The Lost Runes Saga [Epic Fantasy]

Book 3: Chapter 8


Sitting down and hovering his feet above a few well-placed sowilo runes returned the feeling in Vidar's toes and readied him for another attempt. This time, he would use his hands to steady himself. With a new plan of attack, he readied himself and triggered the stakra runes on his feet. Keeping the thrust low at first, he then increased it little by little until the thrust lifted him off the ground. At the point where a slight wobble led to crashing during each previous attempt, Vidar triggered the stakra runes in his hands, holding them out and down, elbows locked.

"Dragons make this look easy," he mumbled, focusing for all he was worth.

As if by some miracle, Vidar didn't crash into the mud. A slight miscalculation saw him rotating to the left a little while drifting sideways, but he stayed in the air far longer than before. Soon after, though, he overcompensated and ended up in the mud again, cursing at himself, the world, and everything else he could think of, but it was half-hearted and without true anger. Truth be told, Vidar was pleased with the result. Soaring through the air on the first attempt would be a dream, to be sure, but he was not sleeping. Considering how little time he'd spent on this, the progress he was making was far beyond acceptable. Problem was, he'd never catch up to the others this way.

The latest fumble gave him an idea to try. Something simpler, more direct. While it wasn't as impressive as flight, it would be easier to control, and the speed would far outpace walking or even running if he got it right. To that end, he set off running. Mid-stride, pushing off with his left foot, grimacing at the cold mud, Vidar reached out behind him with his left arm and triggered the stakra rune on the bottom of his right foot. The stride turned into a long lunge, stabilized by a small thrust with his hand. Landing on his right foot, he reached his left foot back and triggered the rune there. The thrust carried him forward and, overcompensating with the hand-rune, Vidar spun and went skidding into the snow.

Rather than mutter another long line of curses, Vidar laughed. It'd worked! Also, doing it this way was far easier than flight, just like he'd anticipated, and it required far less essence. While the dragon's essence regenerated at a much quicker rate than his own normal essence, and he could store a whole lot of it in his heartwell, it wasn't infinite. Getting up, he readied himself for a second attempt.

This time, he managed several strides. Each one carried him forward with leaps and bounds, and each increased Vidar's speed until his eyes teared up from the wind resistance and cold. That did him in, and he crashed again. Algiz broke the fall, and off he went again. Soon, a stream of water appeared, running parallel with the path, and it widened as the forest gave way to an open landscape of fields. In the distance, he saw an erected timber wall. The garrison. Had to be. Around three-fourths of the way there, Jarl, Fredrik, Freja, and the few remaining soldiers walked at what looked like the speed of ants.

Pushing himself, Vidar reached incredible speed, thrusting with one leg at a time and keeping himself steady with the stakra runes in the palms of his hands. It must've looked strange indeed to see him come hurtling along the path far faster than anyone could believe possible. Truth be told, Vidar soon reached a higher speed than he knew what to do with and approached the rest of the party without having time to slow down.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, Vidar forced his hands forward mid-leap. Triggering the thrust runes in the opposite direction just in time before crashing into Fredrik felt, in that split moment, like an excellent way to end this brief journey. The rate of thrust was a problem. Not wanting to come to a sudden and painful end, he held back. Once he triggered the stakra runes, his arms were all out of position, and he screamed all the louder as he spun off the path and onto the field to the left, arms and legs flailing. That stream from before still ran alongside the path, which had now widened to a road. Like the road, the stream was wider and, from the brief glimpse Vidar got as he tumbled toward it, deeper.

In full panic, not wanting to get submerged in ice-cold water, Vidar triggered every rune in his hand. The desperation even made him trigger the logiz rune. Flames lashed out from the palm, and Vidar felt a gentler tug alongside the burst from the stakra rune. While still spinning and crashing, that added boost carried him over the water to land in the field on the other side. Another mouthful of cold mud was at least preferable to being drenched.

"Vidar!" Freja shouted from over at the road.

Jarl echoed her. "Vidar! What are you doing? What was that?"

"You flew!" Freja said, clapping her hands in excitement.

Vidar stood, wiped mud from his face before it dried, shook his head, and shouted back. "That wasn't flying! More like leaping, if anything!"

"You have to teach me!" Freja said, looking at him with an expression of wild exhilaration.

"Perhaps not," Fredrik said, his voice almost drowned out by the running water as Vidar approached it to wash his face. "But perhaps you can describe it so we can get the process down on paper and bring it to the guild."

Vidar submerged his hands in the clear water and gasped at the cold temperature, despite standing in cold mud up to his ankles without wearing shoes. Still, cleaning off his face was worth it at that point. Once he was done, he leaped over the stream without the stakra runes and clambered up the embankment. Coming face to face with the two rune scribes from Stalheim, he straightened. "After what Freja attempted, I'm not much in the mood for sharing information."

Freja pouted. "Don't be like that."

"Knowledge is meant to be shared," Fredrik pointed out.

"That's an interesting viewpoint coming from someone in the rune scribe's guild," Vidar said, seating himself on a log next to the road. Socks and boots had never felt so good before. As he finished up by triggering sowilo runes to warm his feet and hands by, he peered into the distance, past Jarl. "That's the garrison, I take it?"

Jarl walked up to him. "It is.

Vidar stood and sighed. "Then let us get this over with."

As they walked, Jarl slowed to fall in next to Vidar. "I am not one to meddle in the affairs of others, but perhaps you should consider keeping a friendlier tone with Fredrik and Freja. They are the reason you are able to make a new life for yourself in Stalheim, after all."

"You saw what she did."

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"You blame a rune scribe for trying to learn about runes? Specifically, a rune that will be critical, if what you told me about the shadows holds true? And if not, against the monsters that now roam our land in increasing numbers?"

"Well," Vidar conceded. "You make a good point. But what if the rune is used in other ways?"

Jarl looked into the distance, toward the wall, where movement drew the eye to patrolling soldiers. "And in what ways would that be?"

"Warfare. Against our fellow man. A weapon like this is no laughing matter. What if I, by sharing this knowledge, unleash something terrible upon the world?"

"There are many terrible things in this world, and humans will always use them against each other," Jarl said, looking thoughtful. "I have no love lost for the rune scribes, as you might have guessed, but I do know one thing."

"And that is?" Vidar asked.

"Without the runes you found and shared, Halmstadt would not be standing today. Knowledge is neither good nor bad. It simply is. It is up to us to use it with care."

"Freja does not strike me as careful," Vidar scoffed.

"I'm not talking about individuals."

Vidar turned to peer over his shoulder at the two rune scribes from Stalheim, then back to Jarl. "I know, but it is difficult to separate the individual from humanity at large. From what I've seen, there are few who can be trusted."

"Sometimes, showing a man trust makes him want to live up to that ideal."

"You're very philosophical, all of a sudden," Vidar said, giving Jarl a side-eye. "And far more talkative, not to say anything about trusting."

Jarl let out a tired chuckle. "Being thrown away after spending a lifetime in a profession can have that effect on a person, and I'm an old man."

"You're not that old."

"One of the reasons I'm returning to Stalheim is to meet my children's children."

"Huh, guess you are that old."

"Indeed," Jarl said with another little laugh. "And while I won't be around for much longer, I'd like Sveland to keep standing in my absence." He gave Vidar a meaningful look. "My family will still need somewhere to live, after all."

"I take your meaning," Vidar said, peering back over his shoulder again, sighing. "I'll think on it."

Once he was alone again, having fallen behind the column, Vidar, true to his word, considered Jarl's point of view. Looking past what was, admittedly, childish stubbornness, it didn't take long to see the foolishness of keeping this knowledge only to himself. Dragon fire borne from the logiz rune washed the shadow creatures away. It was potent. Deadly, even. The problem was in the lack of control. If and when he shared logiz with the rune scribes' guild was the moment it would be out of his hands. Still, could he afford not to? If only he and Alvarn knew of the rune, that meant the fate of everything rested on their shoulders, and that was a heavy weight indeed. It cut to the very core of him to part with the secrets he'd hoarded, but this time there was too much at stake.

Just as he was about to raise his head from the ground and call out to the rune scribes, voices interrupted him, calling over from above.

"Identify yourselves and state your purpose!"

Blinking, Vidar looked up and saw that they'd approached the garrison without him even noticing. Walking around, absorbed in your own thoughts, was not ideal. He'd need to take more care going forward. Especially now that monsters lurked everywhere.

Jarl shouted back up at the men walking the parapet. After providing information, the heavy wooden gate swung open on well-oiled hinges. As soon as the small group made it through, a few men in soldier garb closed and barred it behind them. Being led through what amounted to a small village's worth of buildings and tents, Vidar couldn't help but notice the haunted eyes on some of the soldiers. These people were afraid.

Nudging Jarl, Vidar spoke in a hushed voice. "Something happened here."

"I see it too," Jarl said, before speaking up louder to reach the two soldiers ushering them toward a large stone building in the middle of the encampment. "Soldiers! Tell me, what news can you bring me from this area of our great kingdom?"

"Great kingdom," the one on the left, a younger lad with light wisps for a blond beard, scoffed. "Great indeed."

"Keep your voice down," his companion said. This one was older, perhaps even Jarl's age. He turned then, his expression grim. "Not much in the way of pleasant business around these parts, I'm afraid, marshal."

"Care to elaborate?" Jarl asked.

Vidar noticed Jarl hadn't corrected the other man's misuse of the title he no longer carried. Not one to miss such details, that oversight must've been purposeful.

"I prefer not to speak of dark things, but since you asked. Some men have gone missing. One was found just last night, naked and pale as the moon itself. The priest spoke words of blessing over his grave this morning, but the lads have been uneasy, and some whisper it's only a matter of time before more are taken by... well, by the beast."

"Pale?" Vidar, taken aback by the revelation, was unable to hold back the question.

The older soldier eyed him, then sighed and went on. "Well, we know not what stole the men away, or if they simply opted to leave and head north or south, away from it all. Some believe there is an abomination crawling around these hills, searching for victims. The men who disappeared were all on patrol when it happened. It happened on separate nights as well, mind you, and so far only one has returned. Like I told you, the returned lad is no longer counted among the living."

"Tell them about the monsters while you're at it, skulking around and hiding in the encampment itself," the younger one said, elbowing his fellow soldier in the side. "And the dragon!"

"I'm sure the landmaester will want to inform you himself," the older soldier said.

"Nonsense," Jarl said, his voice full of feigned cheer. "I'd like to hear your views on these matters."

"So a dragon was sighted here?" Fredrik broke in to ask. "That wasn't just a peasant's fancy?"

"Aye, we spotted one flying by five days ago. Or was it six? No, I'm certain it was five. It didn't attack us, fallen angels be blessed, but you can imagine what seeing it did to us? The priest's sermons are full every day now, all of a sudden. Men are simple creatures, and seeking religion in a time like this makes a sort of sense."

Vidar held back the anger brewing in his chest. "I'd like to see this priest."

"Over there, in the hut with the slanted roof. I'm sure he wouldn't mind the company."

"Everyone stop," Fredrik said, raising his hands as he came to a stop in the middle of the dirt path they'd been walking. "We are talking around each other now. Let's stick to one subject at a time. The dragon, man."

"Yes? A winged lizard-like creature, larger than any house I've ever seen. Like something out of legend. I understand it's difficult to believe, but-"

"Not at all," Fredrik said, interrupting the soldier. "You said it flew over here. Where?"

"Where what?"

Fredrik brought up a hand to massage his left temple, then spoke in a slow, frustrated voice. "From which direction did it come, and to where did it head away from you?"

"Oh," the old soldier said, pondering the question. "From the southwest and headed northeast. Same direction you came from just now."

"Stalheim," Fredrik whispered, closing his eyes.

Freja's eyes widened. "You think?"

"Haven't heard much from them in the last few weeks," the older soldier said.

The younger one barked a bitter laugh. "Not like we oft receive word from the glorious capital, do we?"

"Mind your manners in polite company, lad," the older soldier said, pushing him away. "Go with the patrol heading out instead, you bumpkin!"

The lad's face paled, and he glanced at the forest beyond the wall, visible because they'd been walking up a steep slope, but then he set his jaw and left in a huff.

"Apologies for him," the old soldier said. "He is new to soldiering. Doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut." He gestured toward the building. "Should we continue? I'm sure the landmaester is expecting you."

Fredrik waved him on. "Yes, yes. Lead on. We must be off from this horrid place with all haste."

Vidar stopped for a moment and considered heading over to the priest right away, sure he'd find whoever that man was in the middle of everything that had been going on in the garrison, but thought better of it. His fingers itched to grab hold of a priest to question, but if he headed over there himself and something went awry... No. Too much was at stake here. So, against his own first instinct, he followed the group toward the landmaester's building.

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