab Vidar before he collapsed. As they entered the room, he saw the source of the light and the warmth. The girl had triggered every single rune in the entire room, and it was stifling. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Erik asked after a concerned glance from Siv. ¡°Siv, you managed it,¡± Vidar said. ¡°You triggered the runes.¡± Then he passed out. He woke in the night, his shirt soaked through with sweat, his head swimming. A glass of water waited for him on the small bedside table, and he downed it gratefully. Most of the sowilo runes had run out, and only two kenaz runes in the communal room still gave off light. Ever so carefully, he removed the coat and then the drenched shirt, throwing them to the floor. His skin was pale and shone with sweat. Vidar was, even through the haze of sickness, surprised at how emaciated he looked. He¡¯d always been on the thin side, but not like this. Once he got better, he¡¯d need to put a bigger emphasis on getting his meals. Head still spinning, he opened the window. Cool air drifted in and he breathed in a sigh of relief. At some point, he woke in a small lake of sweat with Siv holding out another glass of water. He sipped it, coughed, then downed its contents gratefully. Vidar was gone again before his head fell back onto bed. When he woke again, Vidar felt weaker than he¡¯d ever been before. The bedding clung to his skin but he noted he wasn¡¯t sweating as bad. A dim brightness from the window gave just enough light to see by. Vidar fumbled for his coat and the kenaz runes within. His limbs moved as if through syrup, just like his thoughts, but he realized the pain from his hand was much improved. It still throbbed, but he was able to move his fingers a little even through the bandages. His throat was parched and his stomach was a dark hole of hunger. Opening the door to the common room, Vidar frowned. Small lanterns lit the area rather than kenaz runes. They must¡¯ve fully ran out during the night. Piles and piles of wooden discs littered almost the entire floor. It seemed impossible to him that the two boys could¡¯ve collected so much already. A small cask stood on the table and he shuffled over and grabbed a cup. Clear water splashed into the bottom and he drank and drank until it seemed he could feel the water swirling around in his gut. Only then did he dig into the food. A piece of hard cheese sat on a plate with a few apples and some small pieces of bread. Vidar inhaled it all. Papers lay strewn across the table and Vidar saw Siv¡¯s progress before him. She was putting together short, simple words in a neat hand. At some point, she¡¯d stopped drawing the runes and he thought he saw why. The few she¡¯d drawn were almost perfect. To practice them more must¡¯ve felt like wasted time. One of the pieces of wood in a pile beside the table caught his eye and Vidar frowned, picking it up. A kenaz rune adorned one side of it with red painted lines recessed into grooves in the wood. He picked up another one. Same thing. ¡°When did they have time with all this?¡± he asked. Snores was the only reply. Siv opened her door. Her eyes widened with surprise and she pointed at him, then back at Vidar¡¯s bed. ¡°I¡¯ve slept enough,¡± Vidar said. ¡°How long did I sleep?¡± She held up three fingers. ¡°Three days?!¡± Nod. Dumbfounded, he looked around the room again. All these runes made much better sense now. ¡°What did I miss?¡± Siv made the sign for rune. ¡°I can see that. What else?¡± Shrug. ¡°Well, I¡¯m feeling a lot better now. You haven¡¯t found Ida?¡± She shook her head and made a simple sign. ¡°That means no?¡± She nodded and made a different sign. Vidar repeated the first sign, no, then the second, yes. Siv smiled. ¡°We have to find Ida, Siv. The thieves¡¯ guild is looking for her. They think she¡¯s the one responsible for the death of Yallander, a thieves¡¯ guild leader in Andersburg.¡± Her eyes widened and she hurried over to find a piece of paper with some space remaining on it. Biting her lower lip in concentration, she wrote three short words before handing the paper over. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Ida kill him?¡± When Vidar looked up at Siv, her hands flashed thrice. He shook his head. ¡°You have to slow down or I won¡¯t be able to follow.¡± Siv repeated the gestures and Vidar repeated them: Ida, kill, him. ¡°No,¡± he said, repeating the previous gesture to sign no at the same time. ¡°I did.¡± Her eyes widened and he quickly explained, ¡°They were trying to kill me. It was self-defense.¡± She breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Also, Torbjorn is dead. Also self-defense.¡± Siv narrowed her eyes. ¡°He kidnapped me and tried to get Ida¡¯s location out of me. Then, when he realized I didn¡¯t know where Ida is, he started asking about where to find you.¡± She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it over. It read ¡°how¡± without a question mark at the end. Still, it was impressive writing progress for just a few days of learning by herself. For some reason, the letters stayed put, allowing him to read without issue. Perhaps his mind and body were just too tired to sabotage him. She made a sign. How. Vidar mirrored the sign, then answered, ¡°Torbjorn wasn¡¯t careful enough.¡± That answer, however vague, seemed to satisfy her. ¡°Torbjorn is dead?¡± The question came from over by the corner, where Erik was getting up, rubbing his eyes. ¡°He is,¡± Vidar confirmed. Erik looked like he was considering how he felt about that, but then shrugged. ¡°Is there any food left?¡± ¡°You have done a fine job with gathering materials. Did you find out why the gates are closed?¡± ¡°Good thing we¡¯ve been building muscle digging graves. Dragging wood around all day has been a real pain in our asses.¡± ¡°The gates?¡± ¡°For our safety,¡± they said. Vidar raised an eyebrow but Erik just shrugged and punched his still-sleeping friend. ¡°That¡¯s what the soldiers said. Do you want us to find more wood or do we have enough, you reckon?¡± ¡°This is enough. Any more and we won¡¯t be able to walk through the room.¡± ¡°What¡¯re we supposed to do, then?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. You still refuse to learn rune crafting?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not touching that witchery,¡± Erik said. Sven sat and yawned. ¡°I¡¯ll learn.¡± Erik¡¯s head whipped to face his friend. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t see no harm in it. Serious coin, no? Why not?¡± ¡°It¡¯s dangerous, for one.¡± Sven shrugged. ¡°Eh.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m not doing it.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Oh, I actually do have a job for you, then.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Vidar gave him the location of his father¡¯s house and a description of his little sister, handing him a small algiz rune. ¡°Wait for my sister to exit, then give her this and tell her it¡¯s from me and that it¡¯s a secret.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not good with those sorts of things,¡± Erik complained. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do fine.¡± Vidar gave Sven the same lesson he¡¯d given Siv and set the boy to attempt triggering a kenaz rune. To Siv, he explained how to channel essence from herself into the rune and what to expect once she managed it, urging her to be careful. ¡°Remember,¡± he said, about an hour later. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone about what I¡¯m teaching you.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Sven asked, looking up from the rune he had yet to trigger. ¡°The rune scribes¡¯ guild will have our heads if they find out.¡± Vidar was suddenly pulled by his shoulder, almost making him stumble and fall. ¡°What the hell are you saying?¡± Erik barked, getting far too close for comfort. ¡°This thing we¡¯re doing, it¡¯s illegal?¡± ¡°Nothing you¡¯re doing is illegal, Erik, I don¡¯t think,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Me, Siv, and Sven though? Absolutely. Why do you think no one else is doing it?¡± Erik¡¯s rush of anger died away as easily as it¡¯d bubbled to the surface. ¡°Because it¡¯s witchcraft?¡± ¡°Anyone can do this. There¡¯s nothing witchy about it.¡± When the stubborn adolescent didn¡¯t reply, Vidar continued, ¡°I¡¯m going out.¡± ¡°Maybe you should stay in bed a little longer?¡± Sven asked, and Siv pointed to the lad and nodded. Vidar shook his head and turned away after grabbing a small bag and filling it with runes. ¡°I¡¯ve lost too much time already. Who knows when the dragon will return.¡± ¡°What does the dragon have to do with anything?¡± Erik asked. ¡°Everything,¡± Vidar said, buttoning his coat as he left the room. Going down the stairs made his legs tremble and his knees almost gave out, but he finally managed to make his way down and out of the building. With the sun up and no clouds in the sky, the light reflected on the droves of snow, blinding him. The cold air going down into his lungs made Vidar cough, but it also brought with it a sense of refreshment, of health. His hand itched something fierce and still pained him, but it was much improved. The veterinarian would not get the satisfaction of cutting it off after all. As he walked toward the rune scribes¡¯ chapter house, trying to figure out a better way of getting in touch with Alvarn without having to lurk outside his school, he fingered one of the empty runes in his pocket. The recessed lines told him it was a kenaz rune without having to look. Vidar transferred a little essence into the rune and then removed it from the bag, then repeated the process with another. No one would buy empty runes, after all. Once his fingers and hand transitioned from that tingling sensation to numbness, he stopped. Rendering his only functional hand useless was not prudent. When people glanced his way, and they had a tendency to do that a lot for some reason, probably the smell, he always glared back. Vidar wasn¡¯t too worried about the thieves¡¯ guild attacking him anymore, not when they didn¡¯t suspect him for Yallander¡¯s death, so these onlookers were just looking down their noses at him. The incessant itching in the palm of his left hand kept drawing his attention. Vidar focused and saw the circle in his mind. Torbjorn¡¯s essence still remained, undiminished. Curious, he drew some from the rune and into himself. The numbness in his hand was immediately restored. ¡°Interesting,¡± he said, drawing the attention of a street merchant selling bread with some tomato-based fish mush spread over a slice. ¡°Bread ¡¯n fishes?¡± the man asked, rubbing his hands together to work some warmth into his fingers. Vidar¡¯s stomach rumbled. A moment later, he was wolfing down two slices of rough bread with reddish paste between them, having paid a few copper coins from Torbjorn¡¯s pouch. Continuing up the straight street that¡¯d eventually lead him to Alvarn, Vidar continued rejuvenating runes and then replenishing his own essence from the rune in the palm of his hand, imagining how amazed Alvarn would be once he learned what the new rune was actually capable of. They needed a name for it. Not having fully recovered, the weakness reared its ugly head. Vidar had to stop and regain his breath. Panting, with sweat making the shirt cling to his chest and back underneath the coat, he drew more from the rune to give himself a little vigor, not really thinking about what he was doing. It worked to a degree. Going over what was the natural limit in his body still made him nauseous, and the fact it was Torbjorn¡¯s essence only served to worsen the effect. Despite those drawbacks, it did let him catch his breath and feel a little stronger. ¡°Health has fled you, little scribe.¡± Vidar spun to come face-to-face with Lytir sitting with his back to the wall of someone¡¯s home, out in the open where Vidar should¡¯ve spotted him coming up the street. ¡°Lytir! Where did you come from?¡± ¡°Never left. Lowly creatures such as I are ever present upon the streets where boots tread day in and day out.¡± ¡°You knew about the dragon before it arrived. Who are you?¡± The smile never left Lytir¡¯s face, but he neither confirmed nor denied Vidar¡¯s assertion. ¡°A demon, an angel, a lowly vagrant begging for scraps.¡± ¡°Will the dragon return?¡± ¡°All beings return to dust in the end. And so shall you, as well, little scribe. Now tell me, why is your constitution in such a fraught state?¡± Vidar held up his hand. ¡°Burned my hand.¡± ¡°Not on a dragon¡¯s flame, I¡¯d wager.¡± ¡°No,¡± Vidar muttered. ¡°A stupid spear.¡± Lytir¡¯s eyes shone with interest. ¡°A formidable weapon to harm one as mighty as you, little scribe. Is it still in your possession?¡± Vidar kept a close eye on the vagrant¡¯s expression and saw a hint of disappointment when he answered. ¡°No. It crumbled to dust when I touched it.¡± ¡°A pity.¡± ¡°You know the weapon I speak of,¡± Vidar said, forming the words as a statement, rather than a question. ¡°Someone such as I needs a keen interest in all things martial.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to make that spear anew and slay the dragon when it returns.¡± ¡°Protecting your kind is often seen as a noble goal, even in the end.¡± ¡°I get the sense that you¡¯re more than you seem and that you¡¯re trying to help me, since you warned of my room burning to the ground,¡± Vidar said. Lytir kept that same mischievous smile but did not reply. ¡°But I don¡¯t understand who you are or what you¡¯re trying to achieve.¡± ¡°All I wish is to eke out a paltry existence for as long as I am able.¡± ¡°Either tell me something of use or leave me be, Lytir. I¡¯m a busy man these days.¡± Lytir stood and stretched out to his full height, towering over Vidar. When he spoke, Lytir¡¯s voice sounded deeper and gravelly. ¡°The rune burned into your flesh is named styrka. Fitting, when you consider its use. Prepare yourself, little scribe, for the skybound menace returns two sunups hence to dig for its roots. Be wary of priests, Vidar, for your days of leisure are over.¡± ¡°The dragon will return the day after tomorrow? How do you know this, Lytir?!¡± Lytir¡¯s smile widened even further. ¡°I hear whispers. I see shadows. Both are foes, neither friends. Crushed between those who were and who will be again. Unless?¡± ¡°Unless what?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Prepare yourself, little scribe. Know that you have a friend in me.¡± Lytir¡¯s face returned to its normal fixed and pleasant smile, and he sat back down and pulled a book out from under his still-dry tunic. The title read A Dance of Shadows. Chapter 37
¡°We¡¯re not done,¡± Vidar said, hunching over near Lytir. ¡°I¡¯ve got more questions.¡± Lytir opened the book and started to read. ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted, waving his hand in front of the vagrant¡¯s face. ¡°Vidar!¡± Vidar stood and turned. ¡°Alvarn! What are you doing here?¡± ¡°What are you doing?¡± Alvarn asked. Vidar turned back to Lytir, who was gone. ¡°Dammit!¡± Alvarn looked worried. ¡°You don¡¯t look so well, Vidar.¡± Then he spotted something, and the color drained from his face. ¡°Come with me.¡± Dragging him by the arm, Alvarn entered an alehouse. In the early morning, it was almost empty. He gestured with two fingers to the barkeep, then hurried over to a circular wooden table near the wall to their left. Vidar followed, glancing back at the door to the street. ¡°What¡¯s got you spooked, Alvarn?¡± ¡°Sit down,¡± Alvarn whispered. His face was red now, flushed and sweaty. The beers arrived and Alvarn emptied half his glass, followed by a contented sigh. ¡°Now, will you tell me?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°What are you doing here? I was just coming to find you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for you. To warn you.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°A man came to the guild to make inquiries. They heard about someone making a nuisance of themselves and talking with me outside the chapter house, so I was ordered to the head scribe¡¯s office. It was a soldier who wanted to interrogate me!¡± ¡°Did he say why?¡± ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Alvarn said, eyeing Vidar¡¯s still-full glass. ¡°Are you going to drink that?¡± Vidar pushed the glass across the table and Alvarn grabbed it and gulped almost half of its contents before continuing, ¡°He was looking for you. I¡¯m not sure how, but they¡¯ve been talking with almost every scribe in town. Regular scribes, I mean, and Vidar, they found your family.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have anything to do with them anymore.¡± Alvarn gave him a strange look but did not let the comment discourage him from continuing. ¡°The soldier seemed to have come to the same conclusion, which led him to the rune scribes, where it didn¡¯t take them long to figure out who you¡¯d been talking to. Like I said, the others don¡¯t like me much, and seeing me talking with someone who also threatened them made an impression.¡± The words were flowing out of Alvarn like water down a waterfall and Vidar found himself having some trouble keeping up. ¡°Wait. So they know we¡¯re friends?¡± Alvarn¡¯s face reddened a little, and he looked down into his glass, repeating the word, ¡°friend,¡± before taking another sip, smaller this time. ¡°They know. That¡¯s why this soldier came to see, no, to interrogate me.¡± ¡°Who is this soldier, and what did you tell him?¡± ¡°He said his name was Jarl.¡± The floor seemed to drop from under Vidar. That confident bastard was looking for him, but why? Surely not because they suspected him in what happened in the jail? Then it dawned on Vidar. ¡°He struck me. An algiz rune protected me. That bastard knows about the new rune.¡± Alvarn swallowed hard. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell him anything, but I could tell he didn¡¯t believe me. They searched my room and found the book.¡± ¡°What book?¡± ¡°The one with the old runic language. It is forbidden. Shouldn¡¯t have been in the open library to begin with and now it¡¯s gone. Jarl took it with him.¡± ¡°Did he find any of the new runes? Stakra, algiz, or styrka?¡± Alvarn finished the second glass and held up a hand to order another before answering. ¡°No. They found nothing. It isn¡¯t safe keeping things in our rooms. The doors don¡¯t lock, so mine is often disturbed by other students. It was a mistake leaving the book there, but I didn¡¯t think anyone would see it among the others. No one has ever stolen a book from me.¡± ¡°Thieves don¡¯t care for books,¡± Vidar said, breathing a sigh of relief. ¡°What happened to your hand?¡± ¡°I have a burn mark with the styrka rune under these bandages.¡± That seemed to pique Alvarn¡¯s interest. ¡°What did you do? And where did you find its name?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± Vidar harrumphed. ¡°It¡¯s a long story, and I got the name from the friend who reads a lot.¡± ¡°The same one who named the stakra rune?¡± Vidar nodded absentmindedly. ¡°The very same.¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to meet him someday.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you would,¡± Vidar said. They sat in silence for a while until Alvarn received and finished most of a third glass. By then, he looked a lot more relaxed, a pleasant grin on his face, and his eyes looked glassy and out of focus. ¡°Why were you looking for me, anyway?¡± ¡°To tell you about the styrka rune. I¡¯ve found its purpose. The rune takes essence from others and stores it so you can tap into it later. Really useful. Also, I wanted to show you this.¡± Vidar handed over one of the gold coins he¡¯d found by the dragon, after checking their surroundings to make sure no one was watching. The glimmer of gold could make a thief of the most honest of men. ¡°Drain essence from others?¡± Alvarn asked, the focus returning to his eyes as he reached out to grab the coin without really seeing it. ¡°What would be the purpose of such a rune by the seawater intake?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Are you in trouble, Alvarn?¡± ¡°Trouble?¡± Alvarn asked. ¡°What trouble?¡± ¡°The soldier, Jarl. Did they throw you out of the guild or something?¡± ¡°No, no, nothing like that. The guild mistress has forbidden me from being associated with you, but that¡¯s all. As far as the Crown knows, I¡¯ve done nothing illegal. Come to think of it, the only action I¡¯ve taken that goes counter to the word of law is breaking into the water intake, as far as I¡¯m aware.¡± He finally gave the coin a good look then and his mouth fell open. Alvarn adjusted his glasses and held the coin closer for inspection. ¡°I¡¯ve only seen a gold coin once before, and nothing like this.¡± ¡°It¡¯s old, isn¡¯t it?¡± Alvarn asked. ¡°Beyond old. I¡¯ve seen currency from before Sveland was formed and the counting of years began anew with the first king, and this is not it.¡± He looked up at Vidar as he returned the coin. ¡°Vidar, this must be before even that. History before history.¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°It means the coin isn¡¯t just very old, it¡¯s ancient. How did you come by it?¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Vidar glanced around again, but the one drunk at the other end of the room didn¡¯t pay them any mind. ¡°Found a small chest of them underground right by a dragon skeleton surrounded by styrka runes.¡± ¡°And I thought I had big news because I found a way into another seawater intake,¡± Alvarn grumbled. ¡°What is with you and unearthing lost secrets?¡± ¡°You found two of the new runes with me, don¡¯t forget.¡± He waved that away. ¡°And a dragon? Underground?¡± Vidar nodded enthusiastically. ¡°Also, lines connected the styrka runes to each other. It looked like they were working together!¡± ¡°You have to show me,¡± Alvarn breathed. ¡°Runes joined together? I¡¯ve never heard of such a thing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure how it works, but I can¡¯t take you. The entrances are too small.¡± ¡°Not the ones by the intakes,¡± Alvarn protested. ¡°We have to go there anyway to fix the water cleaning. Winter won¡¯t be here much longer and once the snow is gone, Halmstadt¡¯s wells won¡¯t be able to sustain the population.¡± ¡°There is no time,¡± Vidar said. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Alvarn asked, gesturing for another beer. Vidar looked at the glasses arrayed before him but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°The dragon is returning the day after tomorrow. I have to find a smith and have him craft an arrow today. Otherwise, I¡¯ll never get it into position in time.¡± ¡°You¡¯re actually serious about killing that dragon? And how do you know it¡¯s coming back?¡± ¡°Of course I¡¯m serious!¡± Vidar stood and shouted, unable to keep his temper. He breathed in deep and sat back down. ¡°Of course I¡¯m serious. There won¡¯t be anyone left to drink water if everything is burned to the ground.¡± ¡°How do you know it¡¯s coming?¡± ¡°Lytir told me.¡± ¡°The mad vagrant told you to expect a visit from the dragon.¡± Vidar nodded, fully aware of how insane it sounded. Lytir¡¯s bottle of ink was half-full at best, but there was something undeniably sage-like about him. He¡¯d been right in his predictions before. ¡°Can you lend me the key, then?¡± ¡°Key?¡± ¡°To the underground.¡± Vidar swallowed hard and closed his right hand around the heavy metal key. It was like a buoy in heavy storms, a way of always finding safety where no one could reach him. He trusted his new friend. He really did, but with this? ¡°I¡¯ll need it to sneak the arrow to those big crossbows by the keep.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll unlock the door. It¡¯s well hidden, like the last one, then return the key to you later today. You have my word.¡± Vidar handed the key over with a sigh. ¡°Today. Make a copy if you like, but only one.¡± ¡°My purse is light after buying supplies for experimenting with stakra runes and not being able to sell much lately.¡± ¡°I believe it,¡± Vidar said, placing a few silver coins on the table. ¡°Take these.¡± He winced when he stood, the weakness making itself known again. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come work with me instead, Alvarn? Resign from the guild. It would make finding you a whole lot easier.¡± Alvarn downed the last of his beer and scooped up the coins with a grateful nod. ¡°I¡¯ve considered the very thing, but I have neither the stomach nor the nerve for illegal rune craft. In another year¡¯s time, I won¡¯t be a student. Then I¡¯ll be free to come and go as I please.¡± ¡°A year is a long time.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Alvarn agreed. ¡°Until then, where are you staying?¡± Vidar gave him the street and the name of the inn. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll return the key to you there. If you need to get ahold of me, have someone you trust deliver a letter to the guild. Best not show your face there anymore. They are obliged by rule and law to deliver it directly to me without reading its contents.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll remember that,¡± Vidar said. They parted ways and Vidar¡¯s pocket mourned the loss, if temporary, of the key to his underground kingdom. Alvarn disappeared down the street with a slight wobble to his step and Vidar turned to walk the other way. Now that he didn¡¯t have to make it all the way to the guild chapter house, he figured it was best to start his search in Andersburg. Drawing in some more of the styrka rune¡¯s essence to give himself a small boost, he headed toward the merchant district. In Rat Town, the merchant district wasn¡¯t so much a district. It was more of a shabby street with vendors and craftsmen. He hadn¡¯t ever visited before but knew roughly where to find it. Since it was the middle of the day and the sun was still up, the place was bustling when he got there. Cursing to himself, he pressed his back against a wall to peek around a corner. Two guardsmen, rough-looking fellows, stood at the end of the street, watching the crowd impassively. Two more would stand at the other end. Vidar was certain of it. But that wasn¡¯t all. Another two walked around in the crowd, holding up a piece of paper. At that distance, seeing the face on that paper was impossible, but Vidar knew without looking. He briefly considered finding some sort of disguise, like the rune scribe student robe he¡¯d kept from his visit to their library, but discarded the idea. Such clothing would only serve to distinguish him from the rest of the crowd and draw the attention of the guards. Unsure how to proceed, he stopped a man walking past with a heavy bag of potatoes. ¡°Do you know of any weaponsmiths?¡± ¡°Piss off!¡± the man shouted, shouldering past. ¡°Rude,¡± Vidar muttered. He looked up and felt the color drain from his face. One of the guards was looking his way, probably having heard the potato bastard¡¯s shout. They locked eyes just before Vidar turned about. ¡°Shit,¡± Vidar said, turning around and walking away. ¡°Shit shit shit!¡± He ducked back around the corner and walked back to the previous street to make sure he wasn¡¯t being followed. No guardsman approached his previous hiding spot, so he figured he was still safe. All he needed was to make his way inside a smithy without being seen. If guardsmen patrolled both ends of the street, they probably didn¡¯t check the tight passages. Going by that conclusion, Vidar walked behind the buildings in the merchant¡¯s corner. None of them looked like the back of a blacksmith¡¯s or weaponsmith¡¯s shop, so he took a long way around to the other side of the street. And there he found it. A smithy. Vidar needed to rest for a moment, his breathing rapid and shallow. Then, he tried the handle to the back door, and to his amazement, it was unlocked. Slipping inside, he found living quarters. It made sense. A blacksmith would live in his shop in Rat Town. Thankfully, it was empty. A short passageway brought him to the front of the house and the smithy proper. There was no forge running to create warmth, and no rhythmic ringing of a hammer or the hissing of water from hot metal being cooled. An old man sat half-asleep in a chair near the middle of the room. A pair of double doors stood open on the other side, leading out onto the street. Aside from the old man and himself, the smithy was empty. Vidar wanted to sneak around the smith, to make it look like he had come from the front. As he moved, he knocked something over, and metal clanged against stone as it skidded across the floor. The old man woke with a start. ¡°Who are you? What are you doing back there?¡± Vidar held up both hands. ¡°I¡¯m not here to harm you.¡± ¡°Harm me, boy? I¡¯ll show you¡ª¡± The old man was about to shout something more, but in the split second before all was lost, Vidar barreled through. ¡°I have coin.¡± The old man¡¯s shoulders relaxed a little, and he narrowed his eyes. ¡°What does coin have to do with you breaking into my home?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a customer.¡± Vidar held up some silver to show in the dim light coming from outside. None of the kenaz runes in the shop were active. ¡°A customer that comes through the back?¡± the smith scoffed. ¡°A customer who will pay extra?¡± The smith sat back down into his chair with a thud. ¡°It does not matter. Even this coin won¡¯t be enough to make this place run again. The guild is out helping the ones who got their homes torched. They care little for my forge, my livelihood. I can¡¯t even pay them to come here. Bastards.¡± Vidar breathed deeply and nodded. ¡°Bastards, indeed.¡± He looked at the open doors leading to the forge and decided to take a risk. ¡°What if I rejuvenate your forge?¡± The smith got a strange, faraway expression on his face, but then his eyes focused on Vidar, now filled with suspicion. ¡°You, rejuvenate a rune, boy? What kind of scam is this? Get the hell out of my shop.¡± Vidar casually reached up and touched a light rune on the wall. He rejuvenated it just enough to last half a day or so. The bright light seemed to blind the smith, who shut his eyes tight and shuddered. ¡°You¡¯re with the rune scribes, boy?¡± the old man asked, disbelief and fear mingling in his voice. ¡°I am. My robe was dirty, so I had to go without it today. I¡¯m on my day of leisure.¡± ¡°A day of leisure, hmm? Sounds nice. And now you want old Hamlin to make you something, and you¡¯ll fix my forge. Is that it? Why not go somewhere else, not that there are many forges running in the city outside the keep these days?¡± Hamlin glanced at the door, then returned his gaze to Vidar. ¡°So, what is it you¡¯re looking for? I¡¯ll gladly craft you something if you make my forge come alive again.¡± ¡°I need a weapon,¡± Vidar said without hesitation. ¡°Or more like an arrow. A large one. Like a spear, almost.¡± The smith, Hamlin, gave him an incredulous look. ¡°A weapon? An arrow, you say? I make tools, barrels, wagons, and scythes, the occasional knife, but an arrow?¡± He paused. ¡°You want me to make an arrowhead?¡± Vidar thought back to the spear he had found inside the dead dragon. There had been bits of metal on it, bands around the handle, but the handle itself was made of wood, and the head¡­ out of bone. Unsure how to proceed, he pulled out one of the spikes, making the man shy back as if threatened. ¡°No, no,¡± Vidar said quickly. ¡°I¡¯m just showing you. This needs to be the head of the arrow. You know how to craft an arrow, don¡¯t you?¡± The smith¡¯s gaze shifted to the door again, but he replied, ¡°I think I can manage something. Normally, you¡¯d want a fletcher to create an arrow, but I don¡¯t think they make them this large. Not with a head like that, anyway. ¡°Why don¡¯t you get my forge all nice and warm,¡± the smith suggested, ¡°and I¡¯ll go out back and grab some tools.¡± ¡°What about the price?¡± Vidar asked. ¡°Having my forge running again,¡± the smith said with a weary smile, ¡°is the only price I could ask for.¡± The smith walked out back, and Vidar approached the forge. A slot at the bottom let him touch the sowilo rune without having to reach all the way down from the top. It was indeed empty, and Vidar poured essence into it, simultaneously drawing from the styrka rune in the palm of his hand. When the warmth rune was about halfway full, only a little remained in his reservoir, so he let that be enough. It would give the smith plenty of time to work on other things once he was done with Vidar¡¯s arrow. When he straightened his back again, the room darkened somewhat as someone filled the open doorway at the front of the smithy. He looked and froze. A city guard. ¡°You! Stop right there!¡± Vidar spun and was about to run out the back, but a guard appeared there as well. Of the smith, there was no sign. ¡°Bastard,¡± Vidar cursed through gritted teeth. Chapter 38
Guardsmen approached from both sides, more of them filling into the room behind the first set, quickly closing in as Vidar desperately backed away toward one of the thin wooden walls, searching for a way out. There was no other exit. No way out. Vidar considered the contents of his pockets and wondered how far he could get with a stakra rune, pushing his way through the guardsmen. But no, he did not want to harm anyone if he could help it. After what happened in the jail, he thought he could regulate the power of the rune to make the impact nonlethal, but this was not the time for such a test. Still, he grabbed the stakra rune and the algiz. If no exit remained to him, no option for escape, he¡¯d just have to make his own. With guardsmen closing in, backing Vidar up against the wall, he spun, braced himself, and then triggered the stakra rune. The wall was torn apart by the thrust rune and the force pushed him back a little, almost into the arms of the guardsmen. Planks were forced out of place and nails shot outward as the whole thing crumbled. Vidar saw the snow outside and threw himself forward with a whoop of fear and exhilaration, holding up the algiz rune to protect himself from debris crashing down. Something heavy struck the rune and a shimmering blue, translucent barrier appeared, then crumpled as Vidar cleared the wall. He fell onto the snowy ground, reflexively catching himself with both hands. Pain bloomed in his left hand and the bandages dampened after contact with the snow. Suppressing another cry, he stood and shuffled away, glancing back at the destruction behind him. With the broken-down wall, not enough remained to support the roof, and it leaned down dangerously. He saw no guardsmen, but he hoped the bastards hadn¡¯t been buried in the rubble. ¡°Here!¡± someone shouted behind him. Vidar turned down a different street, then another, increasing his speed. Finding a narrow path between houses, he squeezed in. On exiting that path, he spotted a pile of shoveled snow stacked near a pile of boxes. Hurrying over, his knee threatened to give, but he pushed through, digging into the snow with his one good hand. Once the hole was big enough, he hid the items he didn¡¯t want to be caught with. All his runes fit that category, the algiz, stakra, and styrka runes chief among them, as well as the bone spikes. Once he was satisfied no one would find them, he set off again. Vidar made another few turns before emerging right behind a guard. At first, he froze, but then turned and hurried the other way. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t make it far until someone spotted him and the chase began anew. In his weakened state, Vidar didn¡¯t stand a chance, and he soon found himself surrounded by guardsmen leering down at him. If he¡¯d kept his runes and fought, perhaps he might¡¯ve won, but from the sounds of men running and shouting, more of them were converging on his position. The memory of the jail cell flashed in his mind. Vidar didn¡¯t want to kill anyone else if he could avoid it. Another memory popped up as a fist barreling into his stomach doubled him over. Ida and Siv coming to his rescue from a very similar position. No one would be coming this time. Vidar desperately shielded his hand to keep the kicks from reopening the wounds. Instead, they landed in his face, his gut, and even his legs and back. They were relentless and Vidar didn¡¯t even get enough air after that first blow to cry out in pain. When they finally stopped on the order of someone approaching, Vidar was barely clinging on to consciousness. Blood ran down his nose and his left ear only picked up a loud, shrill tone. Even in his dazed state, he saw the face of the one who¡¯d stopped the brutes from killing him outright. Guard Captain Anderson. The gruff, mustached authority who¡¯d met with Embla to comment on the recent thefts. Two guards pulled Vidar to his feet and held him up by his arms. Anderson leaned in close enough for his billowing breath cloud to reach Vidar¡¯s face. ¡°Vidar,¡± Anderson said, speaking slowly. ¡°Remember me? We¡¯ve been looking for you.¡± His face betrayed no emotion or reason for Vidar¡¯s capture. No rage or even mild annoyance, just a man who seldom found himself surprised in his profession anymore. Boredom. Not the face of someone who¡¯d just caught a killer, surely? Vidar hung his head and pretended to fall unconscious. If they wanted to drag him to a cell somewhere, they better believe he wouldn¡¯t be walking on his own. They tied his hands and legs, the rough treatment bringing new pain to his palm, then brought forth a cart with workers to drag it. Apparently, they didn¡¯t feel like carrying him all the way to whatever dark hole they wanted to shove him into. The winding way to wherever they were going was long enough that Vidar recovered a little. He sat huddled against the side of the cart. To his horror, he realized he¡¯d forgotten to dump the hidden sowilo runes. Now, with his hands bound and his muscles screaming at him in pain, it was too late. Guardsmen surrounded the cart, which drew the attention of everyone they passed. All eyes were on him and Vidar did not like it. ¡°Why have you apprehended me?¡± His voice was barely more than a croak. All the guardsmen ignored him. Guard Captain Anderson had chosen not to accompany the group. ¡°Answer me, bastards!¡± he shouted. One of the guardsmen, a young man with a large, purple birthmark covering almost the entire side of his face, who walked by the side of the cart, leaned over the side and poked Vidar hard in the side, just below the ribs. ¡°Shut your mouth!¡± ¡°Ow!¡± He rode upon the cart in silence for a while, considering his prospects of escape. In his bruised and battered state, even if he freed his hands and feet, he wouldn¡¯t get far. The puny weapon in the inner pocket of his coat would not be much help. Not now, anyway. He¡¯d get his chance later, once they reached their destination. Vidar was certain of it. With his mastery of runes, who could keep him locked up for longer than it took him to write a few lines? He¡¯d use his blood again if all other tools were taken from him. Just like with the knife, the ink and brushes jostled around in his pockets while the cart bucked this way and that, going up the cobbled street. The endless ride lulled him into a half-asleep state. Only when they reached the inner wall did a particularly heavy bump jostle him awake. Onlookers gaped at the prisoner going through the gate, but to Vidar¡¯s surprise, they did not head for the jail. Instead, they kept dragging and pushing the cart up the long slope to the keep. ¡°We¡¯re going up there?¡± he asked the ugly one who¡¯d poked him. The guard held up the finger he¡¯d used to poke Vidar, as if daring him to keep talking. Vidar sighed and slumped back. Less than two days until the dragon returned, according to Lytir, and here he was being dragged into the keep. They should already be hailing him as a hero for his effort to craft a weapon capable of felling the dragon. Instead, they gawked. He wanted to stand up on the cart and demand his release and the praise of all those who stared at him, slack-jawed and with nothing behind their eyes. They approached a side gate into the keep and the guardsmen bustled him out of the cart and through a heavy wooden gate. Two of them walked in front and two behind, with two more holding his arms, making the corridor feel cramped. Kenaz runes were set into the stone on metal plates every couple of steps, giving ample light to see by as they reached a spiraling set of wooden steps leading upward into the belly of the keep. Vidar slumped, trying to force the ones holding his arms to carry him, but that just earned a gauntleted hand into his gut. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. He coughed and wheezed, trying to get his breath back while walking up the stairs. Landings appeared at regular intervals with corridors leading off into some other part of the keep. Some of those corridors were carpeted with the colors of the Crown, red and white, with pictures hanging in heavy gold-painted frames on the walls, while other corridors were empty except for servants in livery scurrying this way and that. By the time they reached their destination, Vidar had lost count of how many floors they¡¯d walked. He was breathing hard, sweat streaming down his face. He hadn¡¯t seen any sowilo runes, but with the air this warm, there had to be plenty hidden away from sight. Even the guardsmen were sweating and grumbling among themselves, throwing evil glances Vidar¡¯s way, like it was his fault they were forced to trek all this way. The corridor they walked into was one of the sparse ones with heavy wooden doors along the left wall. A single chair was placed by the opposite wall, each facing a door. All chairs except one were occupied by an incredibly bored-looking guard. A long line of faces turned to Vidar when he approached in the middle of a clump of guardsmen, bustling him forward like a group of bodyguards. Unsurprisingly, the one door without someone guarding it was meant for Vidar. The front two men escorting him opened the door and then waited outside while Vidar and the four remaining guardsmen entered. It was a cell. No other words were really needed to describe the bare stone room. A single kenaz rune was placed above the door, shining far too bright. A metal grate was set into the stone floor. ¡°Take off your clothes!¡± one of the guards barked, letting go of his arm. Vidar looked between four impassive sets of eyes. ¡°You must be joking.¡± Yet another blow to his stomach doubled Vidar over, and this time he could not keep his food down. Red mush, hopefully from the tomatoes, splashed against the floor. Some of it got on the guardsmen¡¯s boots. Served the horrible bastards right, Vidar figured as he wiped his mouth. ¡°Off with the clothes, rat!¡± that same guard said, pulling back his fist, daring Vidar to mouth off again. Vidar raised a hand, still coughing. ¡°Fine, fine. Relax.¡± He removed his coat, looked for somewhere to hang it, then shrugged and threw it into a corner, careful not to let it land in his vomit. ¡°Now the shirt.¡± Vidar couldn¡¯t help himself. ¡°What?¡± The guardsmen moved forward as one. Two grabbed his arms again and the other two drew knives. Vidar screamed and kicked his feet, terrified they were going to end his life right then and there. Instead, they began cutting the clothes off his body. Once he was down to his smallclothes, they thankfully backed off. One of the guardsmen, an old geezer who¡¯d shown surprising strength in manhandling him, gathered up Vidar¡¯s clothes, including the jacket, and left the cell. Two of the remaining ones each grabbed an arm and forcefully pushed him to the back wall, where metal cuffs were inlaid into the walls. ¡°Now, hold on a moment!¡± Vidar shouted. If he couldn¡¯t even move his arms, there was no way he was getting out. They ignored him and the restraints clicked shut around his forearms. Vidar tested his strength against them immediately, thrashing this way and that with no result whatsoever. He was firmly stuck. To make himself feel a little better, he kicked one of the guards as he was turning away, making him stumble forward and almost fall. ¡°Take that, you bastard!¡± The guard righted himself and drew in a deep breath without turning back. He began walking away again. ¡°That¡¯s right! Scurry away, coward!¡± The guard turned, took three long steps back into the cell, and suddenly Vidar¡¯s vision blurred and he saw stars swirling before his eyes. His neck hurt something fierce, and when he finally managed to raise his head back up, the guardsmen were gone and the door closed. Vidar spat blood, cursing his temper. The metal bands wrapped around his forearms were firmly stuck and were placed far too high up on the wall, forcing Vidar¡¯s arms up into a most uncomfortable position. His hands stuck out at the other end of the cuffs, but his one and only attempt at pulling his good hand through showed he needn¡¯t have bothered. There was no getting out without losing his entire hand. Not a sacrifice he was willing to make. The light rune directly opposite him shone its oppressive light right into his eyes. Even closing his eyelids, the brightness shone through. Sounds were coming from the other side of the closed doors. Guardsmen speaking, he figured. With so much solid material between them, there was no way he could eavesdrop. The mystery soon resolved itself, however, because the door opened back up and a bunch of those liveried servants shuffled inside carrying large buckets of water. Three women and two men all wore the same colors, the steward¡¯s colors, of a lighter red on a field of purple. Strong, bright colors, especially compared to the drab grays and browns the men and women of Andersburg wore. ¡°You smell,¡± one of the women said. She was a matronly one with wide, bulky hips. Her thick forearms and calloused hands hinted at hard work. ¡°Thanks,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Filth spreads disease. We will clean you now.¡± ¡°What?¡± was all Vidar had time to get out before they each, in turn, stepped up to throw their buckets of water right at him. It wasn¡¯t just water, he realized after getting some into his mouth as he was cursing the ground they stood upon. Soap had been added to it. The temperature was right above freezing and he gasped each time one of them added to his painful existence. His hair was matted to his head and his smallclothes were soaked, as was the bandage on his hand. Once all buckets were empty, the matronly woman stepped up and cut through the bandage with a pair of scissors. She smelled the wound and recoiled, then pursed her lips. ¡°What?¡± he asked, now shuddering despite the heated rooms. Rather than answering, she swiped a towel hanging from a leather belt around her waist and began rubbing his body. The others joined her in drying him off and he screamed, then laughed as the rough fabric tickled him. ¡°Stop that, you bastards!¡± He tried kicking them, but that angered the men, who grabbed hold of his legs, putting Vidar in a most undignified position. The other woman was younger, only a few years Vidar¡¯s senior, he guessed, and she smiled at him, enjoying his discomfort. More water was carried in and they emptied them over his head. This time, it was just water, and they didn¡¯t stick around to wipe him off after. A moment later, the matronly woman returned with a brown glass bottle, which she uncorked and poured into Vidar¡¯s wound. It stung almost as much as the alcohol the veterinarian used, and he screamed in agony and hurled profanities her way until he was breathing too hard to keep talking. ¡°Medicine,¡± she said, holding the bottle in front of his face and pointing to the wound. ¡°Sick.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± he said, his face hanging toward the floor. ¡°Just leave me alone.¡± The warmth made the room dry up him quickly enough and most of the water ran into the grate in the floor. Weakness and hunger warred in his limp body, fighting over which was hurting him most. With no modes of escape, all Vidar could do was bide his time. The problem was, waiting was painfully boring. However many hours later, Vidar was attempting to draw blood by digging into one big toe with the other. He wasn¡¯t sure what sort of rune he could use on the floor right in front of him to escape, but he just could stand there idle anymore. He¡¯d examined his now unbandaged palm as best as he could, strapped to the wall as he was. The lines didn¡¯t look as deep anymore now that the swelling had gone down, but the skin was still angrily red and, while he was able to move his fingers a lot better, full dexterity still eluded him. The veterinarian had done a good job with his strange poultice and the result was surprisingly good after such a short amount of time, though he worried the wound¡¯s condition would worsen in these squalid conditions. ¡°Hey!¡± Vidar shouted at the closed door. ¡°Hey!¡± The murmur of voices on the other side silenced for a brief moment, then continued speaking, ignoring him. ¡°Why am I in here?!¡± A while later, he tried again. ¡°I demand representation!¡± A loud bang rang out, and the door shuddered. ¡°Shut up in there!¡± Vidar didn¡¯t appreciate the guard¡¯s tone of voice, so he did the opposite. ¡°LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT! ¡°BASTARDS! ¡°YOU¡¯LL BE SORRY YOU DID THIS TO ME!¡± It was silent on the other side again, then the lock clicked and the door swung open. Four guardsmen walked in. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Now release me!¡± When he came to a while later, after the beating he¡¯d just received, the kenaz rune no longer shone. ¡°Must¡¯ve run out,¡± Vidar mumbled through swollen lips. His left eye barely opened and he could not draw too deep a breath or he would start coughing until he almost passed out. That ringing in his ears from before was back, a result of someone striking the side of his head. His wrists stung something fierce from carrying his weight after Vidar blacked out, but when he attempted to stand, his legs barely held his weight. ¡°Bastards,¡± he muttered. At some point, he fell asleep, or fell unconscious again. When he woke, the rune once again shone its blinding light. Someone was standing by his side, examining his hand. A woman. A female rune scribe, judging by the robe she wore. Chapter 39 ¡°Hey!¡± Vidar barked, closing his hand to hide the rune despite the pain. She sighed and walked up to stand in front of him. Her face looked soft, with only a few wrinkles around the eyes, but the gray streaks in her otherwise light brown hair made her look older. ¡°Vidar,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯d hoped to examine you a little more before you woke.¡± ¡°I bet.¡± She regarded him in silence and he glared back for a long while, until he couldn¡¯t stand it anymore. ¡°You¡¯re with the rune scribes¡¯ guild. Who are you? How do you know me?¡± ¡°Perceptive young man. Not unlike the student of ours you¡¯ve been harassing.¡± ¡°Alvarn?¡± Vidar asked before being able to stop himself. She only smiled in reply, a knowing smile. ¡°My name is Viktoria and I am the guild mistress of the guild¡¯s chapter in Halmstadt. We were called upon when news of your arrest reached the steward.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Her warm and inviting demeanor irritated Vidar, because he just knew she was wearing that expression as a mask. Viktoria was enjoying this situation far too much. ¡°The guild is always involved in cases of illegal rune crafting. It has been a good long while since someone dared practice the art without our writ of approval.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Viktoria scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t think your activities around our chapter house haven¡¯t been noted. Your corrupting presence made one of our finest students betray our trust. It¡¯s always a pity to lose someone with such a bright future ahead of them.¡± ¡°You better not touch Alvarn!¡± Vidar shouted, the sudden swell of anger getting the upper hand against his attempt at keeping his wits about him. She tsked and stepped back at his outburst, but showed no sign of having been rattled. ¡°The skin around your wound is too swollen to see the sowilo rune burn mark, but I¡¯ll be glad to examine the hand once you recover. In the meantime, you will give me your account of how you came to the knowledge of rune craft and what you have used that knowledge for.¡± Vidar sneered. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about runes.¡± ¡°Alvarn¡¯s future might hang in the balance. Only your truth may still tilt the scales in the boy¡¯s favor.¡± ¡°Go eat a dragon¡¯s turd.¡± ¡°No need to be difficult, Vidar. Perhaps we ought to visit your home and have a conversation with your father. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s worried about the whereabouts of his son.¡± ¡°Just tell me what you want. Spit it out,¡± Vidar said, his patience running thin with Viktoria¡¯s incessant chatter. She seemed to think herself clever, but she clearly didn¡¯t know who she was dealing with. ¡°To the crux of the matter, then, Vidar,¡± Viktoria began, her tone turning sharp. ¡°We have suspicions that you¡¯ve stumbled upon secrets not meant for you.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Like a rune that protects you like a shield,¡± she said. Vidar¡¯s eyes widened. She knew. They knew. He had been so careful. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Vidar lied, but the look on her face told him he¡¯d already confirmed what she wanted to know. ¡°This is both a grave mistake on your part, taking what is not yours, but it is also cause for celebration. Many runes are thought to be lost, and now you¡¯ve found one. One that would be most useful. So, I am here to propose a way to end this without bloodshed.¡± ¡°I told you¡ª¡± Vidar began, but she held up a hand to silence him. ¡°Instruct the guild in the use of this new rune, Vidar, and we will relinquish our claim. Your life, after all, is ours to decide the fate of, based on the charges brought upon you.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t heard a single piece of evidence,¡± Vidar countered, suspicious of what Viktoria was playing at. If the guild already knew about these runes, they wouldn¡¯t need to propose such a deal. They wanted information. The knowledge. They wanted it badly enough to bargain for it. Vidar considered this and then said, ¡°I have a counterproposal.¡± Viktoria raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into an amused smile. ¡°Oh? This should be interesting.¡± ¡°If I do have this rune, as you claim, I think it would be worth more to you than just my pardon.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Viktoria asked, her tone cool. ¡°And what do you suggest as fair compensation for your discovery? And remember, your life is ours to claim if we wish.¡± ¡°You let Alvarn stay as a student, and you don¡¯t do anything to him. He had no part in this.¡± ¡°If it is as you claim¡ª¡± Vidar continued, cutting her off. ¡°Also, I¡¯ll need a writ from the guild allowing me to craft runes and sell them.¡± Viktoria¡¯s stoic expression barely wavered. ¡°That¡¯s quite the ask.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not finished,¡± Vidar said. ¡°I¡¯ll also need ten¡ªno, twenty percent of any coin made with the runes for which I provide the symbol.¡± For a moment, Viktoria held her composure before she burst out laughing, slapping her knee. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Vidar demanded, confused. After a moment, she straightened up and wiped tears from her eyes. ¡°Boy,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m no boy,¡± Vidar interrupted, his tone sharp. ¡°Boy,¡± she repeated, louder this time. ¡°Even if I had the authority to grant such a ridiculous request, which I don¡¯t, I would never. What sort of guild allows a nonmember trading privileges? It¡¯s never been done, certainly not in the rune scribes¡¯ guild.¡± She paused, then continued, ¡°Your desire to protect your friend is admirable, if misguided. But the demand for coin shows you for who you truly are, Vidar. Nothing more than a money-grubbing rat who¡¯s stumbled upon greatness.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Her insult hung heavy in the air, but Vidar broke the silence first. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡± Before Viktoria could answer, a noise came from outside the door, and it swung open. ¡°We do not have a deal, Vidar,¡± she said, her voice regaining its icy composure. ¡°It seems we must converse again at a later date. For now, our time is up.¡± A man entered the cell, and Vidar recognized him immediately. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Jarl asked. ¡°The guild has no right of entry here. I thought better of you, Viktoria. There is a procedure to these things.¡± Jarl towered over both Vidar and Viktoria with an aura of barely controlled anger. Viktoria turned to him, her voice suddenly pleasant. ¡°No harm, Marshal. The guild is merely curious about the little rat you¡¯ve caught, as I¡¯m sure you know. The Crown¡¯s claim to this boy is tenuous at best. Best not to make the mistake of ruling on his case without our express permission.¡± Jarl gestured to the door. ¡°The day I ask the guild for permission is the day I hand in my sword. You may leave, guild mistress.¡± ¡°Vidar,¡± Jarl began. ¡°I¡¯ve been beaten several times already,¡± Vidar interrupted. ¡°Why are you treating me like this? I¡¯ve broken no law.¡± Jarl sighed. ¡°We know all about your involvement in what happened. Vidar¡­ you are a murderer.¡± Vidar¡¯s reaction was too visceral to hide. Tears ran down his face as he hung his head, unable to keep eye contact with the man before him. Jarl continued, his voice short and clipped. ¡°The report is very clear about what happened. You infiltrated the jail to rescue your friend. Then, you attempted to break the lock with some sort of explosive. You failed and were found knocked out. The guards then placed you in your own cell. When you were set to be transferred, you attacked the guard who attempted to apprehend you. In the following altercation, the guard, Henry, died.¡± Jarl paused for a moment, his tone softening slightly. ¡°He was, by all accounts, not a very good man, with gambling and drink as his sole interests. He left no wife and no children.¡± He breathed in, then sighed, adding, ¡°But he lost his life by your hand. That equals murder. Do you understand?¡± Vidar looked up, his voice trembling. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do it. I was trying to get away and¡­ he strangled me.¡± He remembered the labored breathing, the guard¡¯s thick fingers around his neck. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to kill him. I was just trying to get him off me.¡± Jarl¡¯s icy expression didn¡¯t change. His eyes grew no less hard at the admission of guilt or the feeble explanation. ¡°The report found something else as well,¡± Jarl said, his voice sharp. ¡°Something very curious. The cause of death was a hole through the guard¡¯s chest, about the size of a fist. Can you tell me anything about that?¡± Vidar looked up sharply, locking eyes with Jarl. This man knew. His intense gaze made it clear that he was waiting for confirmation. ¡°Why does that matter?¡± Vidar asked hesitantly. ¡°This report has seen no other eyes than mine,¡± Jarl replied calmly, ¡°and the men taking care of the scene afterward have been sworn to secrecy. I¡¯m asking you, Vidar, because there is a path to redemption here for you. It is narrow, and I¡¯m not going to lie¡ªit will be difficult. But there is a solution for you if you cooperate with the steward and the Crown.¡± Vidar¡¯s heart sank. He knew where Jarl was heading, but didn¡¯t want to say it himself. The marshal wanted him to be the one to speak first. Vidar was tired¡ªtired of lying, tired of feeling like a killer. ¡°I have discovered new runes and taught myself the use of them,¡± Vidar admitted, his voice hollow. ¡°Old, lost runes.¡± A slight crease formed around Jarl¡¯s eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a small, knowing smile. He had indeed already known, and now Vidar had just confirmed it. ¡°And when you scurried away from me like a scared little rabbit,¡± Jarl teased, his tone playful. Anger swelled inside Vidar, and he threw himself against his restraints. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of you!¡± he shouted. ¡°You¡¯ve seen what I¡¯m capable of!¡± Jarl¡¯s face turned to stone again. ¡°Yes, Vidar, I have seen.¡± ¡°It was a shield,¡± Vidar sighed, defeated. ¡°A barrier, I¡¯m calling it.¡± ¡°Does the guild know?¡± Jarl asked. ¡°They do not,¡± Vidar replied. ¡°They know something, or Viktoria wouldn¡¯t have come here. I will make inquiries as to who leaked information to them. If they know anything, it¡¯s about what happened in that jail cell. Because, Vidar, your barrier¡­ I was the only one to see that.¡± ¡°You mentioned absolution,¡± Vidar said. ¡°What would I have to do?¡± ¡°Pardon,¡± Jarl corrected. ¡°Absolution is something only the priests can give, through the embrace of the fallen angels.¡± ¡°Religion,¡± Vidar spat. ¡°What about the law?¡± Jarl shook his head. ¡°No man is above the law. But perhaps your sentence can be in service to the Crown rather than at end of a noose.¡± Vidar flinched. Death. What other punishment could there be for murder? They shared a long, heavy silence. ¡°I don¡¯t care about the priests,¡± Vidar said finally, gathering the last of his courage. ¡°But I will do a lot to escape hanging.¡± He paused, then added, ¡°You need me, or you wouldn¡¯t be here. You need the runes for something. The dragon.¡± Jarl straightened, assuming his official stance. ¡°Indeed, you are required on the field of battle, Vidar.¡± Vidar had no intention of stepping onto a battlefield. ¡°I have information regarding the next attack,¡± he said. ¡°I know when it¡¯s coming, and I have the means to slay the dragon. I will share information with you¡­ for the right price.¡± Jarl scoffed. ¡°The right price? Is a pardon not enough for you?¡± ¡°My life is worth little,¡± Vidar countered. ¡°This should be interesting,¡± Jarl murmured. ¡°Tell me, Vidar, what sort of weapon have you discovered? One capable of killing a creature of myth¡ªa beast that even angels couldn¡¯t slay?¡± ¡°An arrow,¡± Vidar replied, ¡°capable of piercing a dragon¡¯s scales. Fire it from one of your wagons and the dragon¡¯s death is certain. But you must hurry. It will return soon. Very soon.¡± ¡°Wagons? Ah, you mean the ballistae,¡± Jarl said raising an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯ve designed heavier steel-tipped ones, meant to penetrate. Our tests show they can breach the strongest of walls.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not walls you need to breach,¡± Vidar said. ¡°It¡¯s a legendary creature. And I have delved into its mysteries.¡± Jarl reached into his coat and pulled out a gold coin. ¡°Is that why you have this?¡± ¡°That¡¯s mine!¡± Vidar shouted, futilely attempting to move his arm to snatch the coin from Jarl¡¯s hand. ¡°Gold in your pocket. If not for this, I would¡¯ve been here earlier. Since I did not recognize its make, I¡¯ve brought it before both our minters and some of our trustworthy historians.¡± He held the coin a little closer to Vidar¡¯s face. ¡°Vidar, do you know when this is from?¡± ¡°It¡¯s old.¡± ¡°Very old,¡± Jarl agreed. ¡°So old, in fact, it was minted when dragons still roamed the skies.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Peculiar coincidence, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°I told you I¡¯m your greatest asset in this. No one knows more about dragons than me. You need me. My arrow.¡± ¡°Our new arrows will work. What we need from you are shields to protect the ballistae. When the beast attacked last, most of our long-range weaponry was immediately torched.¡± Vidar didn¡¯t feel very confident in his next few words, and it probably showed. ¡°Your arrows won¡¯t work. Mine will.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll take our chances.¡± ¡°Like I said, the next attack is coming soon. Very soon. Release me and allow me to see whoever made your new arrows.¡± Vidar ran his tongue over his overly dry lips and spoke quickly, sensing Jarl¡¯s interest fading. ¡°Surely, there can be no harm in adding mine to the arsenal. I¡¯ll craft barriers to protect the ballistae. When my arrow is the one to fell the monster after yours fail, you¡¯ll grant me a pardon for any crimes committed and a writ to allow my trading in runes.¡± Jarl broke out into a short but powerful laugh before collecting himself. ¡°You are daring, I¡¯ll give you that. A writ cannot be bestowed by anyone beside the guild. Not even His Royal Highness himself could do such a thing without inviting chaos, much less the steward of Halmstadt, the royal cousin.¡± He went to the door and put his hand on the handle. ¡°Perhaps I best let you stew in here for a few more days. Give you time to think.¡± ¡°The dragon will be here the day after tomorrow. Perhaps earlier. Time might have gotten away from me in here.¡± Jarl stopped and turned back, his piercing gaze leveled right at Vidar¡¯s eyes. ¡°What sort of grounds do you have for making such a statement?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll just have to trust me.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t trust you.¡± If Vidar told the stiff-backed soldier in front of him the real source for his information, he¡¯d get another laugh out of the man, then a scowl and finally more time in this blasted cell. That was not an option. ¡°Then take your chances,¡± Vidar said, keeping steady eye contact with Jarl. ¡°Suffer another defeat.¡± Their eyes stayed locked for several breaths, and Vidar only looked away and blinked when Jarl gave a short nod. ¡°Very well. But if the dragon stays where it is, I¡¯ll be disappointed in you.¡± Vidar sensed that Jarl¡¯s disappointment would lead to another cell and perhaps even that noose he kept dangling at the forefront of Vidar¡¯s imagination. ¡°I¡¯m right, you¡¯ll see,¡± Vidar said. ¡°So we have an understanding, then? A pardon?¡± ¡°Help Halmstadt slay that dragon and I¡¯m sure the steward will find it in him to pardon the murder¡±¡ªhe emphasized the word¡ª¡°of one of his loyal guardsmen. The rest is between you and the mercy of fallen angels.¡± He turned to walk out of the room. ¡°About that coin?¡± Vidar asked, unable to help himself. Chapter 40
Jarl called for the guards to release Vidar and then left him in the care of that same matronly servant, who brought him deeper into the keep and into a proper bed where a physician treated his many wounds and put a fresh compress on the one on his hand. Interestingly enough, from the smell, Vidar found he used a mixture similar to the veterinarian¡¯s poultice, with herbs, honey, and garlic. After being given some sort of tonic to ward off the fever, Vidar¡¯s constitution improved much. The new clothes helped as well. They brought him something much too fancy at first, but he¡¯d refused those garments and instead received more fitting options, something a well-off merchant might wear with thick gray trousers, an off-white shirt with plenty of pockets, and a warm coat in a light brown that reached halfway to his knees. The best of all was the new pair of black, sturdy boots that the cobbler promised would keep the wet out. Vidar felt like a new man wearing it all, and his swollen face and bandaged hand didn¡¯t deter from his reflection in his room¡¯s mirror. Not at all. With his time spent in that cell, it was late afternoon. If Lytir was right, and Vidar hoped the vagrant was, the dragon would once again appear in the skies above Halmstadt the day after. Very little time remained, and none of that was to be spent resting. A set of guardsmen accompanied him back to where he was captured so Vidar could retrieve his runes and the dragon spikes. They were explicitly ordered not to allow any detours, but Vidar found they were surprisingly cheap to bribe and they happily waited outside the inn when Vidar explained he needed to go in to retrieve a few things from his room. Erik and Sven were apparently out, but a surprise guest waited for him by the table opposite Siv. ¡°Alvarn?¡± ¡°Where¡¯ve you been, Vidar? What are you wearing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a long story, but the guards caught me.¡± Alvarn¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°The guild threatened to bar me just for associating with you. What did you do?¡± Vidar turned to Siv, who looked like she was sleeping, as he dug around for algiz runes, finding none. ¡°I¡¯ll explain everything when there¡¯s time. What happened to her?¡± ¡°She was on the verge of collapse when I got here, because you didn¡¯t prepare her properly when teaching her how to rejuvenate.¡± Vidar hurried over to her, but Alvarn held up a hand. ¡°She¡¯s fine, just sleeping, but it¡¯s a good thing I got here when I did, or she might¡¯ve really overdone it.¡± ¡°Why are you here?¡± Vidar asked, testing the runes arrayed around Siv to pick out the ones she¡¯d rejuvenated. ¡°Guild guards were waiting for me outside my room, so I thought it best not to go back there for the time being. At least until I find out why they¡¯re there.¡± Alvarn placed the key to the underground on the table. ¡°Also, I came to return this.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Vidar said. ¡°Did you?¡± ¡°Make a copy? I did.¡± ¡°What about the cleaning station?¡± Despite obviously being frustrated with Vidar¡¯s hurry and lack of responses, Alvarn grinned. ¡°I repaired it, Vidar, I really did!¡± Vidar raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°The part of the wall where water streamed through was almost fully blocked. A few bursts with a¡±¡ªhe lowered his voice to a whisper¡ª¡°stakra rune¡±¡ªhis voice rose again¡ª¡°cleared it right up and everything functioned just as it should after!¡± Siv woke. She grunted and looked around with tired confusion in her eyes until she saw Vidar¡¯s new clothes. A sleepy smile spread across her face and she gave him an appreciative nod. ¡°Well done with the runes, Siv, but you have to be careful not to overextend yourself,¡± Vidar said. ¡°I already told you.¡± Alvarn scoffed but didn¡¯t comment further. Erik and Sven entered the room then. With everyone inside, the space felt cramped. ¡°Why is there a guard outside?¡± Erik asked. Vidar began waving the question away, but then stopped and turned, his brow furrowing. ¡°One?¡± ¡°One,¡± Sven confirmed, dumping a bunch of table legs and other pieces of debris in a corner before brushing off his ragged coat. Vidar felt faint. There it was. The reason the guards were so easily bribed. Thieves¡¯ guild. ¡°We have to leave. Now!¡± Vidar shouted, shoving runes into his pockets. ¡°They¡¯re coming!¡± ¡°Who?¡± Erik asked, running to the door to put his ear against it, trying to listen. ¡°The thieves¡¯ guild is after Siv as a way to get to Ida. Torbjorn said as much when he tried to torture me. That¡¯s why I look like this,¡± Vidar said, then tilted his head. ¡°Well, one of the reasons.¡± ¡°I am not following any of this,¡± Alvarn said, standing up but seemingly unsure of what to do. Vidar glanced up at his friend. ¡°Sorry for dragging you into this, Alvarn, but we¡¯re probably going to need your help getting out of it. Are you carrying algiz and stakra runes?¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Siv. Algiz runes?¡± Siv¡¯s eyes were wide with fright, but she leaned back and grabbed a small cloth bag under a pile of kenaz runes. ¡°Rejuvenated?¡± She nodded. Vidar handed them out to everyone. ¡°These will protect you. Erik, Sven, you grab pieces of wood over there to use as clubs. I¡¯m going out first.¡± ¡°Where are we going?¡± Alvarn asked. Vidar placed his makeshift kenaz rune on his forehead and readied both stakra and algiz runes for himself. ¡°We¡¯re going to the keep. They¡¯ll just have to house us all.¡± ¡°The keep?¡± Sven asked, pausing in the middle of looking for a club. ¡°Someone is out there,¡± Erik said, his voice a terrified, shouted whisper. ¡°Vidar!¡± Alvarn shouted. Vidar stopped fiddling with his runes and turned to his friend. ¡°What?¡± Alvarn was holding a stakra rune in each hand, ready. ¡°What are you dragging us into? What did you do?¡± ¡°I rescued Siv¡¯s sister from the jail,¡± he said, gesturing to Siv. ¡°In doing so, I messed up. A guard died because of me and the steward and his soldiers know. I¡¯m trading my help in beating the dragon for a pardon. Also, the rune scribes¡¯ guild knows about the stakra rune, I think, and your blasted guild mistress visited me to make a lot of threats. I didn¡¯t fold under her pressure and tried to get a writ to allow us to craft runes and sell them without being involved with the guild. She didn¡¯t like that. That¡¯s probably why the guards were at your door.¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The entire room fell silent. ¡°Any questions?¡± ¡°You killed a man?¡± Sven asked. ¡°I also killed Yallander. The thieves think Ida did that. That¡¯s one of the reasons they¡¯re trying to find her. Can we now please get out of here before we¡¯re swarmed with thieves and killers?¡± Alvarn¡¯s face was hard. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯d fit right in.¡± ¡°Later, Alvarn. Yes?¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Alvarn said, nodding at the door. ¡°You go first. I detest violence, but if we have no other options available to us, so be it.¡± The determination in his friend¡¯s face surprised Vidar, but it was a welcome surprise. Erik and Sven looked on the verge of breaking, and Siv wasn¡¯t much better. Her eyes were full of tears, but he wasn¡¯t sure why. It would have to wait until later. At least she was wearing her coat and holding an algiz rune and a kenaz one ready. ¡°Vidar! It is time to return to the keep!¡± The voice broke through the group¡¯s low chatter. Vidar breathed in deep, then whispered to Alvarn, ¡°Be careful with the stakra runes. Too wide a trigger and they¡¯ll tear a man apart.¡± Alvarn swallowed hard and nodded. ¡°One moment,¡± Vidar called through the door, then he flung it open and triggered the kenaz rune to blast light at everyone outside. Just as he¡¯d feared, the entire hallway was filled with figures obscured by the dim light. Their surprised reaction and subsequent blinding gave Vidar an edge and he did not squander it. He shouldered into the soldier right by the door and made him fall back with a thud, then hurried past and triggered a stakra rune while pointing the symbol at the corridor. Just like he¡¯d hoped, the distance between himself and their opponents meant no one took the full brunt of the thrust. Instead, the roughly hand-sized invisible force barreled down the corridor and threw most of the thieves to the floor with a yelp of surprise and anger. ¡°Hurry!¡± he shouted to the others before setting off at a run. As he ran past the first few men in the way, he triggered another kenaz rune, blinding those few who remained standing. One had the foresight to hold up a hand to shield his eyes, and he grabbed for Vidar¡¯s coat. Before Vidar reacted, Erik swung a table leg like a club into the thief¡¯s head, sending him to the floor. They ran and Vidar made it to the other side, right near the stairs down to the ground floor, when Siv let out a garbled yelp of surprise. Someone had grabbed her. Alvarn grabbed the thief and shook him, but it was Siv who helped herself free by pressing a triggered sowilo rune into the thief¡¯s exposed face. He let go with a cry of pain and the air began smelling faintly of burned meat. The group hurried down the stairs and came face-to-face with the other guard, who was already mid-swing with his sword when Vidar appeared. Against an algiz rune, the weapon did little good. It bounced off with a strange-sounding thud and a blue, translucent shimmer that made the guard drop his weapon and turn for the door. Vidar grabbed the sword and handed it to Sven before triggering another stakra rune to send the guard tumbling into the wall and crashing into a heap on the floor. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here!¡± Vidar shouted, half pushing the others past himself to shepherd them through the door. Steps thundered down the stairs and thieves soon poured out after them, almost catching up by the time Vidar and the others rounded the corner of the house. Focusing on their pursuers, the group almost ran headfirst into another group of thieves. These wore strips of fabric over the lower part of their faces, hiding their identities. Vidar stopped, panting, turning back to see the first group closing in. He looked for another path forward, but the side passages were filled with masked thieves as well. When he peered up, he even saw a few on the rooftops. Many of them wielded bows. Alvarn walked up to Vidar. ¡°What do we do?¡± A single person walked forward from the crew in front of them and removed her mask. Only then did he spot the dark gray patch covering one eye, kept in place with a leather strap. Relief flooded Vidar. ¡°Ida!¡± She made everyone part to let Vidar¡¯s group through, but Siv stopped next to Ida, her fingers flickering as her face went through a wide array of emotions. ¡°Later,¡± Ida said, pushing Siv to Vidar so the masked group could close their ranks and block the pursuers¡¯ path. ¡°You¡¯ve got your guild already?¡± Vidar asked, almost shouting to be heard over the din of voices and the disappointed shouts from the male thieves. Ida didn¡¯t take her eyes off them when she answered Vidar. ¡°The beginnings of one! So far, we haven¡¯t had the chance to do much thieving. Staying alive and practicing has kept us out of harm¡¯s way, but when I heard whispers of thief movements toward this part of town, I couldn¡¯t stand by. I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on Siv, as you can probably understand.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Vidar said, eying the very angry-looking male thieves. ¡°Are you sure you can beat all of them?¡± Several of the masked women and girls laughed or giggled, and Vidar saw quite a few of them raise their bows. ¡°We can take care of ourselves, Vidar. You continue taking care of my sister for me.¡± ¡°I will.¡± And he would, too. ¡°I¡¯ve got a rune that¡¯ll help protect you,¡± Vidar said. ¡°I¡¯m not taking any part in that witchery, dummy. Now go!¡± Alvarn, Erik, and Sven ran, but Siv stood rooted to the ground and didn¡¯t budge, even when Vidar waved for her to follow. The two sisters met eyes then, and Ida gave Siv a warm smile that didn¡¯t reach her one good eye. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with these pests now and you¡¯ll see me again soon enough. Now go, sister!¡± She gestured to Vidar. ¡°This is what you chose!¡± Siv stomped her foot and glared, tears streaming down her face and snot running through her nose. Then she made a short gesture and turned to run. Ida shouted at Siv¡¯s back. ¡°I love you too!¡± Vidar nodded to Ida. Then he was off as well. As he caught up to the group, shouts of pain and alarm rang out from behind as Ida¡¯s small army of women clashed with the thieves¡¯ guild. They didn¡¯t make it far before Alvarn stopped and handed over the few forbidden runes in his possession. ¡°I¡¯m not going with you to the keep.¡± Vidar threw a nervous glance back the way they¡¯d come. No one was following. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a student at the rune scribes¡¯ guild. That¡¯s where I belong until I¡¯ve grown enough to become a full member. Anything else, illegal, dragon related, or otherwise, is not something I am comfortable with.¡± ¡°You might end up in trouble over there no matter what you tell them.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll deal with that if I have to,¡± Alvarn said, putting a large hand on Vidar¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Good luck.¡± Vidar narrowed his eyes, then shouted at Alvarn¡¯s back as he disappeared down the street. ¡°Wait! Are you just scared of the dragon?¡± When no reply came, the rest of the group continued on all the way to the keep. The guards were not happy seeing him return on his own, without his escort, but after a lot of shouting and quite a few threats, they finally relented and showed Vidar back to his room. He, along with Siv, Erik, and Sven, all looked on in wonder at the lavishly decorated hallways and chambers. Once they were alone, Vidar immediately set them to work. ¡°Erik, Sven. You go find tools so you can continue making runes. We¡¯ll be up most of the night crafting.¡± Vidar peeked out from the doors and waved for a servant half running the other way, carrying a pitcher of wine. The servant, a young woman, looked like she was considering ignoring him and continuing on her way, but finally relented. ¡°What?¡± she asked, both expression and tone sullen. Jarl appeared in the corridor then, walking fast enough his aides had to run to keep up. Vidar waved the girl off. ¡°You can go.¡± She threw a glance Jarl¡¯s way, blushed, then scurried away with the wine. ¡°Why am I hearing about a melee in Andersburg? Before the guardsmen made their way over there and broke it up, twelve people were dead! Why were my soldiers counted among those?¡± ¡°You know why,¡± Vidar said. ¡°You should take more care in who you take into your ranks.¡± ¡°Thieves,¡± Jarl spat. Vidar withdrew one of the dragon spikes. ¡°Where can I find someone to make an arrow out of this for the ballistae?¡± ¡°Is that bone?¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°Bone is very brittle, Vidar.¡± Vidar shook his head. ¡°Not this bone. You¡¯ll see.¡± Jarl grabbed the spike and then reached back with it to one of his aides. ¡°Take this to Hermel and have him fulfill this young man¡¯s request.¡± ¡°An arrow, sir?¡± The aide, a woman about his mother¡¯s age with dark brown hair and fair skin, raised an eyebrow at the precious spike. ¡°Are you certain?¡± ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Jarl said, waving her away, much like Vidar had done with the serving girl. ¡°We¡¯ll be crafting runes for most of the night. Do you keep materials for such work in the keep?¡± ¡°Why are there more of you now?¡± ¡°They are my companions. We were attacked by the thieves. I need them for my part in tomorrow¡¯s attack, and they need to be safe.¡± Jarl looked at him for a good long while, then apparently saw something in Vidar¡¯s expression. ¡°Very well, but would it not make more sense to work with rune scribes? The guild has their issues, I know all about that, but they are professionals.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t need them.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want them learning of the new rune, is what I¡¯m hearing.¡± ¡°They¡¯re bastards,¡± Vidar said. ¡°You¡¯ll be glad to hear I want nothing to do with them either, so you¡¯re in luck. I won¡¯t force you, but many lives depend on you keeping your word the next time we are attacked, be it tomorrow or at a later date.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my part. Just prepare the arrow. One more thing. I¡¯ll need as many rejuvenated heat runes as you are able to gather.¡± ¡°What for?¡± Vidar looked up at the tall soldier. ¡°Just trust me.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t trust you, Vidar. I thought I made that very clear. But you will have the requested runes. Just make sure my men and my equipment both are well protected.¡± A heavy commitment, but Vidar was ready for it. ¡°You have my word.¡±