The whole plan rested on Ida’s shoulders. Without her little gang of thieves, none of the following steps would be possible. They were responsible for breaking into the keep and stealing arrows. Without access to a weaponsmith or fletcher of their own, and with no more spikes to harvest from the dragon’s skeleton, Vidar had no way of making new ones. Sure, teeth might’ve worked, but not as well, since they were bent. Even with materials, the problem of time was a painful one. The dragon could return at any point, and no matter how much he looked, hoping to learn more of the next attack, Vidar found no trace of Lytir anywhere.

  A break-in was the next logical solution. Surprisingly, Ida agreed. It was, after all, her long-time dream to rob the keep and its ruler, even if he was just a steward and not a prince. The price of her aid, however, was painful. Vidar parted with one of the gold coins under loud protest, but part with one he did.

  With that first, crucial part of the plan underway, Vidar walked up the steps to the rune scribes’ guild chapter house, proclaiming loudly, “I wish to see Guild Mistress Viktoria!”

  Guards apprehended him but did not throw him back out into the snow. Instead, he was brought to a sitting room where they forced him to wait for almost a full hour before the woman deigned to grace him with her presence. At least the sofa cushions were soft.

  “You no longer hold anything of value to us,” Viktoria said immediately, waving her secretary away. “It’s best if you stay away, or we’ll be forced to take appropriate action, pardon or no.”

  “You mean the algiz rune? Yeah, I know you’ve got that one,” Vidar said. “Your members can use the algiz rune for all you’re worth, protecting the ballistae and whatnot, but I’ve got something better.”

  “Sure you do,” she said, obviously not believing him. A shadow fell over her face and Vidar caught it before Viktoria schooled her expression. Quite a hot-tempered one, despite her attempts at a cool exterior.

  “What did I say?”

  She sat opposite him, in a chair, with a thud and a sigh. “They are not my rune scribes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Viktoria narrowed her eyes and regarded him for a moment, then closed them and rubbed her temples, like she’d gotten a headache just from looking at him.

  “The Runic Council, that’s the overseer chapter in Stalheim, thought I’d mishandled the situation with the steward and with you, Vidar. Their agents here were the ones to acquire the algiz rune first, and the other guild chapters are now required to pay part of our revenue from the new rune directly to them.”

  Vidar couldn’t help but laugh. “A part of the cut, huh? Just like I wanted!”

  “The irony is not lost on me,” she said, leaning back and abandoning her usually careful posture.

  “This blasted dragon has eaten through our profits as well, and several members are voicing concern about my leadership. I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. It’s your air of harmlessness, I suppose.”

  “So you’re in a tough position?”

  Something in his question put her on edge, and she sat back up, the stiffness returning. “The guild is doing well, thank you very much. If that is all, congratulations on your pardon, but I’d like to not have to see you at this time.”

  “I have another rune.”

  Pausing for a moment, eyes glittering, Viktoria then leaned forward. “You were serious?”

  Vidar had prepared a stakra rune on a piece of paper, so that he could demonstrate. If they tried grabbing it, he’d just eat the damn thing. He held the paper away from her and made sure the runic symbol wasn’t visible through the paper, then triggered it, keeping his arm straight and his shoulder steady. Still, the force pushed him back a step.

  A desk slammed into the wall behind it, bouncing back to crash to the floor. Papers flew through the air and then drifted down in what looked like a graceful, carefully choreographed dance.

  Once empty, Vidar ripped the rune into little pieces and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I only brought the one.”

  Viktoria gaped for a moment, watching the papers land all over the floor. When she spoke, it was with carefully controlled excitement. “My secretary will not be pleased with the mess you’ve made of her study.”

  “Thought it was yours,” Vidar said, a vicious grin on his face.

  “You’ve come here to show me this, Vidar. That means you’re looking to trade. Is it gold that you want?” It looked like her mind was racing with possible applications for the stakra rune. Good, that was what he wanted.

  “Gold is always nice, but that is not what I’m primarily after.”

  Viktoria waited for him to make his demands.

  “Is Alvarn here? Is he safe?”

  She blinked, surprised. “He returned on his own and is still a registered student here. We would never do harm to one of our students. Currently, Alvarn is under strict curfew and may not leave the building.”

  “That is well. We’re going to need his help.”

  Viktoria pursed her lips. “With what, Vidar?”

  “I’ll need that writ as well.”

  “And a share of the profits, I suppose?”

  He shook his head. “No. Those you can keep. Just the writ.”

  “No.”

  “No? Just like that?”

  “We are already on notice with the Runic Council.”

  “And you don’t think bringing this new rune to them will soothe any bad blood between you?”

  She showed a weak smile. “Perhaps. May I offer a compromise?”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “While I cannot offer you a guild’s writ as a full rune scribe, I am able to provide a spot here as a student.”

  “A student?”

  “That’s right. If that dragon burns all of Halmstadt to the ground, it won’t be worth much, but it is all I have to offer. Show your proficiency and you won’t have to do the full, comprehensive three years.”

  Vidar considered the offer for a moment, then nodded. “Agreed, on one condition.”

  “What?” she sighed.

  “More spots. I want five of them.”

  “Five? There are more rats out there breaking the law?”

  He ignored the question. “Five.”

  She reached out a hand. “It is agreed.”

  “Agreed,” he said, taking her hand.

  This was a decent enough development. While not an outright writ, he could just display his skill and graduate properly. No one would be able to question him then. Perhaps this was better, even, and with four more spots, Siv and Sven would be able to take part as well. The additional two spots were for when they expanded their operation in the future. Not a bad deal, not bad at all.

  “So, with that done. What would you have the rune scribes’ guild do? You mentioned Alvarn helping.”

  “It has to do with the new rune,” Vidar explained. “Together, we’re going to use it to kill the dragon.”

  The different pieces of the puzzle were coming together nicely. Alvarn agreed to help and even supervise other full rune scribes in creating the necessary platforms, after Vidar apologized and offered to be the one paying for drinks for a full night of celebration after they were done. Hearing Vidar and the others would be joining him as students seemed to cheer him up as well.

  While waiting for Ida and Alvarn, Vidar and his group found a proper room to rent and got to work crafting runes of all shapes and sizes. With Siv now managing the whole crafting process herself, their progress was quick, and by the third day, Sven even managed to trigger one. Erik, still refusing to learn, worked himself to the bone in making the wooden pieces necessary, creating grooves to match the lines and drilling holes to allow for leather straps.

  Slowly but surely, Vidar learned a little more of Siv’s strange finger language, which allowed some rudimentary conversation. When they encountered gaps, Siv wrote her short simple words on slips of paper.

  That night, Ida slammed the door open, panting, her face a mix of sweat, dirt, and a little blood.

  “We did it!” she shouted, grinning madly.

  “You have them?” Vidar asked, hope rising.

  She held up two fingers. “Two!”

  “Two?” he asked. “Only two?”

  “You dumb little asshole, what sort of job do you think you sent us on? We raided the damn keep and stole from the steward himself! You’re lucky we got two, I tell ya. It was hairy for a while there. They kept the arrows in different locations. All we could reach were two.”

  Vidar held up a hand. “Two is still not enough from that distance. What if you miss?”

  Siv’s eyes widened and Ida glared like he’d just uttered some terrible curse.

  “Miss? I don’t miss!”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Siv signed, “Never miss.”

  “But this isn’t a rat you’ll be shooting at!”

  Ida cracked her knuckles and then stepped forward and mimicked, like she was aiming a bow at Vidar’s face. “No. Rats are smaller and faster. This’ll be a piece of cake. Trust me.”

  “I do, but…”

  She shook her head. “No buts. I’ve got to go see about my girls and get that shiny gold exchanged for silver so it’s actually useful.” She turned and waved over her shoulder as she hurried off. “I’ll bring the arrows over first thing tomorrow so you can do your witchy things to them.”

  “Alvarn finished?” Siv signed, the expression on her face turning the words into a question.

  “Soon,” Vidar confirmed. “He said they need more testing to get the balance right.”

  A guttural shriek sounded. It was far away, but still loud enough for them all to hear through the walls.

  “It’s back,” Vidar breathed, his body freezing up. “It’s too soon. We’re not ready.”

  Erik became a flurry of movement as he strapped algiz rune after algiz rune to his arms, legs, and even chest and back. “We’re ready! Let’s go!”

  Siv gave him a determined look and made a simple sign. “Ready.”

  Running steps sounded and then Ida was back at the door. “Didn’t think it’d be so soon! We’re going?”

  Vidar stood then, finally taking action. “We’re going! You hurry ahead and get into position. Bring these three and prepare. I’ll get the scribes! We’ll have to finish the arrows when we’re in position!”

  Siv and Erik exchanged a look, and she got up to squeeze his hand. Then the four rats were off, hauling the equipment they’d need. Vidar stayed behind a brief moment, collecting runes, strapping them on himself like Erik or stuffing his pockets. The styrka rune in the palm of his hand was brimming with essence, ready to be used. Unprepared as they were, this was their time to shine.

  It was time to kill a dragon.

  With sowilo runes for warmth hidden about his body, and one tucked deep inside each shoe, carved into supple leather, Vidar made it out into the cold winter afternoon. The sun was setting already, but it was bright enough to see the dragon approaching. This time, it was coming from the west, flying over the sea.

  It was even faster than last time, flapping its wings with power and determination, like it meant to destroy them all this time. Vidar forced himself to move. This was no time to stand frozen and quaking from fear like those who’d stopped out on the streets all around him.

  Men, women, and children wailed and cried out in terror, fully demoralized from the repeated assaults from this beast out of religious myth. The dragons were supposed to be dead, all of them banished from this plane by the fallen angels.

  Vidar had seen a dead dragon. This day, he would see another.

  With the crowds outside to watch as the dragon soared through the sky, getting to the rune scribes’ guild chapter house quickly was a challenge, but when he finally arrived, they were ready for him. Alvarn waited on the steps.

  “It’s not done!”

  Vidar panted, stopping to lean over and catch his breath. “It’ll have to be!”

  “What if the essence runes out too fast?”

  “We’ll power them together if need be.”

  Alvarn swallowed hard but nodded.

  “The others are already on the way. Join them and prepare.”

  “What about you?”

  Vidar ran off, shouting behind him. “I’ve got one more stop on the way!”

  His father’s house wasn’t far, but being completely wrapped up in preparation for the next attack, he hadn’t found the time to go rejuvenate the algiz rune on the roof. His father could burn for all Vidar cared, but if this all ended with his siblings and mother as charred corpses, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

  Kenaz runes shone inside the windows of the house before it was even dark out. From the voices, the whole family was in there. This time, Vidar didn’t have the time to climb carefully and without making any sound. Instead, he clambered up, hoping they were too preoccupied to notice anything other than the beating of the dragon’s giant wings overhead.

  Just as Vidar made it to the roof, the dragon released a fiery attack near the center of the city, around the area where the church was located. Vidar hoped people hadn’t been outside that massive stone building in the hopes of finding refuge again. Screams of terror rose anew from all around, and Vidar heard someone crying inside the house. Muffled as the sound was, he thought it might be his mother.

  Snow covered the roof again, and he had to spend time he didn’t have finding where he’d placed the damn rune in the first place. Surprisingly enough, the lines of the runic symbol were fine, without much wear and tear at all. Vidar bent down and rejuvenated the algiz rune, feeling the essence stream from his fingers, hand, arm, then shoulder before the rune teemed with enough to almost burst. Only then did he reach for the styrka rune with his mind.

  Vidar’s head exploded with pain. He thudded to the cold stone roof and darkness crept in around the corners of his vision. Getting his hands under him to begin pushing himself to his feet was a monumental struggle, and he made it less than halfway before another blow landed over the side of his face and ear, putting him back on the ground with a groan.

  Next time, he’d put algiz runes on a helmet as well. It was his last thought before blacking out.

  Vidar woke to a most familiar smell. Shit. His head was woozy, and for a brief moment he saw double. It made him nauseous enough that he had to steady his breathing to push away the intense need to empty his stomach all over himself and the chair he was tied to.

  “He’s waking up,” a voice said, one Vidar didn’t recognize.

  A second, deeper voice answered, “Good.”

  One of them slapped him across the face, which strangely enough focused his vision. Vidar blinked up at a gangly man with blond hair and a mustache but no beard, an uncommon style, and one that did not flatter this person’s tiny nose and beady eyes.

  “You really thought we would not find you, Vidar?” the blond man asked.

  “Who are you?” Vidar asked. “Why are we down here?”

  The second man was clean shaven and pear-shaped, like he enjoyed food and beer a little too much. A swollen red nose confirmed that hypothesis and the splotchy skin only added to the unhealthy air around him.

  “Who are we?” this second man asked, asking the mustachioed man like he was really asking.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s who we work for who matters. And what he wants. We’re down here because we found you’ve been using these lovely tunnels, keeping them all to yourself. Also, this stream of shit going right by us is as good a place as any to dump your body if you misbehave.”

  Vidar eyed the gray water and offal going past at a steady pace before turning back. “You work for that man who took over after Yallander?”

  “See, I told you he’s not a complete moron,” Mustache told Red Nose. “Yes, we work for Tyv. But no, he’s not Yallander’s replacement. He’s Yallander’s superior. Unfortunately for you, he has need of you.”

  “How did you get down here?” Vidar asked, not really caring about thieves’ guild politics. “I have places to be, you know.”

  “HOW ABOUT I SLIT YOUR THROAT RIGHT HERE?” Red Nose shouted, getting close enough to push the chair Vidar was sitting in so it fell backwards to the ground, slamming the back of Vidar’s head against the stony walkway.

  Mustache pulled his friend back and then walked over to lift Vidar and the chair. “Procuring a key to this wondrous place was no trouble at all. There are plenty, if you know where to look.”

  Vidar did not like that. Not one bit. Sharing his kingdom down here was not something he found acceptable. The kenaz rune on his forehead had been removed at some point, and when he quested inward with his mind, he found all other runes touching his skin gone as well. Only a pair remained to him, along with the styrka rune in his hand. Losing the runes he carried was an all-too-common occurrence, one he’d have to find a solution to if, when, he got out of this bind.

  “Are we waiting for someone, or are you two supposed to deliver a message to me?” Vidar asked, feeling strangely calm about this whole situation. With a dragon to fight and kill, this was nothing in comparison. “Since I am not dead, I’m guessing you want something from me.”

  “We’re your only friends down here,” Mustache said.

  “No one is coming!” Red Nose added with a bark.

  “So? What do you want? I don’t have all day.”

  “That mouth of yours lands you into trouble quite a bit, I’m guessing, judging by the state of your face,” Mustache said. “But you are right, of course. No one wants to drag this out more than necessary.”

  Red Nose stepped forward, pushing past Mustache on the narrow walkway, almost putting the taller man off balance. “We’re going to punish you!”

  “Easy now, friend,” Mustache said. “You don’t want me falling into that river of sewage, do you?”

  “Keep talking down to me and I’ll throw you in there on purpose!”

  “You should be nicer to each other,” Vidar said, needling at the small rift between the two.

  “Shut up!” both of them said in unison before turning back to face each other.

  “I am your superior, don’t forget,” Mustache said.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t smash you to pulp!”

  Vidar moved his wrists back and forth, hoping the knots would give a little. The rope cut into his skin painfully, but he didn’t show it on his face. Teasing Red Nose was far simpler than he’d thought, and he added, “You deserve respect!” while finally pulling one hand free.

  Just as he did, Red Nose pushed Mustache against the wall with a growl before turning to Vidar. He pointed. “Shut yer trap, you little pissant, or I’ll heave you into the shit like you deserve!”

  Looking in Vidar’s direction, he didn’t see Mustache pulling something from behind his back, a sneer on his face.

  “Enough of this,” he said, plunging a thin blade into the side of Red Nose’s neck.

  Red Nose’s eyes grew wide in surprise, and he touched the wound before looking down at his hand, now covered in red. Blood gushed out of the hole, but Mustache’s face was unconcerned when he put his back against the wall, lifted his foot to place it on Red Nose’s gut, and kicked.

  Red Nose went down into the river of sewage without the look of surprise ever leaving his face. He fell without making a sound and was swiftly carried away and out of sight.

  Life was a fragile thing in the company of thieves, from what he’d just seen. Vidar’s first thought, however horrified he was, was of the blockage the corpse would create somewhere down the line.

  “Finally, some peace and quiet,” Mustache said, taking a deep breath with his head tilted back to rest against the wall, looking up at the low ceiling. “Endless jabber. Always talking.”

  With the long, thin knife covered in blood still in his hand, Mustache shifted his head to look at the increasingly worried Vidar. His eyes looked like two dark marbles. No emotion behind them, no sense of right and wrong. “And now there’s just the two of us.”

  “You said your boss wanted something of me. To teach rune craft, perhaps? Those students of mine must be eager to learn, no?”

  Mustache made a face, like he’d tasted a piece of fruit not yet ripened. “The boss has grand ideas but perhaps you struggled too much? Maybe you fell into the water? Trouble, trouble. More trouble than you’re worth. Enough of this.”

  He stepped toward Vidar, fingering the knife.

  Vidar pulled desperately at his still-tethered hand and kicked with his unbound feet, almost toppling the chair. “I’ll teach, don’t worry. You won’t have any trouble from me!”

  Mustache shook his head sadly as he drew closer, but none of that emotion reached his eyes. Then, the thief lunged.

  Vidar reached down to the bottom of his shoe with his one free hand, triggering the stakra rune carved into the bottom as he leaned back in the chair. The force propelled him backwards with a yell and the chair fell, again slamming the back of his head into the stone floor. Pain surged in the hand still strapped to the chair. It surged all the way up to his shoulder as it got stuck between his own weight in the chair and the ground. Something finally gave and Vidar threw his weight to the side, unpinning himself. He kicked desperately to get off his back and onto his hands and feet, thinking a blade was about to plunge into his face.

  He quickly turned, not wanting Mustache at his back. The thief was on the floor, crawling toward Vidar with a snarl on his face. Blood covered his teeth and his face was white. Between the two of them, where Mustache stood a moment earlier, was a severed leg oozing blood and the thin knife he’d been wielding.

  Vidar shuffled forward with a groan of his own, throwing himself at the knife to reach it first, just as his opponent was about to wrap his fingers around it.

  “Didn’t think to check my boots, did you, scum?” Vidar spat, pulling the weapon out of Mustache’s reach.

  His first instinct was to drive it into the thief’s outstretched hand, but he held back.

  Vidar stood before the downed thief, panting hard from the exertion. “Where are my runes?”

  Mustache looked up at him, still no hint of emotion in his eyes. “Just kill me and be done with it.”

  “No.”

  Vidar walked up beside the thief and searched his pockets, finding what he was after. Kenaz, sowilo, stakra, algiz. They were all there.

  Mustache didn’t fight the search, didn’t even say a word.

  “There. Now you have them. Plunge that point into my neck so I can be free of all this trouble.”

  “I’m not a killer.”

  “You are,” Mustache said, reaching up with a trembling hand. “Give me the knife, then. I’ll do it myself.”

  “No.”

  Mustache sighed, then wrinkled his nose at the smell of the sewage before rolling over and down into it. He, too, disappeared without a sound.

  Vidar reached after him but let his hand fall. So pointless. He affixed a kenaz rune to his forehead, wincing at the pain of his swollen face and throbbing head. Searching his pockets again, he realized something else was missing. His coins. Those bastards had drowned in a river of shit, taking Vidar’s coins with them!

  “Bastards!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the darkness, but his heart wasn’t in it. At least his own key down to the underground was still with him. More important things than coin were underfoot. The dragon. How much had he missed?

  A light at the far end of the tunnel showed where they’d entered, and Vidar climbed to the surface in a hurry, emerging way back in Andersburg.

  He groaned at the distance he’d need to cover, but set off running. Shrieks from the dragon rang out over the city of Halmstadt, making the people he passed whimper and cry in fear. The keep was under attack. Vidar’s chest was heavy with fear as well, but his fear was different.

  The battle had already begun without him. Were his friends in position? Had they managed without him? Running toward the dragon, he thought of Erik and Sven protecting the others, of Siv and Alvarn working the runes, and of Ida readying her shot.

  Vidar ran for all he was worth.