by Sandell Wall
Chapter 1
REMUS TAPPED HIS HAMMER against the scythe blade on the anvil in front of him. Folds in the steel made the blade look wet. He had been working on it for the better part of the morning, and it was almost perfect.
Like a cave, the smithy was oppressive with its heat and darkness. Deep within its bowels came the ringing of hammers bending metal to man’s will, deeper still was the glow of runes as they were writ into that same metal. Remus had been told a thousand times that the throbbing heat of the forge was the heartbeat of the empire. His master loved to drone on about it, saying grand things like, “For hundreds of years men have devoted their lives to crafting the weapons and armor that become the instruments of the emperor’s will. As long as the fires are hot and the hammers pounding, the might of the empire will march on.”
“Where did you learn to forge folded steel?” a voice said from behind him. Holmgrim, the master blacksmith, had been watching Remus work. Big, bushy eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he asked the question, and a thick grey beard hid the man’s frown.
Remus shrugged. “I figured it out.”
“Don’t mock me, boy. No one ‘figures out’ the secret of folding metal.”
“Someone had to, the first time.”
Confounded, Holmgrim had no response. Instead, he shooed Remus away from the anvil. “Go on now, the customer will be back soon and he won’t understand if you’re the one making the finishing touches.”
“When are you going to tell them I forge all the blades?”
“When you’ve made apprentice. Now get on with you. Go work on your assignment.”
His assignment. The blade of a shovel he could bang out in his sleep. He groaned inside as he walked to his corner of the smithy. The unfinished project lay on a training anvil. He plunged the crude piece of metal into the forge.
I hate this place.
Sweat stung his eyes and sizzled on the anvil. Little salty droplets streamed from his dark black hair, each drop trying to quench metal hot from the forge and his relentless pounding. Every ringing blow was fueled by anger and frustration. The blows of the hammer should have been the forging of a craft, the making of a destiny. But to Remus each strike felt like driving nails into a coffin.
I never asked to be a smith. I never wanted this.
“Remus!” Holmgrim shouted.
He surrendered his fight with the anvil and looked up, making no effort to hide his sullen attitude.
“You will destroy that piece if you hammer it any harder. Stay focused, boy! What’s gotten into you lately?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m not in love with the idea of spending my life in a backwater smithy.” He regretted the words, but his frustration was boiling over into anger.
Remus braced himself, for Holmgrim did not tolerate insolence. But the big smith did not rebuke him. To his surprise, he saw hurt in his mentor’s eyes. He was taken aback. To see any emotion in the flinty eyes of the master of the smithy was jarring. Remus’s concern grew as the somber smith slowly removed his leather apron, picked up the finished blade, and walked out of the smithy. Remus sighed.
He’s going to work me to death for this.
He stood there, feeling lost due to Holmgrim’s unexpected response. Looking for something to distract him from feeling sorry for his outburst, he glanced at Axid who was working deeper in the smithy. Axid was older than Remus, old enough to be an apprentice in the guild of rune carvers. As Remus watched, Axid used a runestone to illuminate the details of a scroll that was spread out on the table before him. The light cast by the rune in Axid’s hand gave the young man an ethereal glow.
“What ya workin’ on, Ax?” he said, moving to look at the scroll on the table. Axid was older, but between the two of them, Remus was the one big enough to pass for a man.
Axid was slow to respond. “This scroll. I don’t understand it. I don’t recognize any of these runes, and we don’t make this sort of piece in this smithy.”
Remus let out a low whistle as he looked at the scroll. “We don’t even make swords in this province!”
“You know you’re not supposed to look at rune drawings,” Axid said, moving to block Remus’s view.
“Seriously, Ax,” Remus said. “You don’t work on anything important. The rules of the guilds are to protect the secrets of the craft. The type secrets that will never find their way to this dump, and certainly not into your hands.”
“I don’t know, this is different.”
“Well, let me see then!”
With a begrudging sigh Axid moved out of the way. Remus inspected the scroll, hungry for every little detail. Intricate foil work on the parchment shimmered like rivulets of colored mercury, reflecting the light of the rune in Axid’s hand. Woven together by a master, the rune patterns pictured on the blade looked more like a work of art than the diagram for an instrument of war. Each pattern was a line of rune-script, every line a different symbol flowing up and down the blade. Different colors of foil denoted a different type of rune. Remus counted at least four different colors, which meant the sword would be a formidable weapon.
“A zweihander?” Remus said, reading the details of the drawing from the edge of the scroll. “It’s just a big sword.”
“Yeah, big enough that you couldn’t even swing it!”
Remus’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be an idiot. But I’ve never seen Holmgrim forge a weapon. Why would this be here?”
“I don’t know, but it has to be a mistake.” Axid rolled the scroll up. “And if it’s a mistake, that means we shouldn't be looking at it.”
“Of course it’s a mistake. No one would want a sword of that quality crafted in this dung heap.”
Axid whirled around, hurt in his eyes. “Dung heap? Backwater smithy? Is that really what you think of this place, of us?”
“Aw, come on. I’m just frustrated is all.”
“Frustrated or not, you should not provoke the master. You go too far.” Axid, still holding the light rune, had dropped his hands to his sides. Yellow light bathed their faces from below, giving them a ghostly appearance.
“I’m almost as good as Holmgrim,” Remus said. “So why does he still force me to slave away over pointless work that should be beneath me?”
Axid frowned. “You’re not even an apprentice yet! He’s testing you the same way all guild aspirants are tested. You can’t expect—“
Hands raised in mock surrender, Remus interrupted, his voice harsh, “I know, I know. The rules and requirements of the guilds are important.” He sighed. “My first guild classes start today. Actually, I need to leave soon if I don’t want to be late.”
The way Axid’s face brightened was comical. “Really? That’s great! I’m certain that the rules of the guild will make sense to you when explained by a real teacher.”
Annoyed, Remus turned away and headed to the washing barrel. Over his shoulder he said, “Sure they will. They’ll continue to ignore the quality of my work while telling me what I cannot do without ever explaining why I can’t do it.”
With sloppy splashes of water Remus cleaned the soot and sweat from his arms while Axid muddled his way to a response. Remus watched the dirt and ash sluice off into the water. Some primal emotion in his chest swelled as he contemplated the elemental nature of the liquid, and in his mind’s eye the swirling surface was transformed into a howling gale on an open sea.
You cannot trap the ocean in a barrel.
Axid tried to speak, but before he could utter a word, Remus cut him off with a sharp chop of his hand, drops of water staining the stone floor beneath his wet arm. “I’m not staying here, Axid. This is not who I am, not who I want to be. I don’t know why a smith of Holmgrim’s talents is out here in the middle of nowhere, but I won’t let him keep me here. Once I join the guild, I’ll be leaving as soon as I can, any way I can.”
Unable to compose a reply, Axid sputtered as he watched Remus prepare to leave. A severe frown twisted his normally placid features.
/> Remus shrugged into his travel cloak and headed for the front door of the smithy. “I have to go to class now, Ax.”
He opened the door and paused before stepping out. Glancing back at Axid he said, “You don’t have to tell Holmgrim we opened that scroll. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He stepped outside and closed the door before Axid’s frown turned into words.
A dry, hot wind was blasting in off of the empty fields that surrounded the town. Irritated, he swatted dark hair out of his eyes. Hood raised against the blowing grit, he started down the street.
Delgrath, like most border provinces, was relegated to supplying the center of the empire with grain. Everything in the province existed to put bread on the tables of those fortunate enough to not have to live there. The academy where his classes were being held was the only two-story building in the territory. Holmgrim’s smithy was located on the outskirts, so Remus had to walk across town to reach the academy.
Dirty and dilapidated, Delgrath barely warranted a mark on the map of the empire. People only stayed because they could not leave. Harvest time would bring an army of laborers, but for the rest of the year the place was almost deserted.
Buried down deep in his heart, Remus harbored a fear that this was it, this was all he would ever know. No glory, no great story, just pounding out plows for filthy farmers for the rest of his life. The town was quiet, so he was alone as he walked. He kicked angrily at a stone in the street.
Stupid classes. What a waste of time.
He took a detour to pass by the nearest rune post. From a young age he had been fascinated by runes. Each rune post was a square pillar of wood taller than a man. On each of the four sides of the pillar were rune symbols, the same symbols and descending sequence on every side. The blue symbol for levitation and the yellow symbol for light were glowing softly on each face of the pillar in front of him. These illuminated runes corresponded to runestones that were being powered in the academy. With a quick glance at one of these pillars the citizens of Delgrath could tell which of their rune-inscribed tools and equipment would be activated. Remus paused to run his hand over the deeply carved rune symbols on the pillar.
Here is the mystery. Anyone can hammer metal into shapes, but there are still secrets to be unlocked from the runes.
Remus approached the academy from the front. Positioned to maximize the effectiveness of its rune casters, the academy powered the farms in a large radius around it. Rune power became weaker the farther one was from the source. He glanced up at the second floor of the building where a faint glow of light, blue with a tinge of yellow, was visible through the large windows that were unique to the building.
He entered the front door and followed the signs through the quiet hallways. Delgrath was too small, and the place too understaffed, to have someone available to greet visitors. Apart from his class, there was no teaching or learning here, just a few rune casters slaving away at the menial task of powering farming equipment. Remus hated the place. Its walls felt too much like a prison trying to hold him in Delgrath forever.
The classroom was on the second floor, which gave Remus the opportunity to peek into the room where the rune casters worked. He was not allowed, but could not resist. The casting room was a large, open room with windows on three sides. Evenly spaced throughout the room were knee-high platforms supporting runestones.
Like weights of measure, the stones varied in size. Some would fit in a palm while others were as big as an anvil. When not in use the multifaceted stones looked like carved gems with a single rune symbol suspended inside.
Slumped over on short stools, two casters were at work. Eyes closed, their palms rested on the stones in front of them, and as Remus watched, the stones pulsed with a subdued inner light. He knew that any tool of metal, stone, or wood inscribed with runes matching the symbols within the illuminated gems would be imbued with power. In this case, as indicated by the rune posts in town, the casters were activating the runes of light and levitation.
Mental clock ticking down, he realized he would be late if he lingered any longer. He curbed his curiosity and left to find the classroom. Remus’s heart sank when he entered the class. Every seat but one on the first row was already filled.
The teacher gave Remus a reproving glance and said, “Aspirants of the guilds must be punctual to my classes if they want a passing mark. Don’t be late again.”
I’m not late, old man; I’m on time. And anyway, I came from doing real work.
Still feeling bold from mouthing off to Holmgrim, he almost snapped at the teacher. But something in the way the teacher held himself, the way he looked at Remus with a hard, unforgiving eye, caused Remus to swallow his cockiness and go meekly to his seat. The teacher was a grizzled man of powerful build. A leather patch covered his left eye, and the brown leather strap was conspicuous as it looped around his balding head. He had gray hair, trending towards white, neatly groomed on the sides of his head.
When Remus was seated, the teacher addressed the class. “Now that we’re all here, we can start. My name is Sentras. I served in the emperor’s Legions for the greater part of my life as a foot soldier. Towards the end of my career I showed a knack for administrative work and instruction and so found myself training raw recruits at a Legion stronghold. At that point it was clear that I would never serve in a combat capacity again, so I retired from the Legion and sought employment with the guilds. It turns out that they too have need of administrators and teachers, particularly those willing and able to travel to the more remote provinces of the empire. So here I am. Any questions?” There were none.
Sentras continued, “I am here to give you the basic instruction required by the guilds to become an apprentice. You may view this requirement as a formality, and truly it is, but you better take the instruction I give you seriously. The guilds randomly test apprentices who are working towards journeyman, and if they are not satisfied with your knowledge, they will not advance you.” He paused and looked around the room, making eye contact with Remus last. “I’m not really here to test whether you pass my class or not, but given my military experience the guild has empowered me to turn away any recruit I deem unfit. So don’t disappoint me.” Remus held Sentras’s gaze, but Sentras looked away before their stare-down turned into a contest of wills.
“Now,” Sentras said as he clasped his hands in front of him, “let’s dig in. As you are aware as citizens of the empire, we owe our might of military and industry to the runestones. You are forgiven for taking them for granted thus far in your lives, but no longer. Should you become an apprentice you will devote your lives to these stones.”
Remus frowned. He did not like being spoken down to. And he took nothing for granted.
“Around four hundred years ago the first emperor, Trajanus of Amalt, delivered humanity from the long dark. This is the start of our history. We have no written record of the events of the dark ages. Through research, experimentation, and ingenuity, he discovered how to harness the power of the runestones. Before that the stones were considered nothing more than precious gems — pretty relics of a long-dead civilization. Emperor Trajanus closely guarded the secret of the true nature of the stones as his kingdom amassed power. The kingdom of Amalt purchased runestones from neighboring kingdoms no matter the cost and soon waged war to acquire those stones that could not be bought.” Sentras paused and looked at the class, “Have any of you heard this before?” Everyone but Remus shook their heads no. “I’m not surprised,” he said.
“Anyway,” Sentras said, sounding like he had the entire lesson memorized word for word, “no one dared stand against Trajanus and the rune-powered armies of Amalt. Their understanding of the runestones pales in comparison to ours today, but even employing the most basic of runes makes an army of men trained to use them a terrifying foe. Rather than fight this new and mysterious power flowing from Amalt, most kingdoms surrendered. Trajanus had no desire to oppress the kingdoms he subverted, so he united them into an empire. The power
of the runestones was shared with the loyal kingdoms that gained his trust. Soon enough Trajanus of Amalt stood completely unopposed. Thus, the Alkomian Empire was born.”
He paused here to make sure his students were still paying attention. “Any questions so far?” Remus raised his hand.
With a nod Sentras indicated that Remus should ask his question. “If Trajanus only discovered the runestones, where did they come from?”
Sentras pursed his lips and then said, “That question enters the realm of the academy and its researchers. No one agrees completely on where the stones came from or why and how they work, but all agree that they were created, perhaps manufactured, and do not occur naturally. Which leads us to believe that they are the remnants of some ancient and powerful civilization. Once Trajanus had a solid base of power and imposed peace, there began an era of archeology and exploration unlike the world has ever known. Every poor fool was trying to find long forgotten runestones and the secrets of their origins.” Sentras paused before continuing. “Your question is a reasonable one to ask, but to delve deeper into the answer is far beyond this class.”
Annoyed at the non-answer, Remus settled back into his seat, determined to not listen to anything else that was said for the rest of the class.
——
The timbre of Sentras’s voice changed in the subtle way that indicates a lesson is coming to a close. Remus perked up as Sentras started to make the final points of his lecture. “The consequence of the noble houses closely guarding their runestones is that the Legion does not have access to runes powerful enough to be used in combat. Don’t misunderstand me, the legionnaires of our empire are formidable soldiers. But their primary function is keeping the peace and supporting the warriors of the noble houses. The Legion employs basic runes, similar to those used here in Delgrath, but nothing that comes close to the power and complexity of the rune artifacts. Praetors, the champions of the empire, carry the artifacts of their houses into battle. Those of us in the guilds support these heroes and the warriors they lead. Some of you will probably only ever end up working for the Legion, or in some minor province like Delgrath, but if you aspire to greatness, you will seek to become attached to a noble house.”