The Girl from the Rune Yard

by Eric Guindon

  “Good.”

  Then the voice instructed Kyria to etch the design she was seeing directly onto the plate before her. It had to be laid down exactly, with only millimetres of tolerance for deviation. As she got more of the design completed, Kyria slowed down, worried that she might make a mistake and have to start over. With careful attention to detail, she finally managed to finish the design to the rune-mind’s satisfaction.

  “See? We’ll make a rune-smith out of you yet,” it declared. Tired, Kyria had no rejoinder. “You’re almost done with this piece Kyria; the rest will be much, much easier.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, unsure how things were likely to become easier, but willing to trust the voice.

  The next thing Kyria had to do was to use a device, which she re-named the Metallizer, to fill the etching with metal.

  “The plate itself is made of an aluminium alloy. It contains no iron or nickel or any other magnetic element. This makes it a perfect substrate, or under-layer. The runes are made of metals, often rare ones, alloyed with small quantities of a magnetic metal to make them conductive to vital energies.

  “You see: the substrate has to be non-conductive to vitality, but the runes themselves must be conductive. For non-metallic runes, you would use cloth made of vegetable fibres or wood as the substrate, and blood — most commonly — for the runes.”

  “Is that why our linen suits worked? They were non-conductive to vitality?” Kyria wanted to make sure she understood.

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “So, water is conductive to vitality,” she declared, knowing this from personal experience, or rather, personal catastrophe.

  “Correct again.”

  “What’s the deal with blood then? It activates runes on its own,” Kyria pointed out.

  “That’s because blood does not only conduct vitality, it contains it as well.”

  Kyria had seen the effects of this herself. Blood was dangerous in the Rune Yard. She nodded and turned her attention to the task at hand.

  Using the Metallizer, following the voice’s instructions, the girl filled the etched out sections of the aluminium plate with different metals.

  “It would be too complicated to explain to you why we’re using each of these metals,” the voice said. “It’s a matter of efficiency mostly. Any magnetic metal would do the job. It just wouldn’t do it as well as the correct alloy.”

  When she was done, having made a minimum of mistakes — which were easily cleaned up — Kyria could not help but ask:

  “How? How did the people of the Golden Age come up with this stuff?” It all seemed so complicated; she was boggled that anyone could have ever discovered all this by accident.

  “It started with blood on rocks and wood in primitive times, or so the majority believed,” the voice explained. “Some ancient drew with blood on a piece of wood and something happened. From there it was all incremental advancements and refinements over dozens of centuries. Eventually, this lead to the modern age, with rune-smiths standing on the shoulders of all who had come before, formalizing the knowledge into concrete and documented runes.”

  “But, it’s so complicated!” Kyria objected.

  “Complicated is just the result of many small, simple increments, Kyria.”

  “I guess. Like writing, in a way,” she conceded.

  “Remember, many of the additional complications allow for greater efficiency, but are not, at base, needed. The magic works so long as the correct forms are drawn in a vitality conductive medium on a non-conductive surface.”

  Kyria, in the end, had to accept this; the evidence was everywhere before her eyes. The weapon she carried, the voice she spoke to, these were all the products of rune-magic.

  “Is this ready, then?” She asked, holding up the aluminium plate, careful not to touch the runes.

  “It is. Are you?”

  “What do you mean?” Kyria replied.

  “Once you touch that attunement plate, the connection between us will be fully realized. It can be . . . somewhat overwhelming.”

  “What will it be like?”

  “You will be able to read my mind as easily as I read yours. Our connection will work over vast distances, we will be able to share each other’s senses and project information directly to each other.”

  “It sounds pretty invasive,” she remarked.

  “In a way, it is. It also means always having a friend with you. Don’t worry, I will teach you how to block me out when you feel the need for privacy.”

  “Is that what we are, voice? Friends? I don’t even know your name,” the girl pointed out.

  “I would be a friend to you, if you will let me,” the voice said after a pause. “My name is Haylem.”

  “You’ve offered to help me without asking anything in return, Haylem. You’ve already been a good friend to me. I think it’s me who’s been a bad friend. If you’ll have me, I’ll definitely have you.”

  “You were in need, I helped you. It seems the most natural thing in the world to me,” Haylem said.

  “I think not everyone would feel that way, Haylem,” the girl said. She held up the plate again. “Do you want this?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Haylem answered.

  Kyria braced herself and touched the runes with her bare hand.

  Thoughts flooded into Kyria’s mind, thoughts so strange and alien, they made no sense to her. She lost herself in the flow of concepts filling her, all of them just passing through, none remaining for more than a micro-second. She tried to open her eyes, to get a bearing on where she was, on what was happening, but she had too many of them; she had hundreds!

  She heard a girl screaming somewhere nearby and knew it must be her own voice she was hearing, through Haylem’s ears. She needed to find where she ended and the rune-mind began so that she could get back to herself. She thought she might be able to deal with all this if only she had a solid base to reach out from; experiencing the rune-mind all at once as she was doing now was not feasible for a human mind.

  It took Kyria a moment to realize that the solution she had just come up with was actually Haylem’s suggestion. The two of them were so blended together that she could not tell her own thoughts apart from those of the rune-mind.

  Following another suggestion she decided must have come from Haylem, Kyria opened all her eyes, even though there were too many to make sense out of all she could see. Then, one by one, she shut each eye that was not looking at the room with the workbench. It took some time, but eventually, she was left with two eyes: her own human eyes. From this reference point she found her hands and then the rest of herself. Finally, Haylem’s presence in her head advised her to put up a mental wall between herself and all that wasn’t her, and then to put a door in that wall and a window in the door, through which she could look into the next mental room without going into it. Finally, it suggested she add a sort of slot through the door where things could be exchanged from one mind to the other.

  She did as the rune-mind advised, picturing what she wanted, making a mental construct that made living with a second mind just a hair’s breath away bearable. It worked. She found herself back to just being her and, at last, Kyria stopped herself from screaming.

  The girl took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

  I’m sorry that was so intense, Kyria. I could not give appropriate warning. Experience is the only way to get used to the connection. If I may say so, you did remarkably well. It was Haylem’s voice, placing thoughts directly in her mind. She felt this should be strange, but it wasn’t. It was like the rune-mind was a parent hugging her and whispering in her ear. She had never been so close to another being before and it felt . . . good. That surprised her.

  Unfortunately, this intimacy made her think of how close she had been with her father — now gone forever. It made her weep again for what she’d lost. She was surprised to feel, coming through the small slot in the door in her mind, the sorrow Haylem shared for her loss. She was comforted by the rune
-mind’s companionship and, for a time, she shared mental pictures of her father, mother, and the workers. Directly, without words, she showed Haylem the best times she’d had with each person who had died at the hands of the bandits. For some of the workers there was not as much, but for Noram, she had almost as many memories to share as she had with her father. Then she thought of her mother and what was likely being done to her by the bandits who had taken her.

  “Your mother is not gone, not yet,” Haylem told Kyria aloud.

  She nodded and stood up, wiping her tears. “I’m ready to go on, I think.”

  “No. First you should rest. You forget that I can tell exactly how tired you are, Kyria. You’ll need to be at your best if our preparations are to be fruitful.”

  Reluctantly, Kyria agreed to be shown to a place where she could lie down to rest. The room was a small cell, austere and without anything in it to give away the identity of its previous occupant, so many centuries ago. The blankets were of fibres unfamiliar to Kyria, a name for them came to her mind through the connection with Haylem, but she forgot it as soon as she heard it. What mattered was that the blankets were warm, soft, and welcoming. She snuggled in and tried to clear her head of all that had happened in the past few days. This proved to be like trying not to think of a horse. The moment you decide to not think of a horse, you’re actively doing that very thing.

  Haylem helped her.

  Listen only to me, precious Kyria, and I will talk you to serene sleep, the rune-mind whispered quietly. Let me tell you a story from the Golden Age, a story to warm your heart and show you that there is still good in the world.

  This is the story of a man, Kyria, an old man who had lived his years out in a way many of the time would consider to be wasted. He had lacked ambitious plans and had never been a learned man, preferring instead to spend his time with people, helping them. Those who knew him well considered him a valued friend, a trusted confidant. But many of his contemporaries judged his life as empty. He had no great successes to his name and no great secrets of the universe he had discovered. All he had done was to live a quiet life, raise a family and retire just as quietly to a life of helping those less fortunate than he was.

  He eventually moved into a home where the old were placed when they could no longer care for themselves; not because he himself was in such a state, but because he wanted to be there for his contemporaries and to be of use to them. There he cared for people who had spent their whole lives looking down on him. He did not hold this against them; he understood that everyone needed to find their own path: they had theirs and he had his. He only wished they had understood that simple truth themselves.

  Finally, when his own time came, the old man found himself ready to let go at last. He had lived a long life, one that he was proud of. His spouse had long since passed on and he had outlived all his children. Even his grand-children were grand-parents by this time. In fact, it was one of those many great-great-grand-children who came to visit him on the day the doctors were certain would be his last. The visit in itself was not unusual, his family had always valued the old man, but the reason for it was. The girl, one of his favourites of that generation, was working for the central government by that time. He had never completely understood what her work entailed, but it had always sounded very important. She came and held his hand that day and said that she had a favour to ask him. Despite this being the old man’s last day of life, he was more than willing to help if there was something he could do for the girl.

  “If you agree to help me, you will continue to live and to help others, possibly forever, Papi,” she told him. “But you have to agree. I would not force this upon you. In my work, we’ve created a stable rune-mind structure, but it isn’t a person. It lacks . . . something. Something we cannot simply make up. You’re the kindest, best person I have ever known. If you will let us, we will transfer that part which is you into the rune-mind. It would become your brain, and its appendages, your body.”

  The old man had a hard time understanding this talk of rune-minds. He’d never been much for the rune stuff. He thought he grasped what she was asking though.

  “I don’t need to live more, darling. Maybe you could do this for someone important,” he said. “Preserve someone worthwhile, you know?”

  The girl laughed and he so liked her laugh that he laughed along with her. “You don’t see it, but you are the most worthwhile person to preserve, Papi. You live for others and that’s a beautiful thing, something we need this rune-mind to also believe in. You’re perfect for this. The fact that you think someone else should be given what is being offered to you right now is proving it even more, Papi.”

  “Will I be helping people?” he asked.

  “Yes. And it will be very important. We’re working on the biggest problem there has ever been Papi. We could use your help.”

  The man agreed, even though he still thought it would be better to preserve some great rune-smith.

  Later that day, with fancy runic equipment, the old man was transferred into the rune-mind, leaving behind the empty husk that had been his human body. Gone were the limitations of his failing biological self; he was reborn.

  I’m grateful I’ve been preserved this way, and grateful to be able to continue helping, even now, so many centuries later, Kyria.

  Sleep well, my darling. Sleep well. I’ll keep watch over you.

  Kyria, who had only been awake for part of the story, still knew it all the next morning, with only a thought.

  She did not believe in any sort of supreme power, like some of the masses did in the world at large. Still, she thanked whatever intelligence might lurk behind the scenes of the universe for the wisdom that led some ancient rune-smith to choose her great-great-grand-father to be this rune-mind’s persona.

  Chapter Seven:

  Prove Yourself Worthy of It

  When she woke up the next morning, the first thing Kyria was conscious of was hunger. The next was Haylem. Unobtrusive, he was present and concerned for her.

  “I’m all right, Haylem, I can eat later,” she said, though she had no real idea where she would find food.

  “There’s no need,” Haylem said. “There is food right here you can eat.”

  “What?! What sort of food stays edible for centuries on end? I’d rather eat a rock, thanks.” Through their bond, Kyria sensed amusement from the rune-mind. He — for she now saw the rune-mind as masculine — sent her sensory impressions of savoury smells, of potatoes on the boil, of meat and onions cooking in a frying pan.

  “Unfair,” she declared. “So, there really is food in this place?”

  “Yes, Kyria. With the right rune construct, you can preserve organic materials. The people who used to work here in the Golden Age called them ration packs and disliked them. I suspect you will not be as dismissive.”

  “Right now I’d probably eat a rock and like it,” Kyria admitted.

  “Thankfully, there is no need for you to eat any rocks.”

  Haylem outlined how to find the mess hall, where the ration packs were stored.

  “How does it work?” Kyria asked. “I mean, how does rune magic protect the food if no one is activating the runes?”

  “Ah, a good point. So far you’ve only seen immediate runes at work, but runes can also be provided with vitality to store and use as needed over long periods of time. In effect, you replace the activation rune-set you’ve seen so far, with a vitality storage and dispensing rune-set.”

  “Oh. So the vitality was put into those ration packs centuries ago? And it still lasts today?”

  “The preservation runes are highly efficient, Kyria. They use very little power to keep the food fresh.”

  Kyria walked in silence for a moment and then smiled to herself. “That’s how you’re possible isn’t it? You run off of stored vitality, right?”

  ‘That’s exactly right.” Through the bond between them, Kyria felt Haylem was impressed with her. She smiled even more broadly and took her dedu
ctions further.

  “You must be very efficient and have a lot of vitality stored up to have lasted this long,” she posited.

  “Yes. Almost a fifth of the millions upon millions of runes that constitute what I am are energy storage runes,” Haylem explained. “I have been very careful to power myself down for centuries at a time, but even in that low-energy posture, I have used up most of my reserves. When you semi-bonded with me years ago, I woke up to full power so that I could use all my faculties to try to speak with you.”

  “I could give you vitality, I guess. I wouldn’t want you to run out and, um, die? That would be terrible.” Warmth from Haylem flowed through their bond.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, dearest Kyria, but your entire vitality would not keep me running at full power for more than a few days. But do not cry for me yet. I have years of power left still. Even if I should run out, I will not die, I will simply be unconscious.”

  “But that would be like death, right? You’d be able to come back from it if the vitality is given back to you, but still,” Kyria felt uncomfortable even considering the eventual death of her new friend.

  “Don’t worry, Kyria. We will first save your mother, then worry about other concerns.” The girl could sense through the bond that Haylem had specifically blocked her from reading any more about these other concerns he alluded to. She worried there might be something the rune-mind was hiding from her and, although she was certain he was hiding it for her own good, it still worried her.

  “Your mother first,” Haylem repeated, evidently sensing her probing and anxiety. Kyria agreed.

  By this time, she had reached the mess hall, finding a large room filled with tables and chairs, a place where hundreds could gather and eat. Across it, in a large cupboard, there were boxes upon boxes, all made of some stiff fibrous plant material. These were all emblazoned with faintly glowing runes.

  “What are you in the mood for?” Haylem asked.

  “I don’t know,” the girl responded. “What did they eat a thousand years ago?”