The Lost Runes Saga [Epic Fantasy]

TWENTY

The sun sped across the sky in a hurry. Soon, it was dark. Hoping everything was in place for the lesson, Vidar walked around an old lady, then between two men arguing about something or other. This close to the eastern exit out of Halmstadt, the streets overflowed with people. Erik mentioned refugees fleeing attacks on the villages right beyond the thick walls of the city, but Vidar only imagined a handful of people, not this throng standing in his way. All these hungry, cold outsiders would strain the already limited supply of the city. With the church having closed its doors, the steward of Halmstadt was their only hope.

Large, glassy eyes followed him, and a few cried out for shelter and water. Not food, but water. With the systems below, water had never been in short supply for as long as Vidar remembered, but with the cleaning stations failing, the wells interspersed around the city couldn't keep up with the demand.

Vidar stopped, sighed, and looked around. Nearby, an empty pot rested on its side. People kept a wary eye on him as he kicked snow away from a spot near a building with an abandoned air around it, with glassless windows and a front door hanging off its hinges. He peered inside and saw a whole bunch of people huddling within. There were too many of them, but he didn't know what else to do. A small metal box served as the base, and he triggered a sowilo rune and put it inside before setting the pot on top of it.

"Put snow in here," he told two women who'd approached. "It'll melt so you can drink the water. Only clean snow, mind you."

They glanced around at the mass of people around the three of them, but after a long pause, they nodded. Vidar knew very well that the two of them wouldn't have much to say about who used the little contraption once he was gone, but he couldn't stand around and protect it, either. If he didn't get a move on, none of these people would be around for much longer.

He stood and straightened before pointing a finger at the crowd, putting on a scowl, and doing his best to appear threatening. "I'll be back and make sure you're all sharing. Anyone making trouble will have to answer to me!"

No one laughed or jeered. It was something, at least. As he was about to leave, one of the women, a haggard-looking farmer's wife or the like, grabbed his arm. "Thank you," she mumbled. The ice in the pot was already melting into water.

Vidar left them behind. They were expecting him soon, and thieves did not like to be kept waiting, he'd been told. The instructions were rather vague, but once he found the right street, it didn't take long to find the barn-like structure Fjodor wanted him to use.

First, he passed some girls on the street, peering out of dark alleyways. Slight movements up on the rooftops told of scouts. Girls of varying ages and sizes stood outside the building itself. A good distance away, the thieves' guild waited, with Fjodor at the front. Ida stood with hands on her hips before the men, talking in a low, threatening voice. At least she didn't have her bow out. Irin, her second in command, stood at the ready with her bow a few strides to the side.

"Vidar," Fjodor said.

Vidar gave him a nod, then turned to Ida. "You came."

"I don't like it, but I don't see how we have much choice," she replied, scratching at the outside of her eye patch. "More dragons, huh?"

"Afraid so. Have you talked about the truce already?"

"We have come to an understanding," Fjodor said.

Ida scoffed. "I wouldn't call it that."

Fjodor, his voice sounding like that of a patient father, continued without showing any reaction. "This new threat, as unlikely as it sounds, is not something we can ignore."

He'd changed out of the white apron and now wore many layers of dark clothing that made him difficult to see skulking down a dark street.

"So you postponed the original plan?" Vidar asked.

"Recent developments need to be taken into consideration," Fjodor said.

"That's not much of an answer."

Ida set her jaw and shook her head. "I don't like this, but we can't stop what we've started. The dragons change things, but not everything."

Vidar raised an eyebrow at her. "Well. You all want to learn, and I'm here to teach you. He walked over to the barn and shoved open the door. "Why don't we get started instead?"

The thieves filed in behind him, and he noticed the bearded student from his last group stepping inside onto the hard-packed mud floor. He kept his face down but glanced up at Vidar and gave a nervous smile.

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Vidar answered the smile with one of his own before adding a few kenaz runes to the walls using red paint, making sure he placed each line with care. The place smelled like animals, but none were present. Haphazardly scattered chairs filled the space, most of them facing the northern wall. The thieves had found an old blackboard somewhere, complete with sticks of white chalk. Quite the classroom.

Once the men were all inside, Ida stuck her head in and looked around. Satisfied, she ushered in her contingent of girls. Most of them were in their early to mid-teens, at least. This was a good thing. Vidar did not want to teach something that might kill an unprepared practitioner to a bunch of small children.

Ida herself stepped in last and nodded to Vidar. "I've scouts outside to give a proper shout if the guards show up." She glanced at Fjodor. "Or, you know, other boy thieves."

"This location is unknown to other elements in the thieves' guild," Fjodor added.

Vidar nodded, then turned around to the blackboard, grabbed a piece of white chalk, and drew a few lines before surrounding them in a circle.

"This," he said. "Is kenaz. Light."

One of the male thieves scuttled from chair to chair, handing out pieces of paper and writing implements. He didn't discriminate against the girls and gave them supplies without grumbling.

"Each line must be in the correct position, with the right angle, and of a size with the others. Without the circle around the symbol, you'll be pouring essence into whatever you have painted the lines upon. This is a bad idea."

He looked over the group of perhaps thirty men and twenty girls, seeing a few apprehensive faces. But, he realized, most of the eyes turned his way glittered with excitement. Harald nodded and hung to every word Vidar spoke. Even Fjodor looked thoughtful. Ida monitored her girls and ignored him. She still refused to learn the art.

It took most of the group a few hours to get the lines for the kenaz rune just right. Rather than moving on to teach them about triggering runes, Vidar called an end to the lesson after giving them an assignment to do in their own time. All of them needed to finish at least one hundred copies of the algiz rune by that same time the next day.

Before leaving, Vidar pulled Fjodor and Ida aside.

"I need smiths," he said. "For rune crafting."

"I don't know any smiths," Ida said. "Why smiths?"

Vidar pointed to the blackboard, showing a large algiz rune for the group to copy. "If Halmstadt is going to survive, we're going to need a lot of runes, and we're going to need them soon. The dragons could be here tonight if we're unlucky."

"Do you think they will be?" Fjodor asked, his mask of calm not slipping at all.

Vidar shrugged and scratched at the itching spot on top of his head where an algiz rune was healing. "I don't know."

"How do you know they'll be coming in the first place?" Ida asked.

"I can't share that."

Fjodor threw a sidelong glance at Ida, then spoke in a soft voice so his voice did not carry. "The boy in your workshop, perhaps? The pale one."

"That's just an errand boy," Vidar said.

"If you say so."

"I say so," Vidar said. "Multiple dragons are coming. Trust me."

"How many?" Ida asked.

"I don't know."

Fjodor waved away one of his guild officers, who was approaching. "This line of discussion is getting us nowhere. I choose to trust your word on this, Vidar. Not because I trust you, but because ignoring your warning, and it turns out to be true, would lead to a catastrophe."

"I'm fine with that," Vidar said.

"Fine," Ida grumbled. "I still don't know any smiths."

"But you do?" Vidar asked Fjodor.

"Let's say I do. What use would you have of them?"

"For crafting algiz runes. We'll need two versions."

Vidar explained what he was trying to accomplish with the use of smiths. Their work would be instrumental in reaching any sort of workable layer of protection. Fjodor promised aid and even offered to pay for the smiths' work. Vidar wasn't a fool. He knew the thieves' guild leader would then keep the molds, but as long as they saw their intended use first, Vidar didn't care. He handed over the papers showing his designs for molds before leaving.

Size was a factor as well. With the barrier only reaching as far as the symbol, no metal could reach the sort of area they needed to protect larger buildings or even parts of the city itself. Many algiz runes side by side still left holes where the dragons' flames would take hold.

Having left the thieves to their practice, Vidar stopped a moment to think. Perhaps the assumption about a rune's area of effect was incorrect. Way back when he'd crafted his first rune on that stone wall, the symbol lacked a circle around it. Just like with his explanation to the room full of thieves a moment earlier, the missing component meant Vidar poured essence into the entire wall. Perhaps it hadn't even stopped at the edge of the wall. The rune had no way of knowing where the wall ended and the next began, as far as Vidar knew. It had to stop somewhere, though. Experimentation was necessary to find answers to these questions.

He returned to the workshop. Alvarn had yet to return and Rend slept. It was a fitful sleep and sweat once again ran down his face. At least the food and water left out for him was gone. Rend's leg didn't look worse, but the lack of improvement worried Vidar, who considered adding more dragon's essence to his heartwell. He decided against it. Rend's decision stood until he changed his mind, or he got in such a bad way there was no other choice.

After clearing off the workbench, Vidar strained and lifted a legless table, part of Erik's wooden treasures. It took up most of the space in front of him, even standing on its side, but it provided a large enough surface for experimentation.

Once the painted runic symbol for sowilo decorated the middle of the table's surface, Vidar reached out and touched it. Even without a circle surrounding the symbol, one appeared before his mind's eye. It was hazier, but with enough focus, Vidar held it steady as he allowed a small measure of essence to leave through his hand. The expected tingling sensation followed, then a bit of numbness. For this, he didn't want to use dragon's essence.

The moment he stopped pouring his essence into the symbol, it dissipated, leaving his creation and disappearing into nothingness. Not wanting to have wasted all that essence, Vidar triggered the rune. It didn't explode. A good sign. Warmth wafted off it, as expected. When he placed a hand near the wood of the table, he confirmed that all of it exuded that same warmth. The workbench did as well. Not as much, but noticeable. Interesting. Very interesting.