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Runes of Discovery (Book 1): Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-01-07 09:43:51 +0000 UTCThe icy wind blew through Vidar’s clothes as he carefully made his way up the three steps leading to the thick wooden door. Cursing under his breath, he reached up and banged on it with the back of his fist.
“Hjalmar, you fat bastard, open up!”
Wind whipped around his ears and he shuddered. He repeated the motion, with even more power behind it this time. “I know you’re in there!”
He was about to strike the door a third time when it suddenly flew open. Startled, Vidar slid on the ice, almost losing his balance before finding his footing. Hjalmar filled the opening. Glorious warmth and light spilled out around his thick, tall frame, and the older man’s mustache twitched in irritation.
Hjalmar folded his arms over his chest and took a step forward, crowding the small, raised area. “What are ye doing here, ya little shite?”
“You owe me money! Hand it over or I’ll set the guards on you!”
Vidar’s raised hand and pointed finger didn’t do much to impress Hjalmar with the seriousness of the situation.
“Don’t ye think I know ye’ve been tossed out on yer arse, lad? Even yer own father doesn’t want ya no more. Yer poison to the business! That last book was a nightmare. Ye even changed the ending! What kind of scribe does that?”
Heat rose in Vidar’s face, but he refused to back down. No one ever spoke to him like that. “And whose fault is it I’m out here in the cold? Yours!”
Hjalmar gave a resigned sigh. “Look, lad. I didn’t want ye to get thrown out like that, but ye can’t blame anyone but yerself. Certainly not me for returning yer shoddy work. I’ll give ye a little something just to get ye away from my door. Yes?”
“I don’t need your pity!” Vidar spat, poking the much larger man in the gut.
Hjalmar’s face darkened, and before Vidar knew what was going on, he landed on the snow-covered cobblestones with a painful thud. The back of his head struck something solid.
Vidar groaned and pointed up at Hjalmar. “That’s it! Guards! Guards!”
“Look at ye, ya bastard! Who do ye think the constabulary will listen to?” Hjalmar bellowed, now equally incensed. “They’ll haul ye to jail!”
People stopped to watch what the commotion was about. Vidar’s thin layer of clothing quickly grew damp in the snow. He got his feet under him and stood, brushing sleet off himself with increasingly numb fingers. If he didn’t get out of the cold soon, things would take a turn for the worse. Still, he persisted.
“Don’t make me get physical!”
Hjalmar, that bastard, chuckled just as a trio of guardsmen pushed through the gathering crowd of onlookers. They rushed up to the short set of stairs leading to Hjalmar’s door.
“What is going on here?” the foremost one barked. His bloodshot gaze and purple nose spoke of one with a near and dear relationship with liquor, but the short sword hanging on his hip and the heavy-looking iron medallion fastened to his chain mail tunic gave him all the authority he needed.
“Now you’re in trouble!” Vidar shouted, stamping closer while ignoring the wetness creeping into his boots. “Guards, arrest this man!”
The guard’s tired eyes swiveled to Vidar for the briefest moment before he turned to Hjalmar. “Is this hoodlum bothering you?”
Vidar furrowed his brow and shouted, “What?”
Hjalmar looked past the guard and gave Vidar a disappointed shake of his head. “Ye brought this on yerself, lad.” He then turned to the guard, pointing at Vidar. “The boy is harassing me, trying to get silver for imagined slights.”
“You owe me!” Vidar said, taking a step past one of the guards who had yet to speak. This one didn’t look much better than the one taking the lead.
A fist came out of nowhere and struck Vidar straight in the belly, doubling him over and sending him back down to the ground to roll in the snow. For a brief moment, Vidar thought something inside him broke, because it was impossible to breathe. When he finally managed a ragged breath, what little he’d eaten that day gushed out.
The guard who’d punched him looked down at him in disgust and raised a foot before pressing it down on Vidar’s side. Pain blossomed in Vidar’s midsection, and he wordlessly cried out.
“Now wait a moment,” he heard Hjalmar say.
“Get back inside, citizen!” one of the guards barked, pushing Hjalmar back into his house. “The Crown will deal with this miscreant!”
Click.
That bastard even locked the door behind him. At that moment, Vidar didn’t care. The crunching in his body from that boot muted all other sounds in his mind. Pain surged throughout his body, and his face was still covered in that ever-present snow.
Away. He needed to get away.
He looked up and forward and reached an arm out, attempting to crawl.
“Oh no you don’t.”
The boot pressed down harder. Vidar’s vision spun, and he felt the need to puke again. Someone laughed and then several onlookers jeered. A different sound broke through his daze. Steps. Many fast steps by quick feet getting nearer.
“Urgh,” the one standing above him said. The boot disappeared as the fat man’s leg bent enough for all that weight to come crashing down right next to Vidar. An arrow stuck out of the back of his knee.
A small, cold hand grasped Vidar’s still-outstretched left hand. “Come quick!”
Vidar let himself be pulled to his feet as the other two guards swore, pulled their weapons out of their sheaths, and approached to help their fallen friend.
People were shouting now, but Vidar ignored them. The act of standing up required all the will he could muster, and his first step almost made him give up then and there. Everything hurt. Then someone wrapped an arm around his shoulder to help him along, and Vidar thought he saw double. It’d been a girl who pulled him to his feet. Now there were two of her, looking exactly the same. No, he thought, blinking. The second one wore a thick scarf around her neck.
“Hurry up, dummy!” the one pulling him along urged as she stashed away a small bow by threading it over her head. She looked back then, her large eyes widening even further. “Who are you?”
“What?” Vidar mumbled, too groggy to comprehend what was going on with all these doppelgangers helping him.
The nearest guardsman was closing on their hobbled walk, and Vidar shook his head violently to clear it. He gritted his teeth and managed a little more speed, just enough to stay out of the guard’s outstretched sword. The guard was put off balance and slipped on a patch of ice, going down to the cobblestones. Unfortunately, he did not impale himself on his weapon.
“Hey, Siv, it’s not Bjorn!”
The one half carrying him turned her face to Vidar, then furrowed her brow. She turned back to the one pulling him along, who had to be her sister, and let out a short, guttural noise while giving the first girl a determined look.
“Fine,” the girl up front sighed. “Come along then, stranger. Better hurry, or they’ll catch us!”
Each step was a little easier than the one preceding it, and the small group of three outpaced the larger men, if barely. He was soon able to make do without the two girls propping him up.
“We’re going to sharply turn right soon, stranger,” the scarf-less girl shouted. “Be ready.”
“What?” Vidar asked, looking over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have done that. Something frozen and covered with snow blocked his foot and made him trip, sending him to the cold, hard ground for the third time. His surprised yell abruptly stopped when his face landed in the snow.
Clawing at the ground to get up on his hands and feet, Vidar turned to look behind him once more at the quickly approaching guards.
The two girls ran in place a little further down the street. “Let’s go!”
Vidar glanced at them, then peered back as he got to his feet. He blinked, confused. “Lytir?”
A peculiar vagrant who frequented the street where his family lived. Vidar would often stop and talk to him, and would occasionally bring a bit of food to the man, along with a book or two. He hadn’t been there a second earlier, but now Lytir lounged against the wall of a tanner’s workshop, his legs stretched out before him despite the snow.
Both guardsmen tripped on the vagrant’s outstretched legs; one at a time they all fell again. They shouted and swore, but Vidar didn’t stay to listen.
“Took you long enough!” the girl said once Vidar caught up. “Get in!”
When she’d said sharp turn, the girl had meant it. It wasn’t a street, not even close. A narrow gap between two houses continued on as far as he could see. “You want us to go in there?” he asked.
The guards were up on their feet again and were racing toward them. Instead of answering, the girl shoved Vidar in. He had to go sideways, with his face almost touching the cold stone of the house wall, or he wouldn’t fit at all. Crab-walking like that was slow going, but he soon cleared enough room for one of the girls to follow behind, then the third.
The three of them were breathing hard, but this was not the time to stop. One of the guards showed up in the gap and tried pushing himself between the houses to no avail. He was too big. Instead, he reached in, narrowly missing the last girl’s sleeve with the tip of his fingers. If he’d stabbed with his sword, the cold metal would have reached far enough for a killing thrust.
“Get back here!” the guard yelled.
No one answered him.
The guard swore. “Go around!”
“There’s no way we can get away fast enough through here,” Vidar said through ragged breath.
“Don’t worry,” the girl said.
“I’m worried.”
A hand appeared on his shoulder and squeezed. “Just keep at it. My sister and I don’t get caught. Ever. There are many narrow gaps like this around here. This one goes on and on with plenty of ways out if you’re small enough. Good thing you’re so tiny.”
“I’m not that small,” Vidar grunted.
“Small and looks like an imp.” The girl giggled. “Doesn’t he?”
Vidar felt the question was directed at the girl’s sister, but he answered anyway. “I’m a man. Don’t even know what an imp is.”
He kept walking until the girl tapped him and gestured to the side, where a slightly wider gap opened up. Vidar turned, finally feeling like the buildings weren’t pressing down on his chest anymore, like he could breathe in the cold air properly. “What’s your name, girl?”
The girl pointed at her face. An earnest one, Vidar thought. It was dirty and framed by hair dark enough to look black. Her nose was a little too large for her narrow face, and her eyes were too far apart.
“I’m Ida.”
Ida pointed at the other girl who’d yet to say a single word. “This is Siv, my sister. She doesn’t talk.”
“Vidar,” Vidar said, eyeing Siv. “Why doesn’t she talk?”
“That’s not a polite question.”
The wider gap between buildings made it so the wind constantly blew through, making the sweat on Vidar’s back icy cold. He shuddered and hugged himself, noticing how his fingers were a deep purple. That couldn’t be good.
“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
“I’ve got a shirt on,” Vidar grunted, peering over Ida’s shoulder to make sure the guards weren’t following.
“Outside clothes, dummy. Even a boy like you should know to dress for the weather, no?”
“Told you, I’m a man. Also, I was robbed. A ruffian stole my coat and my silver two days ago.”
Just the mention of losing his money made Vidar’s stomach rumble. Finding food when you didn’t have money was quite the challenge, he’d realized.
“That’s no good,” Ida said, looking at her sister.
Siv shook her head and made another grunting sound, agreeing.
“Do you have any food?” Vidar asked.
“We don’t carry food around with us. How about a thank-you for saving you?”
“At least jail would have been warm,” Vidar complained.
Ida chuckled. “You don’t know much, do you?”
Vidar’s face grew warm despite the cold. “And you do?”
Siv grabbed her sister’s coat sleeve, pulling on it.
“I know we have to go,” Ida said to her sister before turning to Vidar. “Look, we thought you were someone else, or we wouldn’t have helped you. Running from those guards is no biggie, but tussling with them? That we try and steer clear of doing.”
Siv shook her face gravely.
“Thank you,” Vidar said.
“Slow to follow, are you? What I’m saying is, you look and talk and do stuff like you don’t have a clue. Why are you out here looking like this? Did the robber take your map back home or something?”
“No,” Vidar grumbled.
“Then what are you doing?”
“It’s not polite to ask,” Vidar said.
Ida raised an eyebrow in a questioning look that made her appear wise beyond her years. “If you can go home, you should, is all I’m saying.”
Vidar stamped his feet, trying to regain some feeling in his toes. “I can’t.”
She gave him a searching look, then turned to her sister. “What do you think? Do we bring him?”
“Bring?” Vidar asked. He would love to be brought. Anywhere was better than here.
Ida ignored him, giving all attention to her sister. Siv looked from Ida to Vidar, then back again. Vidar felt his whole future hanging in the balance and did his utmost to appear harmless and friendly, giving her a toothy smile. Her large, wet eyes regarded him for the longest time before giving the tiniest of nods.
“Guess you’re coming,” Ida said.
A guard shouted somewhere nearby and Ida’s gaze darted, seemingly in all directions at once. “We better go.”
“Where are we going?” Vidar asked, hurrying after, back into the narrow pathway between houses.
“East.”
He blinked and swallowed to suppress a sudden wave of nausea. “East? You’re not taking me to Andersburg, are you?”
She didn’t even turn around to look at him. “Mhm.”
“R-rat Town?”
That made her chuckle. “Wow, you really are new to this. Where did you think we’d be taking you, the keep? Want to get all snuggly with the prince himself?”
“But that place is dangerous!”
They all stopped to listen for a moment. Hearing nothing, Ida must have felt safe enough to stop and talk. “Look at our clothes and face, then look at yours. Dirty. Rat Town is safe enough if you know your way around. Stick with us and you’ll be fine, boy.”
“I’m twenty-two,” Vidar grumbled. “Also, there is no prince in the keep.”
“What do you mean, there’s no prince?” Ida looked shocked.
Vidar shook his head, not understanding her reaction. “This is Halmstadt. No one from the royal family lives here. There’s a steward assigned to our city on behalf of some duke or another.”
Ida looked ready to cry. “How are we supposed to rob a prince if there’s none here?” She looked over Vidar’s shoulder to Siv. “Did you know? You didn’t, did you?”
The gap was barely wide enough for Vidar to be able to turn his head to see Siv shaking her head violently. Frustration warred with disappointment on the mute girl’s face.
Perplexed, Vidar spoke slowly. “If you want to rob a prince, and it’s not something I’d advise, you need to travel to the capital, Stalheim.”
Ida narrowed her eyes. “How far is that?”
“I don’t know,” Vidar admitted. “Weeks? It’s all the way to the east, by the other end of the country somewhere.” He’d seen maps and even helped copy them, but he never cared much about geography.
Ida groaned. “Forget it.”
Then she narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Did you say you’re twenty-two years old?”
He nodded.
“But you’re so short.”
“Height has nothing to do with age!”
His anger only made her laugh. “You’re my height and I’m only fourteen!”
Siv giggled behind him.
Vidar spoke slowly through clenched teeth. “Like I said—”
“We’re just messing with you. It’s a good thing you don’t look your age, or we wouldn’t be able to take you with us.”
“No?”
“Embla would never allow it.”
“Who’s Embla? Your mother?”
That set them both off again, and they kept breaking out into giggles for the longest time as they moved along one narrow path after another. Only when they emerged into the open street again did they quiet.
Ida peered left, then right, then left again before waving for Vidar to follow.
Vidar didn’t have the first clue where in the city they were. Not in a part he’d ever frequented, of that much he was sure. It was quickly getting dark, and he spotted several lurking figures on the street. The people hurrying in either direction on the street kept to themselves, and their furtive glances told Vidar it was best to stay away. A pack of four scrawny dogs rushed past, all of them barking and wagging their tails as they chased what looked like a hare.
Even with the cold and the snow, the smell made his nose twitch.
Ida must have caught it, because she patted his back. “Welcome to Rat Town. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the smell in no time.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Ida and Siv set off, walking side by side, and Vidar followed. She turned and winked at him. “At least the guards rarely come to Andersburg.”
As they walked past a side street, he caught the glint of metal in the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw the flash of a knife flourish that ended right by the eye of what Vidar thought was a beggar in tatters. A few coins exchanged hands and then the assailant was gone, all in the span it took for the three of them to pass by. Hurrying to catch up, Vidar shuddered, and not from the oppressive cold.
“How long until we’re there?”
“Not far now.”
The two girls walked along with almost a skip in their step, holding hands like they hadn’t just entered the most dangerous part of Halmstadt. By the time they turned onto a different street for the third time, Vidar was hopelessly lost. It’d take all night finding his way back if something went amiss. Not that he had anything to find his way back to. Hjalmar had been a long shot, even if it’d felt good to shout at him some. Vidar would get his revenge on the man one of these days. He’d show them all.
“We’re here,” Ida said, gesturing for yet another side street.
By then, it was full dark.
“Where’s here?” Vidar asked, glancing suspiciously into the darkness. This could still be a trap or an ambush or something.
“If this part of town is called Rat Town, then this has to be the Rats’ Nest,” Ida said, smiling. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a dark alley with run-down, single-story stone houses. Three thin wooden doors led into the side of each house. They didn’t look like proper entrances, and by the way these parts of the houses protruded, Vidar thought they were shacks of some sort.
“This is you,” Ida said, banging on one of the doors. “It’s me. Open up!”
The sound of shuffling feet rose from inside, heading for the door.
“See you tomorrow,” Ida said, giving him another wink. She headed for one of the other doors where Siv already waited, then stopped and turned back. “If anyone asks, tell them you’re sixteen, yes?”
Vidar shrugged. “Very well.”
The strangeness of the situation, coupled with the eerie silence hanging over the nearby streets, set him on edge. What sort of strange situation had he stumbled into?
That’s when the door flung open and almost struck Vidar’s face. A sullen-looking boy of perhaps nine years peered out. “Who’re you, then?”
“Shut the door!” someone yelled from within the dark room. “You’re letting the cold in!”
“I’m Vidar. Ida invited me.”
The boy glanced around the dark street, but Ida and Siv were already gone. Then he shrugged and stepped aside and lifted up his coat to show the hilt of a knife stuck down his pants. “Come on, then. Just don’t get any funny ideas, you hear? I’m deadly with the blade.”
“I’m sure,” Vidar murmured.
He stepped inside, and the door closed and locked behind him. The only light was the faint line coming from outside, the moon peeking through the empty lock. A hand pulled him down to the straw-covered dirt floor and then to the side so he touched the stone wall.
Someone shoved a blanket into his hand. “You can use this.”
“Thank you,” Vidar said, wrapping the threadbare cloth around him before leaning against the wall. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out how many people slept all around him, or even how large the room was. In that moment, he didn’t care. It was warm. That was enough. In Vidar’s exhausted state, sleep took him almost straight away.
