Rune Service

by J. B. Garner

  “Yes?”

  “So, did you need me in specific? Or would any old Dwarf do the job?”

  We all want to be wanted. While I knew the answer before he said it, I could still hope that maybe this was really like a fairy tale, where destiny brought the needy to the foot of a hero or maybe a prince to his true love. Not that I had romantic intentions but I would be a liar if I said I didn’t want to feel a little love in my life. I’d settle for being the hero of the piece, though.

  “I am supposed to be honest for this one, correct?” The hesitance surprised me. Maybe there was some empathy underneath both the rich boy and the con man.

  I sighed, hoping that the sound would be hidden under the crunch of loose pebbles or the creak of wooden timbers. “I want honesty but maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you lie to me one last time.”

  “To make the fair Dwarven damsel smile, I will say what needs to be said then.” Again, Aelfie surprised me. I expected a playful, mocking tone. After all, it was obvious we both knew the truth of the matter. There wouldn’t be any harm in making a game of it.

  Instead, his voice was soft and respectful as he said, “How could I not be seeking out anyone other than yourself, Lady Stone? With curls of fire and a beard to match, you have the courage of a lioness and the strength of a dragon. There would be no other Dwarf I would seek out who could better provide me the stalwart aid I need in my dark hours or by whose radiance I would set my course too.”

  Yeah, we do all want to be wanted, even if it’s a lie. I could take a lie, you know, especially when it was a half-one. The fact remained that Aelfie needed someone like me for whatever crazy reason. A half-need was a hell of a lot more than anyone else had given me in a long time.

  I brushed at a half-formed tear as I faked wiping some dust from my cheek. “Well, I can only hope to live up to my fearsome reputation, Prince Aelfson.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder for a moment, a brief and unexpected gesture, but I didn’t flinch away from it or get upset that time. “I could argue that you already have.” There was a creak of leather as he adjusted his jacket. “And please, keep calling me Alfie.”

  Chapter 4

  “NOW THAT WE have established that,” Aelfie said, not losing a step as he switched from lies to the truth, “I suppose the beginning is the best place to start.”

  I carefully sidestepped a pile of moldering blankets. While the tunnels themselves were in amazingly good shape, there was plenty of refuse left behind from previous inhabitants, people and animal alike. “The beginning of your little problem or the beginning of whatever the hell we are?”

  “The second.” He was even more careful as he picked around the debris, though I wasn’t sure if the care was born out of fear for himself or for his white leather boots. “Walk before running, my dear. Ironic, I know, considering we are technically running for our lives.”

  I stifled a chuckle as I led us down a split in the hall.

  He let out a little cough and continued, “We form a considerable but still minority population on Earth, known formally as Mythics, though the common parlance among us is the term ‘Figment’.” He let out a sigh. “It’s certainly less dignified but I suppose it rolls off the tongue a bit easier. Oh, you can also make witty statements, like, ‘I don’t give a Fig’ or what not.

  “To beat out the question on your lips, the term originates from the fact that many elements of human mythology seem to derive from our secretive existence or perhaps it is because much of humanity considers us to be figments of their imagination. Both of those conclusions rest on the idea that we came first, of course.” His jacket creaked as his shadow cast ahead of me shrugged. “Now, I am no scholar of any kind but I dabble deep enough in enough fields to question whether we came first or whether it is humanity that created us, in a manner of speaking.”

  I grunted with a shrug. “Not that I don’t care but less conjecture and more tangible facts might be more important now, all things considered.”

  “We’re safe for now. No need to be so pragmatic every moment.” After I responded to that with dead silence, Aelfie relented. “Very well, I’ll try to focus a bit.

  “There are many kinds of us and many more that are extinct or practically so. Humanity remains master of the world by a combination of fecundity and adaptability and that is simply how things are. While it seems as if we are completely hidden from the world, the truth is that the highest levels of the world’s governments know of our existence and have a myriad of formal treaties and relations with our own governmental bodies.”

  While it made sense that the people in charge of things had to know about all this, what was baffling to me was why they would help cover it up. “Why are all the smoke-and-mirrors then? If the normal folks and the not-so-normal folks – “

  “Figments,” he cut in. “Best to get your mouth used to the terms.”

  “Right, well, if the government and the Figments already work together like that, what would be the harm in going public?”

  Aelfread chuckled merrily. “If you want to put aside the standard argument that individual humans are smart and open-minded while whole populaces are stupid sheep, there remains the critical factor of unbalanced populations. Any one species of Figment is a drop in the bucket compared to the vast human population and we each have our own means of governance. Our own kingdoms and tribes and territories and the like.”

  “Like your dear daddy’s Under the Lake whatever?”

  “Precisely. If we were to wish to enter the public eye, the human governments would want us to fully integrate on a societal and governmental level. Instead of being masters of our own destinies, we would be under the thumb of humanity.” I could hear the smirk in his voice. “I doubt the populace of the United States would cede the rights to the territory we now occupy, after all.”

  I nodded slowly as I led us up an incline. “But if everything is on the down low, deals can be made and everything swept under public notice. If nobody knows that there’s a secret kingdom of faeries – “

  “Elves, my dear,” he corrected. “Faeries are a whole quiver of arrows in and of itself.”

  I threw up my free hand. “Whatever. If no one knows there’s a secret wonderland, they won’t make a deal about it.”

  “More or less. There are some finer points that I could go into, being the son of a king and all, but we don’t need to go into them.” The magical light whirled around, its emerald glow glittering through the dusty air. “You are obviously a Dwarf, a species known for their short statures, magnificent beards, great strength, and an instinctual harmony with underground spaces.”

  I nodded slowly at the obviousness of it all. “And how did you know I wasn’t simply a short, stubborn bearded lady?” I wasn’t doubting the reality of the situation but it was a valid question. I didn’t exactly have a sign in the store’s window advertising Dwarven services for hire.

  “Oh, well, all Figments share one peculiar magical trait.” As he continued to explain, it was obvious to me that we were getting as close to the surface as possible. I began keeping an eye out for some way up to a basement or the sewers or something. “No doubt you felt a strange tingle in your spine, gooseflesh on your arms, or something like that right before I arrived?”

  “I did.”

  “As you might now guess, that sensation was basically a proximity alarm for other Figments. I’m a bit surprised you have never experienced it before. We might be rare but to never have run into another, well, I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Well, it’s how it’s happened.” I glanced back at Aelfie. “Why aren’t I feeling it now?”

  The light fluttered again as he rolled the orb along the fingers of his right hand. “Well, it’s like any other sense in a way. Your brain is smart enough to filter out things that aren’t critical to its survival. As you know where I am, you’re filtering me out.”

  It all made sense and it made me wonder another thing. “Right, so does this have anything
to do with the language you and I were speaking? I know I’ve never heard it before and now I speak it like I grew up with it.”

  “Were speaking?” He laughed that intoxicating laugh of his. “You are still speaking it, my dear.”

  I stopped in my tracks. Aelfie was right. I hadn’t even noticed we’d been talking in the lilting fantasyland language this entire time.

  “It’s quite all right,” he explained, “as your deduction is correct. There is a strong connection between our ability to sense one another and the Truespeech that we communicate in. We are born with it on our tongues and it binds us together as something distinct from normal humanity.”

  “Well, I have to say, for mystical, magical oddness, this is all making more sense than I’d expect,” I nodded as I got back on the move.

  “Don’t worry, Mary, things will return to its natural state of chaos soon enough. We haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of the preternatural world, magic especially.”

  I made a face. I didn’t like his tone when he said that, especially his emphasis on the word ‘magic’. “Are we going to be digging deep into that then?”

  He was silent for a moment before finally deciding to answer in deadly serious tones, “Yes, quite a bit.” His usual mirth returned quickly, though. “Don’t worry about that right yet. Let us tackle one obstacle at a time, like finding real sanctuary.” With a chuckle, he added, “Preferably one with a full-sized bath and a soft, warm bed.”

  “Will a hot shower and a lumpy couch be enough?” At the edge of the green light, I could make out a set of stairs at the end of the tunnel. They were of newer construction than the tunnels themselves, made from scrap wood and covered in almost as much dust as the floors themselves.

  Aelfie let out a mournful sigh. “I suppose I will have to suffer. Such is the burden we of royal blood must bear.” I shot him a withering look over my shoulder and he raised his hands with a smile. “I’m joking, truly I am. Whatever you have to offer I will be more than happy to take.”

  “Why is it I’m not surprised to hear that?” I chuckled playfully as I turned back towards the stairs. “Most players like you will take anything they can get their grubby hands on.”

  “You wound me, Lady Stone.” Fortunately, Aelfie returned my playful tone with a matching one. “I am a paragon of virtue and a valorous champion of honor. That is a sufficient number of superlatives, yes?”

  “Oh yes, you’ve convinced me of your sterling morality.” It was all right to play this game for now but sometime very soon I was going to have to pry the truth out of Aelfread’s mouth one way or the other.

  We were a good ten feet from the stairs when I stopped, half-turning towards the Elf and holding a hand up for him to stop. “Hold up a moment.” While my intuition said we were as close to home as we could be, I had no idea if it was safe or not. “I’d better poke my head up first.”

  Aelfread’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as his eyebrow arched again. “You don’t have to go alone.” I didn’t need to read his mind; the courage to make that offer instead of keeping his head down was touching.

  I grinned and smoothed out my beard. “That’s sweet but you asked for my help to keep you safe and the other mysterious whatever and I agreed.” I glanced towards the stairs. “I wouldn’t be holding up my end of things if I let you walk into the unknown for no reason.”

  He let out a breath in relief. “Then I will do your bidding and wait right here.” He held out a hand for the emerald sphere and it landed in that open palm. “Do you need the light?”

  I shook my head as I began walking. “Thanks but let’s avoid the obvious magical shenanigans. There might be normal folks up there or nobody at all, right?”

  Leather creaked as he leaned against the wall behind me. “Very well. Just remember to speak English instead of Truespeech.”

  Aelfie’s words made me pause. It took a conscious effort to switch gears in my brain. It wasn’t hard but it still took active thought.

  “Right,” I said in English. “Thanks.”

  The stairs were crude, nothing like the fantastic work done on the tunnels, but they seemed sturdy enough. I put a foot on the first step and put all my weight down on it. When the entire thing didn’t collapse into a pile of shit and splinters, I made my way up.

  Just past the ceiling of the tunnel, I came onto a landing lit by a flickering bare bulb and another flight of stairs backtracking upward, ending in a rusted trapdoor with no obvious locks. I hoped that it actually opened up onto something … or that it opened at all.

  Before testing it, I took a deep breath and tried to pay attention to my senses, searching for that tingle in my spine I had felt before. It only took a second of navel-gazing to find it, buzzing mildly and tugging gently back down towards Aelfread. Trying to open that feeling up, the intensity and pull of the tingling didn’t change.

  Figuring that had to be the closest thing to an ‘all clear’ I would get, I took a deep breath and walked up the last flight of stairs. There might not have been a lock but the rust was thick, especially on the hinges. I gave it a test push and it didn’t budge an inch. Frowning to myself, I planted my feet and shoved hard upward with both hands.

  The metal rang out from my open handed slap as the rusted hinges howled and gave up the fight. The whole thing flew upward hard but stopped abruptly halfway up its arc accompanied with splintering wood and shattering tiles. Crumbling debris and dust tumbled down through the half-open door, accompanied by the soft, even light of fluorescent bulbs and the fresh scent of clean laundry.

  Despite the stinging dust in my eyes, I was almost ecstatic at the onrush of sights, sounds, and smells connected to the mundane world. For a moment, I doubted the reality of everything that had happened from the moment Aelfread had walked into my store.

  It was only for a moment, though.

  I took another breath and the reality of my new situation came back on strong. Relaxing for a moment, I let the trapdoor come back down before shoving up hard again. The metal door hit the remaining timbers in its way hard, finally swinging open wide.

  Reaching up with both stubby arms, I barely managed to reach the sides of the opening, but I managed it. With a mighty heave, I hauled myself up, over the lip, and into the light.

  Chapter 5

  IT TOOK MY EYES a moment to adjust to the even lights of the laundry room I had just broken into. Even in the middle of the night, there were still washers jittering in their perfect rows and dryers spinning in the walls. From the barely working vending machine to the flimsy plastic chairs, it was all familiar territory to me.

  The stones below had led me right to the basement of my apartment building. Chalk up another win for my knack and another fact to reaffirm everything Aelfie had told me.

  The other thing that was oh so familiar was Mr. Jimenez, the building superintendent, sitting like a leathery gargoyle on the little, canvas camp stool he brought everywhere in the building. While he had probably been stationed in front of the dryers when I first started smashing up the floor, he was now lurking not a dozen feet from the newly uncovered trapdoor.

  If there had ever been a person I’d have suspected of being a supernatural creature since moving to Saginaw, it would have been Mr. Jimenez. For instance, I didn’t know his first name nor did anyone else in the building. He had been here running the Triangle Point Arms for longer than anybody could remember and he certainly looked like he had been here for centuries.

  Mr. Jimenez was tall, maybe seven feet or more when he could manage to stand upright. Most of the time, though, his stick-thin frame was curled into a C-shape, a victim he claimed of a horrible case of rheumatoid arthritis. Despite that, his long fingers were quick enough despite his gnarled, brown knuckles and he never asked for the help of a single soul living his life.

  In other words, he was almost a mythical thing but as much as everyone in the building thought that, he didn’t bring on the tingle like Aelfie had.

  We stared at e
ach other with only the constant rump-thump noise of the spinning machines keeping us company. Mr. Jimenez ended the moment by blinking slowly and saying, “I like you, Ms. Stone, but I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you for the floor.”

  Tile dust and grit clung annoyingly in my beard and hair but I ignored that for now. “All right, Mr. Jimenez, my apologies.” I glanced momentarily behind me. “You’re not concerned that I just came up from under the floor in the middle of the night with no warning?”

  He arched his crooked neck, the loose flesh there hanging like a wattle. “Your lease doesn’t make me your father or your caretaker, only your landlord.” His watery eyes refocused on me. “You can burrow to the center of the Earth for all I care if your rent is paid and any damages you cause to my building are dealt with.”

  I clambered the rest of the way out of the hole and started to dust myself off. “I guess that makes sense.” The prospect of trying to squeeze my minuscule check from the Easy-E-Mart any further was terrifying but I could deal with that later.

  Mr. Jimenez clucked his tongue. “Well, let’s see.” He rubbed his chin slowly and thoughtfully as I collected myself. “A safe, low-ball estimate would be two thousand dollars.”

  Fear turned into panic as my eyes widened. “You can, uh, take that in payments?”

  “Again, I like you. I really do,” - here came the ‘but’ - “but you barely make your rent as it is. Unless you can provide some token of good faith, I am forced to ask that you present the payment in full before the end of the month.”

  My mouth unhinged. “If you don’t think I can make payments, how the heck do you think I can find two thousand dollars before then?” I wasn’t sure what had been more shocking: the sudden existence of the supernatural, the fact we were having this conversation at all, or the extent of Mr. Jimenez’s demands.

  The ancient landlord shrugged, his bent shoulders shuddering with the effort of it. “I don’t know, Mary, but I do know you’re smart and hard-working. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” As my grungy shoulders fell, dryers began to buzz, capturing Mr. Jimenez’s attention. “Ah. Warm, dry blankets.” He began to scoot himself and his little chair back to the far wall. “Have a good night.”