Rune Seeker

With a whole city block of buildings put up over the course of the day because of Hiral’s new insight into juggling stones with his runes, the trio left the work yard.

“I can’t believe I’m going to meet Fulerik,” Sander said, his eyes just as wide as they had been that morning. He’d spent so much of the day talking about his idol that Hiral practically felt like he’d grown up alongside the legendary crafter.

Korkin hadn’t been exaggerating—unless Sander was too—about some of the older man’s accomplishments. If anybody could be part of setting up indestructible towers to help contain nearly godlike beings, he was definitely on that list.

“And you,” Sander said, pointing at Korkin. “If… if you knew Fulerik, why didn’t you ever mention it? Or introduce me sooner?”

“You never asked,” Korkin said plainly.

“I needed to ask?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t read your mind.”

“You’re my best friend! We’ve known each other since we were babies. Of course you should be able to read my mind!”

“You change it too often.”

“And,” Hiral said, interrupting the exchange that would never end if he didn’t step in, “we’ll find them at this bar?”

He pointed at the stocky building at the end of the street. One of the first structures to go up on the island, the building had taken on the role of drinking establishment for the gathered workers in the area. More branches had popped up down the construction line as different sections of the city got simultaneously built, but this would always be something special.

“When they aren’t working, Yummi and Fulerik are drinking buddies,” Korkin explained. “They’ll be here. Probably won’t find Catchin with them, though.”

“That’s fine,” Hiral said. “With the description you gave me, I can probably find her later.”

“Drinks are on you, by the way, Hiral,” Sander said as the group stepped through the open doorway.

The upbeat music from the stage at the far end of the room, the general hum of conversation, and the smell of fresh cooking made for a friendly atmosphere. Sure, there was drinking, but nobody got drunk. The work they were doing was too important.

In the entire month Hiral had been there—or, at least, since he remembered being there—not one fight had occurred. Even up on his Fallen Reach, with Shaper law being as strict as it was, barroom brawls weren’t unheard of.

“Actually,” Korkin said, drawing Hiral’s attention back out of his own head, “you’re getting drinks while I introduce Hiral.”

“What!?” Sander exclaimed. “No! How am I going to get an autograph if…?”

Korkin’s big, upraised hand put an end to the argument. “You’ll be distracting. Let Hiral talk to them first. I’ll introduce you after that.”

“They’re right there!” Sander said, pointing at an older pair sitting in the far corner of the room, a dozen empty mugs on the table between them. “I could walk over and introduce myself!”

Korkin slowly crossed his arms. “Why don’t you try that, then? See how Yummi reacts to having her drinking interrupted.”

Sander’s eyes widened at the same time his face went white. “On second thought, I’ll go order us something. Hungry? Great, I’ll get some food too.” With that, the shorter man spun on his heel and practically ran over to the bar.

Hiral looked from Korkin, to Sander, to the table with Yummi and Fulerik, then back to settle on Korkin again. “Uh, from that reaction, should I be carrying my sword?” he asked, pointing to his back where the Emperor’s Greatsword would’ve sat. He’d left the weapon under his bed with nearly two hundred times its normal weight while he worked. The Ring of Amin Thett floated behind him as usual, but people had gotten used to seeing it around, so it didn’t attract attention anymore.

Only took two weeks for people to stop throwing balls through it...

“Nah, it’ll be fine,” Korkin said. “Fulerik owes me a couple drinks. He won’t mind us talking to him. Besides, they might be gone by the time you get back from grabbing it.”

“The fact you even added that last part makes me think I might actually need the sword,” Hiral said, half-tempted to just summon the weapon to his hand anyway. No, too much collateral damage. I just finished putting most of these buildings up.

“It’ll be fine. Really,” Korkin said as he started weaving his way through the tables towards the far corner.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Hiral just shook his head and followed the bigger man, nodding at or greeting people he recognized as he walked. Sure, he’d spent most of his time with Sander and Korkin, but he’d worked with almost everybody in the room at one time or another.

“Fulerik, Yummi, good to see you,” Korkin said as he strode right up to the table. The two people at the table—so old their skin looked like sand-blasted bark that’d been baked in the sun—stopped their drinks mid-way to their mouths.

“Where’s your loud friend?” the woman asked, her cup paused just an inch from her lips.

“Ordering food,” Korkin said.

“And this is that PIM user everybody is talking about,” Fulerik said, putting his large mug to his mouth and tilting his head all the way back. “What can we do for you?” he asked after downing whatever was in the cup.

“May we?” Korkin asked, pointing at the two empty seats at the table.

Fulerik put his empty mug down on the table, then gestured to the seats. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Hiral said, following Korkin’s lead and sitting down.

“You got a name?” Yummi asked him.

“Hiral.”

“The footnote guy?” Yummi asked Fulerik.

“Could be. You know the doc?” Fulerik said to Hiral.

“Yeah. Met him in Ratchett,” Hiral said.

“Yup. Footnote guy,” Fulerik said with a nod. “That’s a compliment, by the way. You made enough of a good impression with the doc that he remembers your name.”

“Did kind of save him from an abomination and an Infested,” Hiral said, and the two older people sized him up like they were trying to decide if he was exaggerating. When he didn’t flinch, Yummi gave a low whistle.

“Would’ve loved to see that,” she said. “Not many people can say they’ve given an Infested a walloping. You good in a fight, then?”

“I didn’t do it by myself,” Hiral clarified. “Part of a party.”

“And you didn’t answer my question,” she said, leaning forward on the table.

Maybe it was the intensity of her stare, or maybe it was something to do with her magic, but the whole building seemed to tremble under the weight of her eyes.

“Yummi! Quit it!” came a shout from the bar, and Hiral pulled his attention away from the woman.

The whole place had gone quiet. Even the musicians were paused on the stage, their eyes roving across the ceiling. A sprinkle of sawdust from the thick, decorative beams above showered through the air and caught the light.

So, magic, then.

“Sorry,” the woman called to the bartender with a wave of her hand before sitting back. Like the building itself was letting a breath out, the tension fled the room, and the noise picked back up. “So?” she asked Hiral.

“I’m okay in a fight,” Hiral said.

“He’s underselling himself,” Korkin said. “I’ve seen him move. And what that beast of a sword of his can do. I’d bet there isn’t anybody on the four islands who can take him, except maybe one of the others from his party.”

“And what does such a mighty warrior want with these two old folks?” she asked.

“Information,” Hiral said simply. He then leaned in so his voice wouldn’t carry beyond the three he sat with. “I’m hoping you can tell me a bit about the towers you’re going to build. The ones to keep the trapped Fallen asleep.”

Everybody at the table froze—aside from Hiral, of course. Korkin’s eyes widened in shock at the mention of the Fallen, while Yummi and Fulerik’s narrowed at the fact Hiral knew about what they were building.

Fulerik looked around quickly to make sure nobody was listening. “How do you know about that?” he hissed.

“Part of the information we were given when we got this mission to protect the islands,” Hiral improvised. Telling them he was from the future was a recipe for disaster. Or, more likely, the PIMP would just make them ignore the statement, and it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

“And why do you want to know more?” Yummi asked, suspicion practically leaking out of her mouth.

“Because, like I just said, my mission is to protect these islands. If something were to happen with… the towers”—this time around, he omitted mentioning the Fallen—“my party and I would need to figure out how to fix the problem. To do that, we need to know more about what we’re dealing with.”

The two old workers shared a look, but neither of them volunteered any information.

“Sander and I both vouch for him,” Korkin said. “Hiral here is good people. And he could drop a building on you if he felt like it.”

“Did you need to add that last part?” Hiral asked out of the side of his mouth.

“Thought it important they understand.”

“Each of us could drop a building on him too,” Yummi pointed out.

“Let me clarify,” Korkin said in his usual even tone. “Hiral could rip the building out of the ground, toss it into the sky, and drop it on your head with enough force to take out the whole city block.”

Yummi opened her mouth once, closed it, then opened it again. “Could you really?”

“Wouldn’t be my first choice,” Hiral started.

“His first choice is the sword,” Korkin said.

“Words!” Hiral said. “Words are my first choice! I’d rather just talk about things.”

“Really?” Fulerik said to Korkin. “Not the part about the building. You vouch for him?”

“Sander and me both,” Korkin said.

“Don’t care about that loudmouth,” Yummi said. “The doc did speak pretty highly of Mr. Footnote too,” she added, looking at her partner.

“You really took down an Infested?” Fulerik asked again.

“My party and I did, yes,” Hiral said.

The two older folks shared another look, and then Fulerik seemed to come to some kind of decision.

“We can’t tell you anything about the… about you-know-who,” he said. “But you can bet your ass they’re stronger than some random Infested.”

“Which is why I need to know more about the tower. How it’s built. How it’s holding them. And if there’s anything we can do if they wake up again.”

“Run,” Yummi said. “That’s what you can do.”

Hiral shook his head. “I wish that was a choice. My friends and I, though… If it comes to it, we have to stop you-know-who. Building this city is your contribution to our future. For us? It’s protecting the city you built. And the people in it. So, please, what can you tell me about the towers?”

Fulerik scratched at his head, but Yummi pulled out a thick drawing pad and a pencil. Confident, bold strokes quickly outlined the towers Hiral remembered from his Fallen Reach, and the sketch took shape in mere seconds. A tap, tap, tap on the paper, and she looked right at him.

“Listen well, and try to keep up,” she said. “I’m only going to explain this once.”