Soderberg
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Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2025-01-10 06:00:32 +0000 UTCVidar made his way to the second blockage, but it took far longer than he’d like to pinpoint its exact location since the area marked on the map was so wide.
This time, it wasn’t a hole in the wall where the water was supposed to flow through, but one of the open, tall drops into a basin. The groove in the floor, where the water was supposed to flow, was all but empty except for a trickle at the bottom. Unsure of what might have caused the stoppage, Vidar held the light rune out in front of him, pointing it up the stone corridor. Shadows of strange shapes moved with the light up ahead, but they were too far off to get a clear view of what was amiss.
He made it farther up the walkway and couldn’t believe his eyes. The whole corridor was blocked off. Pieces of broken-down wooden boxes sat atop twigs and bushes, cloth, and decidedly rotten carcasses too far gone to make out what sort of animal they’d come from. The enormous blockage must have built and built upon itself over several years, from just a single piece getting stuck sideways. Very little water made it through at the bottom.
Vidar wasn’t sure what to do. From what he could hear, the water still swooshed about on the other side, and the whole thing creaked ominously. He peered deeper into the mess of garbage. A threadbare coat that might once have been a green hue clung to two branches, stretched taut between them. One of its pockets bulged noticeably.
He glanced at the other pieces of garbage surrounding the jacket and then at the whole blockage. The smallest of nudges might be enough for the whole thing to crumble. Vidar would have to be careful. Being light and small, he figured he’d reach in and empty the pocket without doing too much damage. After that, all he had to do was pull out the correct branch to let some water flow out without immediately destroying the whole blockage.
With his way forward carefully planned, Vidar reached in with his entire now-recovered arm. The coat was still just out of reach, and he had to press himself into the disgusting pile to grab hold of the pocket. Pulling on the outer fabric of the pocket made one of the branches shift slightly, and water spurted forth with surprising pressure in a tight arc, hitting the side of Vidar’s head. Startled, he let the coat go. It did not make the water stop. The mess of wood and garbage that made up the blockage creaked and groaned.
Vidar took a careful step back and watched a sizable chunk of the blockage before him shift. He turned and ran. A deafening crash sounded behind him and the roar of water soon followed.
Before he made it to the perpendicular corridor off to his left, the water already reached well past his feet. The frothing river surged past just after he turned in and hugged the wall. Plenty of water rushed in to drench his pants, but it didn’t rise higher than that.
Once the first massive wave passed and the amount of running water returned to normal, Vidar trudged back into the corridor but found no trace of the coat or anything else useful. The ground had been swept clean by the water. Irritated at the lost opportunity, he shone his rune into the dark basin.
There it was again. The eyes. Far off in the darkness, light glinted off two huge, circular eyes. The sound of stone grinding against stone he’d heard during his first descent into the sewers sounded again, louder than ever. This was the same basin as last time. He’d just approached it from a different direction.
Vidar ran.
“I’m never coming back down here again,” he panted, looking over his shoulder. Everything in his body, his chest, heart, and head told him he was being pursued, but nothing was coming. Nothing was chasing him. At least not as far as he could tell. When he thought about it, whatever was down there hadn’t moved. Not this time, and not the last time he spotted them. That glint didn’t necessarily have to be from a huge monster’s eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips. It could be silver, or even gold and gemstones.
Curiosity eclipsing fear, Vidar halted. He held his breath and waited. No. There was nothing coming for him. Still with a sense of unease and uncertainty, Vidar returned to the edge overlooking the basin. Again, he wanted to run, but he forced himself to stand fast. He’d get nowhere in life if he kept fleeing from every opportunity.
The kenaz rune did not reach far enough. Light bounced off two points far off in the distance, but it was impossible to make out any details. They did not move. That was a relief. Vidar drew in a breath and closed his eyes, imagining the circle of power in the rune he held. Hoping it wouldn’t destroy the whole thing, he ever so carefully widened the opening at the top, where essence was flowing out at a slow and steady pace.
The rune’s strength more than doubled. Light cascaded throughout the basin and beyond. Vidar screamed and almost dropped the rune over the edge as he fell back, scrabbling on hands and feet to get away from the edge. He’d been right from the start. It was a monster.
Heart pounding in his chest and breathing out of control, Vidar stopped. He swallowed hard, waiting. No great beast flew out of the darkness to devour him. Yet, he had seen it. This time, he couldn’t tell himself otherwise. An enormous head belonging to the two glimmering points. The head of a monster.
Vidar stood on shaking knees and got to his feet, raising the light rune high above his head. There it was. No, not a head. A skull. His breath caught in his chest as he stared down at the thing. It was far off in the distance, on the other side of a broken-down wall.
Judging by the distance between Vidar and his discovery, the thing had to be massive, and that was just the head. Everything beyond that was still claimed by the darkness.
The reflection of light intrigued Vidar. Bone wouldn’t do that. A gem, perhaps? They would have to be huge. One such gem would be enough to live off for the rest of his life. No more cold for him. No more embarrassment.
He stared at the skull for a little while longer, then carefully leaned out over the edge. From what he could tell, there was no way of getting down there, at least not from where he was standing. The basin itself fed into the general area around the skull, but it did not look like a conscious choice from whoever built the sewer system. Not with how the hole in the far wall was shaped. It looked more like it’d been pushed outward, crumbling around itself to reveal the chamber beyond.
Vidar peered down. There was one sure way of getting down there. The water below was fed from several corridors, and the water frothed and churned. That drop was doable. He’d done the very same one before without drowning, if barely. It could be done, but not at that very moment. To quest downward to the skull, he needed food, and he needed warmth.
The sowilo rune. Without it, he’d surely freeze to death before he even made it to the skull. Just remembering the cold water and being stuck down there was enough to make him shiver.
He marked the map and the path he’d taken to get there. This map, he would not return to Embla. Questions swirled in his head. There was more to this place than he’d been told. He found it unlikely Embla knew anything more, but someone would know. Before returning here, he’d teach himself how to use the warmth rune.
Also, he’d need to find whoever was making these maps and the markings on them. They had to know about the dead monster beneath the underground sewers. He wouldn’t outright ask about the skull, of course. Doing so might invite them, whoever “they” were, to go search for themselves. Vidar couldn’t risk that. The prize down there was his and he would not share with anyone.
The third and final blockage wasn’t too far off, but it still took him a few hours to find and dispose of it. Unfortunately, this one was in one of the waste tunnels, which added to the less-than-enticing scent around him.
Vidar did find a few more copper coins on what appeared to be an older merchant of some sort, judging by what he’d been wearing on the day of his death, an apron and the sort of small bag one could swing over one’s shoulder. The bag was empty.
Having completed his mission, Vidar reemerged onto the street. His pants were mostly dry by then, but the cold still shocked him after being down in the warm tunnels for most of the day.
Hurrying back to Embla’s, he stopped by a locksmith’s shop. It shared a wall with a blacksmith, and both men were hard at work from the sounds streaming out onto the street.
He entered the locksmith’s and hoisted the sewer key. “Can you make a copy of this?”
The locksmith held it up to a rune lantern in a meaty fist. After a moment of inspection, he put it back on the counter between them. “What kind of key is this?”
“Can you make a copy or not?” Vidar asked.
The locksmith scratched at his bald, shiny head. A droplet of sweat traveled down the side of his head. “Suppose I can. It’s a strange-lookin’ one, but it’s nothin’ special.”
“How much?”
“Depends on what it locks, don’t it?”
“Why does that make a difference?” Vidar asked.
The heat from the blacksmith’s forge next door, and the smaller forge in this shop, made the space even warmer than the sewers, and Vidar began to sweat almost immediately. “I’ll pay for the copy.”
The locksmith gave Vidar a searching look. “Of course you pay. Who said you wouldn’t pay?”
Vidar sighed in exasperation and pointed to a small brass water pump near the far wall. “It’s to the sewer and water systems. I work down there to make sure you fine citizens don’t have to leave your homes to get the magnificent water you all enjoy so much.”
“Water, huh?”
“Water,” Vidar confirmed.
“You don’t smell like no water.”
“And sewers,” Vidar added.
The locksmith looked from the key to Vidar, then back again, before picking it up and putting it back up before pushing it toward Vidar.
“Five silver.”
“Five?” Vidar reeled. “Five to copy a key?”
“Five silver to copy this key. The sewers belon’ to the city, I’m sure. That means this key is property of the Crown, if ye think about it.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“They don’t take kindly to unauthorized work.”
Vidar frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Only. Crown. Copy. Of. Key. Make,” the locksmith said, enunciating each word like he was talking down to a half-wit. “If you want a copy, you pay extra, then keep your mouth shut.”
“I don’t have five silver. How about four silver?” Vidar countered.
The locksmith sighed and held out his hand. “Fine.”
“I don’t have four silver either.”
“Then you can go right ahead and piss off.”
“Maybe there’s something else I can do for you?”
“I’m no’ lookin’ for an apprentice.”
“Your runes. Keeping your fine establishment warm and properly lit must cost you, especially that forge.”
Vidar had peeked inside and saw no coal or other fuel. There had to be a rune down there, but it was far too hot for him to get near enough to see an inscription.
“Didn’t you just say you worked shoveling shit down in the sewers? You a rune scribe now as well?”
“I am a man of many talents,” Vidar said, bowing with a flourish.
The locksmith tossed a small iron cube to Vidar. “Fix it.”
“This?” Vidar asked, peering down at the small, surprisingly light construct. A kenaz rune was etched into it, almost invisible if you didn’t look at it from the side. Judging by the weight, it was hollow.
“Go on,” the locksmith said.
Vidar focused and imagined the circle. In his mind, it was empty. He opened it and proceeded to funnel his own essence into that emptiness. Surprised at the amount required to fill even a little of the space, Vidar gritted his teeth. By the time it was full, his arm was fully numb, and he had to prop it up using his other arm.
He handed it back, breathing hard, his head swimming. “There.”
The locksmith held up a hand, palm facing forward. “Not yet. You have to trigger it too. Make it so only a little gets out. I want it to keep going for a good long while.”
“You can do that yourself,” Vidar said, unable to mask his irritation.
“I’m no scribe, boy.”
“Neither am I,” Vidar muttered, too low for the other man to hear, as he triggered the rune, following the instructions to keep the opening small.
Only then did the locksmith accept the cube. He mounted it into some adjustable contraption that allowed him to angle the light in any direction he wanted. “Thanks, little one. That would cost me twenty pretty silver from one of them proper rune scribes, or ten from a student.”
“Twenty?” Vidar asked, his eyes wide. “Pay me the difference, then. Give me sixteen silver.”
The locksmith laughed and scooped the key up from the counter. “Return tomorrow and I’ll ’ave this copied for you.”
Vidar grumbled but didn’t press his luck. At least he’d get the copy without paying anything himself. Now he just needed to deal with Embla without her asking for the key back and then eat something before meeting up with Alvarn. There was a lesson to derive from this exchange as well. With those sorts of prices, rune crafting was a very real way for Vidar to make a living.
“Tomorrow, then,” Vidar said.
“Tomorrow,” the locksmith agreed.
He thought of asking the locksmith for a peek at the sowilo rune in his forge but thought better of it. Even if he was able to see the runic markings, remembering them well enough to transcribe later was beyond him. Vidar did remember the small markings on the wooden disc Alvarn let him hold, but the exact tilt of the lines eluded him no matter how hard he tried to remember. If the markings weren’t just right, the whole thing was liable to blow up in his face, Alvarn had told him. Best be careful.
What Vidar needed was a pen and something to trace a rune’s markings on. The thought of sitting over an empty piece of paper made his heart quicken and his chest tightened. When he looked down at his hands as he walked back to Embla’s house, they were both shaking, and not from the cold.
Embla, for once, was not sitting behind her desk when Vidar finally arrived, once again thoroughly frozen. She sat on the stairs leading to the second floor, conversing with a man Vidar hadn’t ever seen before. Tall with broad shoulders and a red, bulbous nose, the man wore a guardsman’s uniform. This was the first time he’d seen such a uniform in good condition, not dirty or tattered.
Vidar swallowed hard and was about to flee when the man turned slightly to regard him, stroking his black mustache.
“Wait in the other room, lad. Your mistress and I will soon be through conversing.” His voice was cold and stern, but not necessarily unfriendly.
Embla nodded her head to where they usually met in the mornings, and Vidar hurried out of sight. The guard hadn’t recognized him. It wasn’t Vidar he was after. After being assaulted by those cretins, Vidar couldn’t help but fear that yellow shield on a white background that was their emblem.
Without a door to block Vidar off from the front of the house, he was able to follow the conversation he’d interrupted.
“You are the mistress of these wayward children, which is why I thought it best to come to you directly. Your peers have already been informed, and I hope you’ll heed my warning. These indiscretions cannot be allowed to continue at this rate. Something minor every now and again is one thing, but this escalation is far beyond propriety.”
“Thank you for coming here, Captain Anderson, but I assure you, my wards are well informed of the repercussions of stepping outside the line of the law. Nevertheless, I shall imprint your words upon them.”
“You have my gratitude, mistress,” Anderson said.
The whole house seemed to creak and shudder under his weight as he turned and left the house. From the quick look Vidar got, he was not a fat man. Just big. Perhaps bigger than Embla’s henchman.
Embla entered the room and sat behind her desk with a heavy thud. Her face looked pale, and she drew in a deep breath through her mouth and then breathed out through her nose while closing her eyes, as if trying to center herself.
“What was that about?” Vidar asked.
She held up a finger and raised her head to the ceiling. “You may come down now! Go eat your dinner and keep your noses clean. I won’t protect you forever!”
