The Girl from the Rune Yard

by Eric Guindon

  She woke, confused, hours later when the service bell rang.

  It was early morning, she judged.

  A client at the gate, she realized as the bell rang once more. Approaching from the south, the prospective client could not have seen the site of the battle, could have no idea...

  The girl stumbled out of the house through the side door, the one used for business. The clients consisted of three workers leading a hauling cart and the team of oxen to pull it. One of them swore when he saw Kyria emerge. Another made a sign meant to ward off evil.

  “You idiots, it’s just a girl,” the last of them laughed.

  “Look at her eyes,” the one who had made the sign pointed, still fearful.

  Kyria realized they were talking about her.

  “We’re closed.” she croaked; her throat felt like it was filled with sand.

  At the sound of her voice, the most superstitious of the three men took a step back. But the man who had spoken first was not afraid.

  “Listen, girl. We’ve come a long way. I won’t simply turn back on your say so. Where’s Frawn?”

  “If you want the metal, take it yourselves; we’re all dead here,” she told the man as she pulled the lever to start the gate mechanism.

  When it was fully open, Kyria walked through the gate and into the Yard, as the three men watched.

  They did not follow her.

  She did not see them again.

  “I’m back,” Kyria said out loud when she returned to where she last spoke to the voice.

  “Can you hear me?” She heard it ask.

  “Yes.”

  “You are not calm, or well, I see,” the voice sounded hesitant.

  “You said this is a weapon,” Kyria held up the cylinder she had arrived at the battle too late to use. “I want more. You’re a rune-mind, right? Help me! Help me find my mother! Help me kill those bastards! Help me!” she demanded of the air, shaking the rod. Tears had come again and ran freely down her face.

  There was no response from the air. The voice did not come again for long minutes.

  It’s gone? It won’t help me?

  Kyria fell to her knees.

  “Help me,” she whimpered, begging.

  “I will help you,” the voice said at last, barely audible.

  Kyria sighed with relief.

  “I will need you to enter the complex below,” the voice told Kyria.

  “Are there more runic weapons and armour down there?” she asked.

  “No,” it said, its tone flat.

  “You said you’d help me!” Kyria objected.

  “And I will. What you will find down here is much more useful than simple weapons or armour. I will help you make your own runic constructs.”

  Don’t fear it, Kyria told herself. You made up your mind to do this at all costs. Use the runic magic, and the consequences be damned! This thing can have my soul if it will give me the power I need!

  “Kyria. We are bonded, if poorly. I can hear your thoughts. Understand that there is nothing evil or cursed about rune-magic. I am not some demon swindling you out of your soul,” the voice said with infinite patience.

  “You’d say the same thing if you were a demon out for my soul,” Kyria pointed out. “But it doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Just tell me how I’m supposed to get down where you are.”

  The voice was silent for a minute. Kyria waited it out.

  “The weapon you retrieved earlier should serve for this purpose. It will be quite draining on you, so please make every shot count. I need you to destroy the material that is over the entrance into the complex,” the voice eventually said.

  Kyria nodded and grabbed hold of the cylinder so that its business end was pointing at the pile of mixed metal where the passageway from her dreams had once been.

  “Aim more to the left,” the voice directed. Kyria shifted her aim. When the voice was satisfied with her weapon’s bearing, Kyria made sure the runes on the rotating part were aligned and then pressed down on the piece of metal the voice had called the firing stud.

  Depressed, the stud completed the activating rune. It glowed and, one by one, all the other runes on the cylinder lit up until the ones on the very tip became incandescent. Kyria felt the weapon draw vitality from her, as the voice had warned it would. She panted and sweat appeared on her brow as the weapon fired. A ball of shifting energy, the result of the incandescence she had seen for a fraction of a second at the end of the cylinder, shot from the rod, moving faster than Kyria could track, until it hit the pile of scrap. The instant it touched the metal, the ball of energy seemed to unwind before Kyria’s eyes, expanding and blossoming. Then, an eye blink later, the energy, the metal, everything, was gone. The girl felt like she’d run a kilometre.

  “This thing.” She hefted the cylinder. “It really takes it out of you.”

  “Yes. It does,” the voice agreed. “But you have to admire the result. Still, it was never designed as an antipersonnel weapon; it was meant for use against vehicles and shielded targets.”

  “Like the armoured chariots of the Time Before?” Kyria asked, a light back in her eyes that had been absent since the massacre the day before.

  “That might be what your stories called them, yes.”

  Stories, right. Forget the stupid stories, Kyria chastised herself and the light went away again.

  The voice was silent.

  “Well. The stories aren’t true, are they? You said so yourself,” she challenged the voice.

  There was a moment of hesitation before the voice spoke again.

  “Some of the stories are more accurate than others. Some are outright lies. But that does not reduce their value as stories. I am amazed how much knowledge of what you call the Time Before was preserved by those tales.”

  “What do you call the Time Before, then?” the girl asked.

  “When it was the time I lived in, we called it the modern age. Now, I would call it the Golden Age.”

  “And what would you call this age?” Kyria asked.

  “The Dark Age,” the voice answered.

  This gave Kyria pause.

  Is that really how the rune-mind sees us? Are we so lost?

  She shook herself out of such thoughts and asked where she should shoot next.

  Each of the blasts cleared enormous amounts of the metal, seemingly vapourizing it. It took only four of these before Kyria could see the hatch.

  “The last blast damaged it,” she told the voice.

  “It is no matter, so long as you’re able to get in.”

  “Is it safe?” she asked, then immediately scolded herself a fool.

  You’re all in, girl. Stop hesitating at every turn. This is how you’ll get the power you need.

  Kyria approached the metal hatch. It was covered with runes, but half of it was missing altogether now.

  “Try to shift it,” the voice counselled. “If you can’t, you could blast it with the weapon.”

  The girl grasped the broken edge of the hatch cover and pulled. She was tired and weak from using the runic weapon, but the hatch moved on its hinges easily.

  She sighed, relieved not to have to fire the cylinder another time.

  The opening revealed a vertical shaft leading down into darkness. Kyria could hear her own breathing echoing down and away.

  “Down there?” She asked.

  “There is a ladder,” the voice pointed out.

  All in, Kyria told herself and started climbing down.

  Chapter Six:

  It Means Always Having a Friend

  When Kyria arrived at the bottom of the shaft, her feet once more on solid ground, she found herself in complete darkness except for a tiny dot of light visible far above.

  “Are you ready?” Asked the voice. To Kyria’s ears, it sounded excited.

  “Um, yes?”

  One by one, the globes of light hanging from the ceiling lit the room Kyria stood in. There were so many of these, and they were needed: the room
she found herself in was immense, with every inch of the walls covered in hexagons containing runes. It was an impressive sight, going on as far as Kyria’s eyes could see.

  “What is this?” She asked. “Where are you?”

  “I’m all around you, Kyria.” The voice said. “Those runes are a part of me. Inactive at the moment, but still a part of me.”

  Kyria found her mouth agape and closed it. “All of this?”

  “All of this and much, much more. This is only a small part used for artistic and abstract thought.” As the voice spoke, some of the runes flashed on and off, patches of them staying on for longer than others, then going off again. “This is my brain.”

  “Isn’t it creepy to have someone walking around in your brain?” The girl found herself staying away from the walls, afraid to touch the runes there for fear of causing harm to the rune-mind.

  “No. Not at all. In the Golden Age, there would always be staff in this facility. This is not just my brain, Kyria. That’s why I’ve brought you here.”

  “I never pictured the rune-minds like this,” Kyria said. “The stories . . .” She started, then caught herself. Stop with the stories! “What was it you wanted to show me down here?”

  “A few things,” the voice said after a moment. “Allow me to guide you.”

  Most of the lights winked off, leaving only a clear path for Kyria to follow. This partial lighting served to make the already vast underground chamber seem endless.

  Kyria followed the lights to a stairwell and down several levels. She marvelled that this space had been beneath the Rune Yard through the generations that her family had worked it and none of her ancestors had known of it.

  Even the walls of the stairwell had runes on them. She saw some of them light up, flashing on and off so fast that it might have just been her imagination.

  “What happens if I touch the walls? I wouldn’t want to mess up your, um, brain.”

  “No need to worry. There is a layer of diamond between you and the runes, Kyria. You cannot actually touch them.”

  “D-d-diamond?” The girl stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Yes. Transmuted from glass. It’s harder and clearer, you see.” When the girl did not respond, the voice continued. “Ah yes, I understand diamond is quite valuable in this age.”

  “So much money, right under our feet,” Kyria wanted to cry all over again.

  “Your family could never have harvested it, not without harming me, Kyria. Believe me, though: if wealth is your desire, rune-magic can provide that just as easily as vengeance.”

  Kyria shook her head. “No. I have to save my mother. Can we hurry up?” The girl walked with an increasing determination in her step.

  “I can, but you have to realize, making rune-weapons and armour is no trivial matter. It will take time.”

  “I know. I just mean . . . let’s get on with it, okay?”

  The lights eventually led Kyria out of the stairwell and onto a floor that was fully illuminated. This floor was different from the last; it was divided by interior half-walls to create rooms.

  Kyria saw what she was sure must be signs interspersed on the walls and inner doors, but she could not read the language they were written in. It was strange, the letter-shapes were ones she was familiar with, but the words were unknown to her.

  “It has been long enough since the Golden Age that you have evolved new dialects of the tongue spoken at that time,” the voice answered her unasked question. “This was a work area for rune-smiths, Kyria. The signs simply give the workers directions as to what each room contains and where each section can be found.”

  “Why isn’t there any dust?” Kyria asked as she walked around the pristinely clean environment.

  “I have a few remotes,” the voice told her. “I use them to clean, among other things.”

  “Remotes?” she asked.

  Something clicked in the distance, growing louder as it neared. A strange crab-like metal construct skittered into view.

  Kyria screamed and raised the cylinder to point at it, her eyes wide.

  “No!” Yelled the voice. “DO NOT fire that weapon in here!”

  “What is it!?” Kyria’s voice was high with panic.

  “That’s one of my remotes, Kyria. Please. Nothing will hurt you while you are here. Lower the weapon.” The girl obeyed with reluctance. Moving slowly, the metal crab came closer and subjected itself to Kyria’s inspection. The thing was a little over thirty centimetres across and made entirely of rune-covered metal. It had four legs and four arms, the latter ending in pincer-like tools. She thought the creature was adorable after a fashion. The old her, she knew, would have loved the remote.

  I would have loved all of this, she thought. Now, I just want to get what I need from here so I can save Mother.

  “Follow the remote, Kyria and I promise we will work toward that goal as quickly as we can.”

  The metal crab skittered down the corridor, leading her to a door. When she opened it, she found a room with a workbench.

  The remote climbed a shelf and retrieved a flat hexagonal metal plate from a box filled with them. It brought its prize to Kyria, who took it gingerly.

  “Thank you,” Kyria said to the crab.

  “You’re welcome,” the voice responded. Kyria startled. She had a hard time thinking of the crab as just an extension of the rune-mind. It seemed so much like a small independent helper. “What you’re holding is a blank, Kyria. You will inscribe runes upon it.”

  “What? I will?” The girl almost dropped the plate.

  “Yes. The remotes are too inexact for such work.”

  “But. But, I don’t know anything about rune-smithing! You said you could help!” Kyria found she was screaming, tears welling in her eyes.

  “And I will help you, Kyria. Please. Calm down. This will not be as hard as you think.”

  It’s right. I have to focus. Why did I ever think this would be easy?

  “All right. I’m sorry. What am I supposed to do?” Kyria took hold of her emotions.

  “Sit at the workbench and we shall begin.”

  The workbench was a complicated rune construct itself as far as Kyria could tell. She carefully sat down in the seat and tried not to touch anything.

  “Move the magnifying glass out of the way first,” the voice directed. The work area had a variety of mechanical metal arms terminating in tools and devices. One of those turned out to be a magnifying glass. She took a brief look through the lens. “Oh!” Kyria was surprised by how powerfully it magnified her sight. She moved it aside as she was told. The voice had her do the same to all the mechanical arms, naming each one for her. She tried to retain all the names, but they were too foreign and strange.

  “Now lie the hex plate down, so that the dull side is facing up,” it told her. Once she had accomplished this, the voice had her secure the plate with clamps built into the table. “Now comes the fun part,” it said. “I’m going to try to show you a very precise image, Kyria. I’m not sure this will work as our bond is tenuous at best, and we’re not properly attuned. If this does not work, it will be harder to do what must be done.”

  Kyria tried to clear her mind, to be receptive to the image the voice was sending. She even closed her eyes.

  She waited.

  And waited.

  “Nothing?” The voice queried.

  “Nothing. Sorry,” she said. She opened her eyes and thought she saw an image flash. “Wait!” She exclaimed. “I saw something for an instant there, when I opened my eyes.”

  “Strange. Keep your eyes open, Kyria. I’m going to try sending the image to you again.” This time, she saw the image. It appeared as an eerie, glowing design, floating in her vision, superimposed over everything. When she closed her eyes, it went away. The image even looked familiar, but she could not place it.

  “It is a design very much like the one you found when you were quite young, Kyria.”

  She remembered it then, that hexagon plate she had
found on the ground. It had been covered with runes similar to the ones she saw hovering before her now.

  “That plate was an attunement plate, a means for workers to become connected to me so that we could exchange ideas and thoughts rapidly and conveniently. It was never meant for your use. It is not properly configured for your age or mental profile. The one that you will make now will be specifically tuned to you.”

  “That’s why you’re able to talk to me? Because of that runic hexagon I found when I was little? The dreams? Everything? That’s where it all began?” Kyria was incredulous. Her parents had been certain the plate had done nothing to her at all, but now that she considered it, that was when her dreams about the Yard had begun.

  “Yes. I have been trying to talk to you for years,” the voice confirmed.

  “Were you . . . lonely?” the girl asked.

  “No. Well, yes, but that was not why I was desperate to speak with you.”

  “Desperate? What were you desperate about?” Kyria found herself curious.

  “After, Kyria. We’ll talk of that some other day. Your concerns are more immediate, more desperate, shall we say?”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I really am grateful for your help.”

  The voice was silent for a moment and this time, it was a comfortable silence for Kyria. When it spoke again, they got back to business.

  “Stare down at the plate, Kyria. I will resize the image I am sending you until you tell me to stop, which will be when the image is the same size as the plate.” Soon, the rune was just right and the voice got Kyria to find the Enexer. This was one of the devices on the mechanical arms. She finally managed to find the right one, only to have to ask:

  “What does it do?”

  “It etches the design onto the plate,” the voice answered.

  “Can we call it the Etcher from now on?”

  “I see no reason why we couldn’t,” the voice agreed.