by Devin Hanson
"Tonight, then. You're not getting out of it so easily. And don't worry, I've got the water covered," Jules reassured him. "You figure out our sleeping arrangements and I'll set that up."
Andrew left her, puzzled but trusting to her knowledge and wandered around the crown of the mountain to get his bearings. The crown had a tall, sharp spur of rock projecting up from the southern slope with a gently rounded cap leading to the precipice to the north and less extreme falloffs to the east and west. The spur had a fall of scree around its base, probably blasted free by lightning, judging from the starred cracks in the rock. An old saying wandered into mind, ‘the reason why lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place is the same place isn't there the second time.' If they were up here long enough to weather a storm, they would have to think about lightning and take precautions.
Besides the fall of scree, there were a few boulders and outcrops, but otherwise the mountaintop was bald. He returned to Jules with the beginnings of a plan forming. "How long do we intend on staying up here?"
"Long enough to spot your dragon then try and make some sense of her flight paths. We should be able to figure out where her den is, or at least which direction it is in."
"So days."
"At least," Jules agreed.
"I was thinking we should set up a shelter, then. Something to break the wind at night and block the light of our fire."
The thought of a campfire brought new life to Jules' eyes. "I like fire. How do we do it?"
Andrew showed her the scree fall and pointed out a boulder that was leaning against a ledge on the western side. "We can use pieces of scree to," he made layering motions with his hands, "build up a wall then use one of our cloaks as a roof."
Jules nodded along until he got to the part with the cloaks then shook her head. "I've got a better idea. You wait here." She jogged over to where she had left her pack and came back with the vial of dragongas. "Time for your first lesson in alchemy."
She uncorked the vial and put her finger over the top, shaking it back and forth a few times. "First of all, alchemy does nothing to living tissue. The dragons and us have completely different life forces and one cannot effect the other."
Jules walked over to a chunk of scree that was eight feet long and probably weighed upward of two tons. She knelt down next to it and smeared a tiny amount of dragongas on it then closed her eyes in concentration, muttered a few syllables too quickly for Andrew to make sense of them. "Okay, move this rock over to the boulder."
Andrew looked at her aghast. He couldn't even shift it with all his strength, let alone move it.
"Well, come on now. It won't last forever."
Disbelieving he was even attempting it, he walked over to the rock and knelt down to lift it up. To his great surprise, it rocked easily when he put his hand on it, and weighed no more than a hundred pounds when he lifted it onto its side. It was the same alchemy that the Master Burreg had used to get the engines moved to his workshop when Andrew had first arrived in Andronath.
"What did you do?"
"Move it while we talk or it'll wear off and you'll be crushed like a gnat."
Andrew complied, dumbfounded, dragging the huge chunk of scree to his intended campsite. The one rock made up the whole wall he had envisioned spending the rest of the daylight putting up.
Jules continued talking as he worked. "The vocal representation of runes, combined with a mental certainty of what will take place, is the core of alchemy. Dragongas, or other vitae, is necessary to act as a flux between our physical rules and the extended dragon rules. Dragongas is the cheapest and most widely used, though it is not the most efficient. It's possible to measure exactly how much vitae is needed in order to achieve the desired effect through calculation and experience. You should brace it, as it will become very heavy soon."
Andrew set about gathering smaller shards of scree and wedging it along the base of the main wall, bracing it upright.
"Okay, that's enough, I hope. Back up and let's see if it holds."
Andrew jumped back and felt a little sheepish when nothing happened then started as the slab crunched down, smashing a few of his attempted supports into flinders. It sagged a foot then the boulder accepted the weight and it held.
Jules gave a little cheer. "Okay, let's find a good roof piece. The words you speak," she continued as if she hadn't let off her lecture, "are direct translations of the names of runes." She repeated the gesture of shaking the vial with her thumb over the opening then flicked her fingers, saying "Igan!"
A blast of flame erupted from her hand and cascaded to the scree fall where it roiled and pooled about, pure liquid flame. It lasted for a few seconds then vanished with a puff of smoke. Andrew was forcibly reminded of the dragon breath blasting through the gondola of the airship. "The flux used, and amount used, determines the length of the effect, along with the amount of disparity invoked. Calling flame from nothing is a massive waste, as well as incredibly consuming. A huge disparity between a cool breeze and a roaring inferno. Making a rock lighter is much less taxing on the flux, as the disparity is only one-dimensional.
"The more aspects of disparity, the shorter-lived the effect. However, if one were to seal the effect with a solid Tan, you would have an object with its alchemical adjustments permanently applied, though a weak Tan would allow the vitae to wear off, taking the effect with it when it fails. Doesn't work for things like flames or swampgas, as you can't carve runes into them, but something more permanent, like this wonderfully flat piece of scree here, can be perpetually affected by the alchemy applied. Observe:"
She smeared the dragongas onto the scree piece she had pointed out, and rattled off the same phrase as before. Now that Andrew knew what he was listening to, he heard the cadence of runes. Then Jules leaned over the rock, stylus in hand, and carved a precise Tan into the rock, taking her time and making it precise. It took her less than forty-five seconds.
"There we go. Now if you would do the manly work of getting this into position, we will have our shelter."
Andrew lifted the rock onto its edge and found it weighed about the same as the last piece had when it had been modified. "Can you make it heavier or lighter as you desire?" he asked as he dragged it along.
"Of course. But the more you change it, the shorter the duration of the dragongas. Too much change and you don't have time to carve your Tan into the object before it reverts, or you have to use more vitae."
"Why don't you carve the runes directly into the rock, then? That seems like a more direct way, and longer lasting."
"Ah," she placed one finger next to her nose and gave a mischievous smile. "It is, indeed. But it also would take an hour or more to carve a proper Airweight Saying. And I'm tired from the day's hike and sore from being lain on. So I use alchemy instead. I get the exact effect desired with minimal effort. No risk of carving the Saying wrong, no blisters on my fingers. And at minimal expense."
Andrew shook his head. Minimal expense for her, perhaps, but Andrew could have eaten for a week on the dragongas used to make the two boulders light. "I can see why alchemy is more popular than runing."
"Oh, indeed. All you need to know is a good Tan, not even a great Tan, to be a wealthy alchemist. For the rich lordling who just wants to dabble in the mystic arts, alchemy is so much more attractive than an actual course of study to learn runes."
Andrew had their future roof by their shelter at that point and spent ten minutes trying to figure out how to get it lifted into place. When he managed it, their shelter was several times larger than he had originally planned on; room enough for a fire and both of them to lay down comfortably without danger of igniting blankets. More importantly, there were no chinks for firelight to shine through. The opening to their shelter was blocked by the rise of the rock spire, making it impossible to see their fire unless someone walked, or a dragon flew, within a dozen yards of the shelter.
"That's about as good as it's going to get," he decided, after spending a few minute
s piling small shards of scree in the corners to close up the last of the gaps.
"An excellent little hideout, if I do say so myself," Jules agreed. She dragged her pack over and unrolled her bedding to reveal a handful of short branches. "Firewood! Why don't you carve us a nice fire and I'll relax and watch the birds."
Without waiting for his inevitable objections, she grabbed her spyglass and skipped out leaving Andrew cursing but digging his own stylus from his pack. As much as he objected to Jules leaving him with all the work, he was excited to practice his runing again.
With the pile of sticks wrapped in a fold of his cloak, he followed Jules to the southern cliff's edge. She was sitting cross-legged, her cloak in pool about her, spyglass pressed to her eye.
"I have a question," he said, as he made himself comfortable next to her, "how, exactly, are we going to get water up here? It doesn't look like rain and there definitely is no groundwater." With his stylus, he set about carving a careful Warding chain about the base of the first stick, leaving about three inches free. "Some kind of alchemy?"
Jules took her time responding then finally answered, "No, it's rune work. I suppose it could be done with alchemy as well, but this tool is all carved. Your scale," she took the spyglass down and looked at him, "is just one scale."
That was cryptic, but Andrew let it slide, knowing she would get around to the point in her own time. He carved a Tan into the short end of the stick; it wouldn't do to have it burning.
"Each type of dragon is different and has its own set of runes. Tan is one of the few that is universal. Ad and Add is another. Igan is unique to fire dragons, as are a few others. The runes that go into the Airweight Saying might as well be universal as well."
"Is it on my scale?" Andrew asked. He carefully carved his new Igan into the stick, leaving out the final jag and put the stick aside, picked up the next one.
"Yes."
"That seems like a handy one to know."
"It is complex, though I suppose you might be able to learn it fairly quickly once you know the source runes. There aren't many. Ir, the rune of air, On, the rune of binding. You need to know the rune for the object you're making light. Your scale does not have Da, the rune of stone, but I can show it to you."
Andrew set the second completed stick aside and picked up a third. "What materials does my scale have?"
"Steel, Co, iron, Ca, wood, Me and... I'd have to look again."
"It seems like the materials are very broad concepts. Wood, stone, there are many flavors of those, yet one rune is enough to say which. Iron, though, is not that different from steel, yet it has its own rune."
"Metals are all unique. Stone," she shrugged, "is just stone."
"Are there rare runes then?"
"There are indeed. There are very old scales in the Academy archives kept within glass domes hardened with double master Tans. Unbreakable. The runes on those scales are only known to a few. I've studied them, but there are precious few that I was able to duplicate."
Andrew set the next stick aside and picked up another. His hands seemed to move of their own accord, deftly carving the runes into the stick with his stylus.
"You're getting fast at that. Make sure you are not making mistakes. Here, let me check for you." Jules picked up one of his finished sticks and examined it. "Your Tan is fine, your Warding chain is solid. But is this supposed to be Igan? You've carved it wrong."
"I don't think so."
"No, I'm quite sure. This is not Igan."
"Try it then," Andrew shot back. "Finish the jag yourself."
Jules frowned at him then held the stick at arm's length and finished the rune. The sun dimmed and a massive wave of heat and light slammed into Andrew.
Chapter 14
Master Rune
Andrew found himself on his back, his ears ringing, face singed. His vision was blocked by a massive sunspot. Jules was cursing, her hand pressed against her stomach, the stick lying on the ground next to her, a curl of smoke rising from its length. Her cloak was singed and smoke drifted from her sleeve.
"What...?" he coughed. He had had his mouth open and it felt like he had just drank a massive gulp of boiling water.
"Ow," Jules said quietly. "I may need some help."
Andrew pushed himself to his feet and caught her as her legs started to sag. "Easy there." He helped her away from the edge of the cliff and back to the stone shelter. Gently, he got her hand away from her stomach. It was blistered to the wrist.
"I have a salve in my bag," Jules slurred. "And bandages."
Quickly, Andrew dug through her pack, holding up vials and jars until Jules nodded, then helped her spread a coating over her hand. Further digging around found a package of linen strips, which he used some of to loosely bind her hand.
"That," Jules said when he was done, "was not Igan." Her eyes looked bruised in the rapidly fading light. "I don't know what you carved, but it definitely was not Igan." She leaned her head back against her bedroll.
"I... I'm so sorry."
The distress in his voice made her turn her head. "What? Why would you be sorry. I challenged your rune and got burned for it." She shook her head. "Served me right, too, challenging a budding Runemaster. With Igan, no less." She forced a wry laugh. "At least I had the presence of mind to disrupt it before I dropped it. We would never have been able to put it out."
"Think you'll be alright?"
"I'll need a day or two, but burns aren't exactly uncommon at the Academy. The salve is very effective. I'll be good as new in a week." She sat up a little bit, new interest in her eyes. "Can you show me your Igan?"
It took Andrew a second to realize she was asking permission to see his rune. He frowned, conflicted. As much as he wanted to show her, and felt like he owed her, he didn't know if it was right.
Jules' face fell as he hesitated. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I doubt I could copy it anyway. I've only been able to learn a few master runes."
"Is that what it was?" Andrew asked, confused. "I thought you said it wasn't Igan."
"Igan is fire, Andrew. Whatever you carved was not fire. But if you can make the rune perfect, it changes. Becomes a master rune. No doubt you thought you were carving Igan, but if you were to look at it objectively, you'd see."
"I guess I can go get it. You going to be alright?"
"I'm not made of glass, Andrew." Jules' face was tight was pain, but she smiled regardless.
"If you're sure... I'll be right back." Andrew slipped out of the shelter and jogged to the edge of the cliff where the sticks he was carving were scattered about. After a careful search of the valley to make sure there were no dragons hunting for a meal, he gathered up the sticks and jogged back. Jules was where he had left her, using her good hand to drink from her waterskin.
He sat down next to Jules and picked up one of the sticks he had carved and looked again at his Igan. "Honestly, it looks like Igan should look," he shrugged and handed it over to Jules.
"Are you sure you want me to look?" she asked.
"I don't see the harm in it."
Jules shook her head ruefully. "At the Academy, a master rune is protected with violence if necessary. It's strange to be handed one with no attachments."
"You're my teacher. It seems only fair."
"See the honor of the gunny," she murmured, and held the stick up to the fading light. She stayed in the same position until the sun finally dipped behind the horizon. Andrew sat quietly, watching her study the runes he had carved, taking no small pleasure in the way the setting sun ignited her eyes, setting the golden flecks burning amidst their field of green.
When she finally lowered the stick with a sigh, Andrew sat forward. "Well?"
"You're not a master yet," she said decisively. "Though I suspect it won't be long now."
"Told you it was just Igan." Despite his words, he felt a small loss that he hadn't perfected his rune, then immediately chastised himself for being disappointed. He'd been runing for less than a week. He c
ould hardly expect perfection in that time.
She chuckled. "No, it's not Igan, either. I'm almost afraid to see what it does when you've perfected it, though." She handed the stick back to him. "Why don't you carve us a fire. And try not to kill us this time?" A chill wind was starting to gust around the mountain's peak and Andrew realized his hands had grown numb as he sat watching Jules.
Andrew laughed and nodded and set about carving Igan into the sticks, taking care to make the rune the simple version Jules had taught him and shaking his hands every few seconds to try and get some feeling back into his fingers. In a few minutes he had a cozy little fire going. He turned to ask Jules a question and found she was asleep. Moving slowly, he got her more comfortably situated in her bedroll. She woke up just enough to help get her boots off then fell back asleep almost immediately. For a while he sat, gazing at her face, so peaceful in repose. When she was awake, her face was full of determinism and an indomitable will. All of that faded away to an almost childlike calm, her long dark lashes fluttering slightly as she dreamed.
With his mentor asleep, Andrew had nothing to do but stare at his scale. Inevitably, his gaze was drawn back to the Igan. Jules had said it wasn't a master rune yet. What did she mean? He studied the scale until his eyes hurt then lay back in his bedding, listening to the quiet breathing of Jules across the fire.
His eyes strayed to the roof of the shelter and the shadows dancing across it from their campfire. Alchemy was definitely amazing. Such a simple action to make such a massive piece of stone light as air. Out of habit born from last night's dueling, he had set the stone with Jules' Tan facing down, incidentally directly over his head now as he lay trying to sleep.
The flickering light from the fire danced over the Tan and, feeling slightly guilty, he compared Jules' Tan to the Tan on his scale. They looked exactly the same. As the light flickered over Jules' Tan he saw something ephemeral in the rune above his head. Some minute difference only visible in the changing light that he hadn't seen before. And yet, despite the nagging feeling that there was indeed something different, he still couldn't see it when sleep claimed him.
