Soderberg
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Chapter 43
🕑 Added 2025-01-27 09:17:08 +0000 UTCThe streets of Halmstadt were almost deserted in the night. The citizenry had acquired some experience in quenching fires from the first attack that allowed them to get a handle on this second bout of ravaging flames much quicker. Now, they were all quenched as far as Vidar could tell. Having rented a room outside of Andersburg, he was unable to see just how much damage had been done, but he hoped it wasn’t as bad as last time.
With the solution to slaying that dragon at hand, the people of Halmstadt would hopefully be able to rest easy soon. Taking a detour to avoid the church and rune scribes’ guild meant a longer walk, but he didn’t mind. With both mind and body burning with excited energy, he wasn’t tired at all. At least, he kept telling himself as much as he neared his destination.
The gates to the upper city were closed and the drawbridges were pulled up, separating the most wealthy and influential part of Halmstadt from everyone else. No matter how much Vidar yelled and cursed, he didn’t get as much as a reply from up at the wall.
One of the entrances to the underground passageway was nearby. Vidar didn’t particularly want to take that option with his new, fine clothes. Bad enough he’d done it once already, but repeated excursions into the depths would make the coat permanently reek. Still, with no other options available to him, it was the only route. Better this way, really, since he wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle of convincing the first line of guards to let him pass rather than throw him in jail.
This part of the tunnels was known rather well to him, and he soon found himself at the entrance near the jail. Going closer to the keep was a gamble since the only entrance he knew of was by the plaza, and that one collapsed. Climbing up, Vidar was able to use both hands with barely any pain at all in his left. It wasn’t pretty to look at, but all he cared about at this point was getting its function fully restored. With a rune, and such a useful rune too, now permanently embedded in his flesh, you might even say its function was improved.
Not even bothering with a kenaz rune, Vidar withdrew the key and found the lock by touch. The familiar deep-seated click made the hatch jump a little, but when he pressed on it, the thick piece of metal didn’t budge. Confused, he pocketed the key again and positioned himself so he could use both arms. The thing weighed a ton. No matter how hard he pushed, there was no getting it open. This had never happened to him before. Why now?
Then he realized the reason. Jarl, the bastard, knew he used the tunnels by now and must’ve blocked them to keep Vidar out.
“That asshole didn’t trust me to keep my word,” he muttered into the silent, dark, and confined space. Suddenly, being underground wasn’t such a free experience anymore. Vidar shuddered at the thought of being stuck down there.
No. He needed to calm down. One entrance being blocked did not mean the tunnels were useless. This was still Vidar’s domain. When things calmed down, he’d go above ground and remove whatever they’d used to block his way. This did, however, present a problem. With the gates barred and the tunnels blocked, no path forward remained to him.
He pondered the problem as he made his way back the way he’d come. Exiting onto the street, Vidar made sure he was alone before locking the entrance. The wall was tall and without handholds, so there was no way of scaling it. Unless.
Vidar dug through his pockets and found what he was looking for. Two stakra runes. Remembering Alvarn’s display with the hovering piece of wood, Vidar thought that maybe, just maybe, he might be able to re-create the trick on a grander scale.
Waiting until morning was out of the question since there was no knowing when the dragon might return, and he was sure it would. If Jarl and his soldiers wasted every arrow, there’d be none left, and they’d have no way of defending themselves. Halmstadt would be obliterated.
The circles in Vidar’s mind showed the stakra runes at full capacity. Crafted by Siv, they were of good quality, and the lines looked just right. They’d be efficient, but would that be enough?
Like most runes crafted by Siv and the boys, holes were drilled through the sides of the wood to allow for leather straps. As he hurried along the wall to reach a more secluded spot, far away from the gate, he undid the knots to a pair of kenaz runes and used those straps on the stakra runes instead, shaking his head all the while. This was madness. Experimentation like this was best left to more stable, and less deadly, conditions, but few choices remained to him. Vidar briefly considered strapping the runes to his hands, but figured it was preferable to use his feet. Legs were stronger than arms, after all, and less prone to breaking, he hoped. Also, with his hands free, he would be able to grab hold of the parapet. At least, he hoped he would be able to.
As he neared a favorable spot, he picked up motion again in the corner of his eye. Again, when he looked, there was nothing but shadow and darkness between the houses. Not having heard a thing, he hurried along while throwing glances over his shoulder.
There! Up on the roof. That’d definitely been something moving. It was impossible to tell in the dark and it was gone as soon as Vidar shone a kenaz rune over in that direction. All that brightness made him far too easy to spot, though, so he removed the trigger and ran instead.
It felt like the darkness was closing in around him, so when he reached the spot, he was more afraid of what was behind him than the wide, yawning gap and drop into the cold water beneath.
Vidar jumped, realized he couldn’t trigger the stakra runes through his shoes, panicked, and bent down to touch them with his hands so he could trigger them. The less-than-graceful jump and subsequent tumble meant the force from the stakra runes threw him straight at the wall, rather than up.
A sharp pain through his shoulder made Vidar gasp, and he pushed away with his hands, angling himself away from the wall. This, it turned out, was a mistake. Vidar shot away from the wall with a shriek, then leaned forward on instinct, changing his trajectory. Slamming into the wall the second time hurt even more than the first, but he managed to right himself so his feet pointed down.
The force from the stakra runes pushed him upwards with incredible force and speed. All in all, they lasted less than five seconds and ran out before Vidar crested the wall. Thankfully, the upwards momentum was enough, and he managed to grab hold of the slippery, cold edge. With a grunt, he threw a foot over and then used whatever strength was left to him to climb up.
He lay there on his back, panting hard and grinning like a mad bastard. He’d flown. For the briefest of moments, he’d left the ground to soar. Vidar had to hold his hands over his mouth to stifle the laughter trying to get out. His stupid plan had worked, and he’d like to see whoever was pursuing him re-create that stunt!
Only after catching his breath and calming down did he realize guards might be patrolling the wall. He turned around and got to his knees, trying to look in all directions at once. He saw no one near him, but a light shone farther down the wall and Vidar narrowed his eyes. A ballista was mounted to one of the small towers along the wall. They must’ve built the thing up there at some point, because there was no way they’d carried it up the narrow ladder. It was much too large for that. The fact it pointed away from the keep reinforced that idea. It was old.
After removing the stakra runes from his shoes and transferring a little essence from the dwindling supply of rejuvenated kenaz and sowilo runes just in case, he stood and began searching for a way down into the upper city.
Plenty of ladders reached down, but it took Vidar a little while to find one away from any guards. They were easy enough to spot, with the bright light coming off each pair as they patrolled. Unable to let the blocking of his entrance go, he snuck past a few empty streets and made his way to it.
Unfortunately, it was guarded. Two soldiers stood next to a laden cart that had been placed right above, one of its wheels deliberately placed to block the hatch.
“Stupid meddling bastards,” Vidar muttered, slinking away back into the darkness. At least now he knew it was not a permanent blocking of the entrance. That improved his mood a little.
Getting up close to the keep was easy enough, but the plaza was crowded with people. Even from a distance, he saw new ballistae being rolled into place. A whole lot of them, in fact, far more than before.
Despite crouching by a cluster of bushes for a long while, watching the proceedings, he didn’t spot Jarl anywhere among the men. He did, however, see men and women clad in the robes of the rune scribes’ guild.
“Should’ve brought my robe,” he whispered to himself.
With that, he might’ve been able to get close enough without risking being hauled to jail by the first soldier who spotted him. He pondered what to do next when Jarl suddenly emerged near one of the clusters of ballistae. The marshal had donned a new cloak, and it whipped around him in the wind. Nothing but empty space separated Vidar from the man, and he decided this was as good a chance as any.
Vidar leapt out from his hiding space and began running as fast as his legs would carry him on the slippery ground. He made it three steps before something thudded into his belly and he doubled over with a grunt of pain.
It was the haft of a spear that’d stopped his progress, and three guardsmen walked up to stand over him as he coughed, trying to draw breath while doing his best not to vomit all over their feet.
“What’re ye doin’ ’ere, basterd?” one of them asked, his voice high, fast, and clipped.
A boot descended on Vidar’s shoulder and then pushed so he rolled over onto his back. The light from a kenaz rune blinded him and made it impossible to make out the faces of his assailants.
One of them reached down to give Vidar a hand, allowing him to get up to standing. “Apologies for my brutish companions, my good man, but are you not aware of the curfew currently in effect?”
“Dat dere is de one, no? From de poster, no?”
“What poster?” Vidar grumbled. “I’m no one.”
“Oh, dear. I believe you are correct, Archibald.”
“Archie! Not Arseyball! Told yev a million times!”
Three pairs of arms grabbed hold of Vidar, and he soon found himself being handily carried away from the keep.
“You can just let me go,” Vidar tried.
“Afraid not, my good man. Our orders are strict and our sergeant stricter. You’ll have to remain in our custody for the time being.”
“We know whad ye’ve dun,” the guard who sounded like his nose had broken and then healed wrong said.
“Murdered,” the other said. “Don’t ye think to try any with us.”
“That is another good point, Archibald, my friend. It would be most prudent to conduct a search of this gentleman’s belongings, lest we end up like the others.”
The one who spoke like some stuffy aristocrat took the matter into his own hands and reached for Vidar’s coat, but Vidar did not intend to allow such a search. Without his tools, escape would be all the more difficult.
With the two other louts holding on to his arms, Vidar’s legs were free. He reached up with his legs and kicked, driving his heels into the lofty guard’s face.
The guard fell back with a yelp. One of the other two let go of Vidar’s arm to check on his friend while the third threw a punch aimed at Vidar’s gut. A weak algiz rune activated but ran out immediately, shattering without reducing much of the punch’s power. Still, the barrier threw the guard off, the translucent flicker surprising him to the point of letting go to shield his face, as if thinking it was an attack.
Vidar coughed again from the punch but was finally free. His first thought was to leg it in Jarl’s direction, but the screaming had attracted more guardsmen and even some soldiers. People were coming from all directions.
He saw a small gap. It was to the south, away from the keep, but things were quickly getting out of control. Vidar ran, narrowly escaping the grasping hands of the first three guards. When he approached a fourth and a fifth, he blinded them with a kenaz rune and sidestepped their clumsy attempts at catching him.
With free, open space ahead, Vidar ran for all he was worth. Soldiers and guards pursued him with surprising speed, and by the time he threw himself at the rungs of the ladder back up to the wall, it sounded like the entire town was awake and out to get him.
Vidar had only made it halfway when his pursuers reached the ladder and jumped up, grabbing his shoe, clinging on. Kicking the determined soldier in the face didn’t deter him one bit, but Vidar’s shoe came loose. The soldier fell, buying him a few seconds of time.
He climbed on with one naked foot on the cold rungs and then on the even colder stone. Soldiers were running down the length of the wall, quickly approaching his position.
With only one way forward remaining to him, Vidar peered over the drop. The way down did not look inviting. The craziness of his earlier attempt was undeniable. Still, what choice did he have?
Vidar quickly slipped the stakra runes on and got up to stand tall on the parapet. Just as the first soldier reached him, crying out in triumph, Vidar leapt straight forward and out into the open air.
He screamed in fear and exhilaration as a tingling, sucking feeling grabbed hold of his gut. At the point of falling, Vidar triggered the runes. This time, they didn’t have nearly the amount of essence he’d used before, but the shock to his body and mind was even greater as he was jerked forward with a slight upwards momentum, spinning in the air.
The distance and extra push were enough to propel him over the gap between the wall and the first line of houses, and he landed on a slanted roof with a thud, crying out more from the shock of impact than any pain. Vidar rolled down the roof, and no matter how much he scrambled, his hands found no purchase. Instead, he tumbled off the roof and into a parked cart that thankfully contained animal feed. While smelly, he at least got a decently soft landing in the end.
With no time to spare, Vidar shuffled off the cart and got his feet under him before stumbling away into the dark alleyways between houses. He’d done it, he’d gotten away. A new set of bruises and welts was not much to show for the night’s adventure, but at least he hadn’t been caught. If only he hadn’t lost his shoe.
The guardsmen’s vigilance would increase after this. A second chance was out of the question. So, a different approach, then. Vidar needed to think. No, he needed to scheme. An empty stomach and only one shoe was not a good way to begin such a task.
Most of the inns in the area were full to capacity, but he was in no need of a room. Instead, he bought a pair of almost-worn-through shoes off a lad for far more than they were worth, and even had to give up his one remaining old one. With that problem handled, Vidar ordered some food. By the time he’d finished, something resembling a plan churned around inside his skull. It would be difficult to pull off and it would be daring, but the payoff would be so very satisfying. The perfect elements to a good scheme if ever there was one.
