The Girl from the Rune Yard

by Eric Guindon

  “Do better,” she told the man. “If you truly regret your life, change it. I will not take it from you, not today. Cross my path again as my enemy and I will kill you, I swear it.”

  She told much the same to the other prisoners, leaving each man with a bucket or pot filled with water. They would survive until the gang coming to take away their haul arrived, Haylem confirmed.

  “But what about going to the bathroom?” One of the prisoners asked.

  “There is nothing stopping you going where you are,” she pointed out, a wicked grin on her face. It was the least bit of punishment, but it did give her some satisfaction.

  She could have taken a horse from those the bandits kept, but Kyria decided against it. She departed with nothing belonging to those men. She ran on air, heading south.

  Chapter Eleven:

  I Will Find My Mother

  The way to Groandel was through clear plains. According to Haylem, much of it was farmland in his time. To avoid being seen, Kyria rode the air a hundred metres above the ground. This way, she was also sure to avoid the incoming gang heading to the bandit outpost at Argantel.

  As she flew over the land, Kyria confirmed the area was still mostly used for farming. She quickly lost count of the numerous fields she passed over. The farmers were getting ready for winter now, the harvest was done. The fields looked barren.

  Given the distance she would be travelling, Kyria had no choice but to find places to camp as she went. She kept a lookout for small forests or large stands of trees as each day wore on, selecting the ones farthest from any nearby habitation to camp for the night. This served her well for the week it took her to finally raise sight of Groandel above the horizon. By then she was running out of food packs, even with the rationing she had forced on herself as the days went by.

  She looked forward to arriving in the city, but knew she could not approach much closer to it riding on air, not without risk of being spotted. That night Kyria did not camp; as the sun set, she landed in a small grove not far from the city. In it, she sought out the largest tree she could find.

  Using the runic staff as a digging pole, Kyria made a shallow hole, right beside the tree. In the hole she buried the staff. It was the only obvious piece of runic magic she carried, the only one someone would notice at a glance, anyway. Her cloak, jumpsuit, and boots all bore runes, but only on the inside. Her twin weapons were obviously runic in nature, of course, but so long as she kept them stowed on her belt with the remains of her cloak tightly wrapped around her, Kyria was almost certain they would not be spotted.

  With the staff buried, Kyria took a moment to eat the last of her food before heading out again. She intended to walk into Groandel though the city gates like any other citizen.

  It took the girl another hour on foot to reach the nearest gate. She approached it and was hailed by one of the guardsmen immediately.

  Kyria froze. No one else passing the gatehouse was being stopped. She put a hand on one of her weapons, ready to defend herself if things turned sour.

  The guardsman came closer and looked her over. He smiled broadly at her.

  “Just as I suspected, a beauty! You thought you’d hide under your cloak and I wouldn’t be able to tell, but you gals have a distinctive walk, you know?” The man was only a little older than Kyria, with a full head of flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was handsome and had an easy confidence about him. Kyria smiled back at him uncertainly.

  “Can’t fool you?” She was surprised that it came out sounding like a question.

  “No. Never. So best not to try,” he said and winked. “Just tell me where you’ll be spending the evening tonight and we’ll discuss your infraction there later.”

  “Um, I hadn’t decided,” Kyria said. She didn’t know of any place to name, or even exactly what sort of place she should be naming.

  “New to the city’s night life, then?” His eyes twinkled as he spoke. “You’d best meet me at The Swan, I think. I’ll be there by nine bells.” With that the guardsman turned about smartly and returned to his post.

  What just happened? Kyria wondered.

  You were just asked out, I think, Haylem supplied.

  Out of what?

  Out, to dance and who knows what else. That boy was hitting on you, Kyria.

  Oh. The girl was surprised at how pleased she was of the favourable attention. But I won’t be meeting him. I have other business to take care of.

  Still, you might want to take his recommendation of the Swan to heart, Haylem counselled. It might be an inn as well as a tavern. If it’s good enough for the guardsman, it’s probably a safe enough place to spend the night.

  Maybe, Kyria agreed grudgingly. What I want to do is find my mother, right now.

  But you’re tired, Kyria. You can’t run all day and then go and fight some nefarious organization all by yourself at night, can you?

  No, I guess not. The girl was thankful for having Haylem with her. Without his advice to rest, she would have felt compelled to go on and seek her mother that very night, no matter what. But with the rune-mind insisting she sleep first, making it seem like folly to do otherwise, she could allow herself the respite.

  Kyria went in search of a place called The Swan.

  She spent some time just looking at the signs over the businesses she passed, hoping to spot the Swan this way. After a quarter hour of this, she asked a man on the street:

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find the Swan?”

  “The Swan? Are you out for a good time, girl? You’ll find a much livelier crowd at the Bearded Devil,” he replied, looking her up and down with interest.

  Kyria didn’t like his manner and excused herself. Next, she approached two girls standing alone by an alleyway. They both wore attire unfit for the street, she thought. Their clothes were much too revealing. When she came near, one of the girls made a face at Kyria and told her to find another corner.

  “Pardon my friend, darling,” the woman’s companion said quickly. “You look a bit lost.”

  “Um. I’m looking for the Swan,” Kyria told the nicer of the two women.

  She pointed. “That way, love. You can’t miss it, you can’t.”

  Kyria left with a hasty thank you. Two unsavoury men had approached them and Kyria did not want to be involved in whatever followed.

  A few minutes later, Kyria finally found the Swan.

  Having never been either to a tavern or an inn, Kyria did not know what to expect from the Swan. What she found when she entered the place was a clean, noisy front room dominated by a counter. Two doors led out of the room; one stood open and was the source of the noise. Through that door, the girl could see a busy common room, filled with tables, chairs and patrons. The other door, leading in the opposite direction, was closed.

  Behind the counter, an older man stood ready to help her. He squinted at her from beneath bushy eyebrows, the only visible hair on his head. After another moment passed, with Kyria still not approaching him or speaking to him, the man cleared his throat and said:

  “Can I help you?”

  Ask for a room, prompted Haylem.

  “Can I have a room?” Kyria asked.

  “We have a few free, we have,” the man allowed. It was strange to Kyria that everyone in the city spoke with her mother’s accent. “Three bits a night. It includes an evening bowl and bread. Payment is due up front.”

  The girl opened the pouch containing the coins she had taken from the bandits and withdrew three of the smallest ones. She handed them to the man behind the counter, who put them away. When his hands reappeared, one of them held a key with a tag.

  “Yours is the Duck room, yours is,” the man said as he handed the key over to Kyria. “If you intend to stay another day, make sure to pay before sundown tomorrow.”

  Kyria nodded to the man and pocketed the key.

  “Thank you,” she said. “What was that about an evening bowl and bread you mentioned?” The bite Kyria had eaten before e
ntering the city had been her only food of the day, and she was quite hungry still.

  “You’ll have to hurry if you want it. At nine bells, the common room puts most of the tables away and food isn’t served anymore,” the man told her.

  The girl thanked him and hurried into the common room through the open door. She looked around the crowded space, wondering where she should go to get her food.

  There, Haylem had found a pile of bowls near a large pot hanging over a fire. Beside the bowls was a half-finished loaf of bread. He put a visual arrow to the place in Kyria’s field of view.

  Thanks, Haylem, she thought to him. Her stomach made its own sounds of thanks in anticipation of the meal. Kyria got a bowl and filled it with what turned out to be brown soup. It smelled wonderful, whatever it was. She took a slice of the bread and found her way to an empty table, picking the smallest one she could find.

  Kyria hesitantly took a spoonful of the soup and brought it to her mouth, blowing on it to cool it down. It tasted as good as it smelled, she was pleased to find out. Whatever else was in it, the soup contained a lot of onions and the girl loved onions. The bread wasn’t bad either, though she found it a bit stale. This was exactly the sort of meal Kyria’s mother might have made, back at home. The thought brought tears to Kyria’s eyes, which she fought to hold in. She finished her food in a hurry, trying not to think further about the home she had lost.

  When she finished, she was surprised to find the room transformed around her; the majority of the tables had been put away, as had the food and bowls. More than that, the clientele was changing, with older men and families being replaced by younger folk.

  Did nine bells ring? Kyria wondered. She hadn’t heard them.

  They rang ten minutes ago as you were getting your food, Haylem informed her.

  The girl got up, intending to leave the common room, which was swiftly turning into a dance hall, but as she headed for the door she was accosted by a familiar face: the guardsman from the gate.

  “Not leaving so early, are you?” he asked, pulling her away from the door and back into the dance hall.

  “I have to go,” she told him.

  “But the night is just starting,” he objected.

  “I’m not here for the dancing,” Kyria said plainly.

  “Then stay for some talking,” the guardsman suggested.

  “But I don’t even know you,” the girl protested.

  “How else are we to change that if not by talking?” he asked.

  Kyria gave up, putting her hands up in exasperation. The guardsman laughed and led her to one of the few remaining tables.

  “Anastasia,” the man said to her, once they were seated.

  “What?” Kyria looked around for another woman.

  “No? You looked like an Anastasia to me. Anais? Laina? Wait . . . Joessa?”

  “If I tell you, will you stop guessing?” Kyria laughed at last.

  “Naturally,” the guardsman agreed.

  “Kyria,” she told him.

  “A beautiful name, though not one I’ve heard before. And your accent, so sharp it’s refreshing.” Kyria made a face at the compliments. “Oh. Where are my manners? I’m Mikken.” He extended his hand and Kyria felt she should shake it, so she put forth her own, but instead of shaking her hand, Mikken took it gently in his and laid a small, soft kiss on her knuckles. Kyria found this so strange and, perhaps, a little exciting, that she laughed again. Turning red, she withdrew her hand and hid it back in her cloak.

  “Such a delightful laugh. I will endeavour to amuse you more often.” Not knowing what to say to such a comment, Kyria chose silence; it stretched between them for a minute until Mikken broke it. “Come now, don’t be coy. Tell me about yourself. If you’re not here to dance, what are you here for, delightful Kyria?” he asked.

  What do I tell him? Kyria asked the rune-mind.

  I don’t know. We never considered the possibility that we’d need a cover story, did we? Haylem answered.

  After another thirty seconds of silence, Kyria felt she had to say something, so she did:

  “I’m here looking for my mother,” she blurted out.

  “Oh? Perhaps I can help you find her, I know the city very well, I do. What quarter does she live in?”

  “No. She doesn’t live here, she’s been kidnapped.” Kyria decided to just tell the truth. Why should she have to hide this from the guardsman anyway? She wondered.

  “What?” Mikken demanded, his eyes going wide with shock. He leaned in closer. “Really? By whom? Why?”

  “It’s complicated,” she told him, regretting having said the truth.

  “If you don’t tell me the details, I can’t help,” Mikken pointed out.

  “I didn’t ask for your help,” Kyria told him.

  “You didn’t have to. What sort of friend has to be asked?”

  “Now we’re friends?”

  “Surely, I would be your friend. Especially if you are in need of friends,” Mikken affirmed.

  “But I don’t want your help,” Kyria protested.

  “You can’t go looking for your mother alone, not if she’s been kidnapped. You’ll need help if there’s to be any rough business. You know I’m part of the watch, I’m trained to fight.”

  Kyria shook her head and sighed. She decided she might as well see if the man knew anything useful, if he was going to insist on being involved. She took out one of the hexagonal coins from her pouch and put it on the table between them. Mikken took one look at the piece and his jaw dropped. He looked up at her face quickly, then put his hand over the coin.

  “Where did you get that?” He asked, whispering. A singer had started performing, accompanying himself on a stringed instrument, but it was not so loud that others could not have overheard them.

  “The kidnappers, it’s their gang’s token,” she said.

  “That’s the sign of the Hex and Star. They practically run the city,” Mikken told her. “You can’t go after them!”

  “Maybe you can’t, but I must.”

  Mikken looked at Kyria long and hard, finally showing that he was taking her seriously.

  “Are you absolutely sure about this?” he asked. “Your mother is being held by the Hex and Star and you’re dead set on going after them?”

  Kyria nodded, saying nothing more.

  “I’ll stand with you,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “What’s the plan?”

  “Tomorrow, at sunset, I will go where they are holding my mother and get her away from them, no matter what I have to do. Meet me here at that time and we can watch each other’s backs.”

  Kyria had no intention of still being at the Swan by then. She was not about to drag this earnest young man into the mess that was her life at the moment. He meant well, but he had no idea what he was volunteering for. It would be a shame for this seemingly good man to die uselessly, and she could not afford the distraction of trying to keep him alive as she sought to rescue her mother.

  “I’ll be here,” Mikken said. “I’ll bring my sword and mail.”

  “Fine,” the girl said. “Now, I really must get some rest.”

  Mikken stood up and walked her to the door leading upstairs to the rooms.

  “Until tomorrow, fair Kyria.” Mikken bowed and took his leave.

  The girl shook her head and went in search of a room labelled Duck.

  Kyria spent the next day resting and recovering from the ordeals she had suffered through since the bandits attacked her home and family. She had not realized how tired her adventure thus far had left her.

  “Maybe this will all be over by the end of tonight,” she said to Haylem.

  The rune-mind was silent for a moment before responding. “One step at a time, Kyria. Let us just hope that we recover your mother safe and sound.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean: I hope it all gets resolved tonight. I wonder what I’ll do after that. Will I live with mother and uncle Edvar, here in Groandel?” The girl mused.

  �
�Do you really want to be a painter?” Haylem asked.

  “I didn’t before and I’m not sure I do now, but what other choice do I have? I can’t go back to working the Yard after all this, can I?”

  Could I? Kyria wondered.

  “One thing at a time, Kyria. Let’s focus on tonight,” Haylem suggested again.

  But Kyria had her mind on the future. She had gone to the front counter early in the day to borrow ink, quill, and paper so she could write a note for the guardsman.

  Mikken,

  I apologize for having tricked you, but it was necessary. You simply refused to take no for an answer. This letter is the best I can do to atone for wronging you this way. I’ve included details about a contact point for the Hex and Star. If you really seek to be of help, pursue the gang through that avenue. I wish you luck. My interest in this matter ends with freeing my mother and punishing their leader. You will likely never see me again.

  Still, I want you to know that I appreciated your willingness to help me. You seem a good man and I wish you well.

  Kyria Yardley.

  The girl’s penmanship was atrocious, but the letter was legible enough, Haylem confirmed. Kyria had always wanted to practise her writing, but her parents could never afford the spare paper for her to waste in such a way.

  “I’m a little embarrassed,” Kyria admitted. “I’m sure all the other girls Mikken knows can write better than this.”

  “But how many of them can do the things that only you can do?” Haylem countered.

  “Like what?”

  “You did kill a Terror, just one week ago. I can assure you that no girl Mikken has ever met before you can say the same.”

  “That was luck,” Kyria dismissed Haylem’s point.

  “Kyria, you are a quick-witted, swift-thinking, brilliant, resilient girl. Others would have cracked after the things you’ve been through, but you instead stood up for yourself, vowed to stop those who had harmed you, and set about fulfilling that vow.”