SEVENTEEN

  Reaching the guild chapter house in the emptiness of early morning didn't take long. Unfortunately, they weren't ready for him. A locked gate stood in the way. Banging and cursing produced little in the way of results, so yelling followed. Then Vidar yelled louder. He kicked the door, then regretted it as pain shot up his foot and leg. As he felt around with his toe, trying to decide if it was broken or merely bruised, the rusted lock clicked open.

  A guard poked his head out, and Vidar held up the note. "I've been summoned."

  "Yes, yes," the guard said. He was a stocky man about twice Vidar's age who, for some reason, didn't have eyebrows.

  Together, they walked through the dark, empty hallways. The guild didn't bother with keeping kenaz runes active during the night, even at a low effect. The silence was almost eerie, but the guard didn't seem bothered in the least. This was perhaps his natural habitat, stalking the rooms and passages like some creature of the night, never having to meet anyone. Not a bad profession, Vidar thought. Perhaps in another life, it might've been something he could've enjoyed. But no, he decided. Too monotonous.

  The guard opened a door, and light filled the corridor. A sniffling sound reached him from inside, and Vidar knew who it belonged to. He hurried inside.

  "Siv! What's wrong?"

  She sat on a plush sofa with a handkerchief pressed to her red, blotchy face. Even as she saw him enter, tears streamed down her face, and her breathing came in ragged and heaving, desperate. Opposite her, on a chair, sat the admissions woman. Her name escaped him.

  Before he even had the chance to sit next to her, Siv threw herself at him and wrapped her skinny, pale arms around his midsection. Unsure what to do, he embraced her shoulders and sat them both down.

  "What happened?" He glared at the other woman. "If you did something to her, I swear you'll regret it."

  "Protecting your friends is an admirable trait, but this is not regarding young Siv here."

  "What then?"

  The admissions woman looked away and up, blinking and patting her face with a handkerchief of her own. When she'd composed herself, she said a single word. "Sven."

  Vidar looked around for the young man and frowned. "What about him? Where is he?"

  "I must inform you that Sven is no longer with us. He passed away during the night, only a few hours ago."

  A horrible, wordless wail escaped Siv's throat. She looked up into Vidar's face, tears streaming down her face. It didn't feel real, the situation. It was like a dream.

  "W-what?" Vidar asked. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and the beseeching look on Siv's face sent a wave of annoyance through him. It was like she expected something from him, but he couldn't tell what. He quashed the thought and took a deep breath. "What happened? What did you do?"

  The accusation pulled the admissions woman back from her emotional state, and she straightened her back, schooling her expression back to the blank, official look he'd seen before. "The guild holds no responsibility for your friend’s passing. It is a rare event, but this is not the first time this has happened, unfortunately."

  Siv's breathing steadied somewhat, and she sat up, withdrawing from their embrace.

  "Tell me what happened," Vidar said.

  "Young Sven did not take our warnings to heart and practiced rune craft without proper instruction and precaution."

  "And?" Vidar asked. Practice was good. It was how you got better.

  The admissions woman clasped her hands together in her lap, and her voice softened somewhat. "And I'm afraid he lost control while attempting to rejuvenate a sowilo rune. Essence drained out of him, and he could not rein himself in. This resulted in a lack of essence in Sven's body. His heart gave out. From what we can tell, it was quick."

  Dead from failing to rejuvenate a rune. Inconceivable.

  "I don't understand," Vidar said. "He rejuvenated a rune?"

  The admissions lady nodded. "With every speck of essence in his body."

  Vidar clenched his fists and felt his lip pull up in a silent snarl. "How could you let this happen?!"

  "Accusations will not bring your friend back, Vidar."

  "Where is Viktoria? Where is the guildmistress? There is much to answer for here!"

  The woman across from him took in a deep breath, as if centering herself. "The guildmistress is asleep. She will address the student body this morning and re-iterate the importance of following the rules set forward to the students. These sorts of events are the reason we have the rules. What happened here tonight is the fault of Sven, and Sven alone."

  Vidar let out a brief, high laugh that sounded a little too similar to a groan. It hurt even his own ears, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "Sven's fault? How was he even able to practice by himself? How can you die from rejuvenating a rune?"

  He felt something in his hand and looked down to see Siv taking it in hers. It was warm. She squeezed.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "You know as well as anyone that all you need is a stick of chalk," the admissions woman said. "Or even some soot, in a pinch. The guild cannot keep constant vigilance over the entire student body. As to how it’s possible to pass away from the act of rejuvenating a rune. The answer to that is: easily." She shook her head and wiped at the corner of her eye before continuing. "Rune craft is inherently dangerous to the rune scribe. A brief lapse of concentration is all it takes for the process to fail. This is why we provide rigorous training to all students and extensive testing before allowing a student to graduate to full membership."

  "But-"

  "I'm aware of your unconventional path to learning, but I'm sure you have been told again and again of the dangers inherent in what we do here. Now you see the unfortunate result of those warnings not being heeded."

  Silence fell in the room. Vidar didn't know what to say. He wanted to blame them, wanted to shout. Sven was dead, and that was it. There was nothing to be done. Nothing he could do. If anything, it was his fault for teaching the lad and having him join the guild's academy. His eyes were stinging now. Tiredness. That was it. Vidar wiped at them with the sleeve of his coat, the weight in his stomach growing heavier. The ill feeling that kept him from sleeping. A premotion. No, that wasn't it. That was something else, not this. Not Sven's death.

  "Can I see him?" Vidar asked.

  "I am not certain that is a good idea."

  "I want to see him."

  Vidar wasn't even sure why. Seeing Sven wouldn't change anything. If anything, it would make it worse. Still, he felt like he owed it to the boy. It was the least he could do.

  A timid knock sounded on the door, and after the admissions lady called out, the door opened to show the two white faces of girls around Siv's age. Their eyes were ringed with red, and they blinked against the light of the room.

  "Um, Sorry. We wanted to come fetch Siv to make sure she was well," one of them said.

  Vidar turned to look at Siv. "You've made friends."

  A quick nod confirmed it.

  "You should go with them," Vidar said. "Try to get some sleep."

  She looked up at him again, and he could see in her eyes she wanted to stay.

  "Just be careful, yes? Do as they say and don't rush things."

  Siv nodded and gave him another hug, then stood, curtsied to the older woman, and left with her new friends.

  Vidar still looked at the closed door when the admissions woman spoke again, her voice soft. "Siv is fitting in here. She's doing well for herself. It would be a disservice to take her away."

  "I'm not taking her away. This is the best place for her," Vidar said.

  "You have knowledge the guild wants."

  Vidar straightened and turned to face her, speaking with calm words despite rage simmering just beneath the surface. "That has nothing to do with her."

  "On that," she said. "We agree."

  "What then?"

  "I just thought you should know. Some want to leverage her against you. So far, I have been able to step in."

  Vidar scratched the side of his face, the anger leaving him. "Thank you?"

  "I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for her. Siv is your friend, but she should not suffer due to your actions, or lack thereof."

  "Agreed."

  She gave a curt nod, then stood. "Well then. I'll take you to Sven. Then I must prepare."

  "Prepare for what?"

  "Upon death, students are elevated to a position that allows the guild to spend the funds to see their remains taken care of in a proper way."

  "A funeral?"

  "That's right. The guild has a plot of land for graves, so we will find him a spot. Unless you wish to take the remains with you and make your own arrangements? As far as I know, Sven had no next of kin. No family."

  Vidar didn't know. He didn’t know the lad, truth be told. Perhaps Erik knew something. "No," he said. "A funeral with the guild will be the best option. Just let me know when."

  "Of course," she said, gliding across the room to the door. "Now, this way, if you please."

  A dim, gentle light shone from a kenaz rune Vidar hadn't noticed worked into a necklace his guide wore. Other than the two of them, the hallways were empty and silent. Their footfalls echoed, and it was as if the darkness pushing in against the dim light wanted to suppress it, to envelop the two lone souls up and about. The feeling only intensified as the lady brought them before a door leading down through a spiral staircase. It was not the same one he'd found when looking for Alvarn. This one was narrow and steep without many exits at all.

  Round and round they went, heading deeper into the earth. When they made it to the bottom, he'd lost count of the number of circles they'd descended. It was deeper than the sewers. That much he knew.

  Despite the inhospitable stairs and depth, it was not a dank cellar, Vidar found. Kenaz runes in the ceiling kept the wide, carpeted corridor lit with a pleasant glow. Chairs at regular intervals lined the path ahead, and small, nondescript rooms appeared now and then as they walked.

  "These are shelters."

  Her voice made him jump after such a long period of quiet, and he hurried his steps so they walked in step. "Shelter?"

  "As I'm sure you know, we recently had cause to use them. There is plenty of dried food and water stored down here, along with beds for everyone."

  "Like you're expecting disaster," Vidar said.

  "Disaster is always coming. It's only a matter of when."

  "That's dark."

  "Prudent," the admissions lady said. "The morgue is down here as well, a little farther down this corridor."

  "And Sven," Vidar said.

  She nodded.

  At the far end of the corridor, they arrived at a closed door. This one was metal and protected by a sturdy padlock. A slot near eye level allowed them to look into the room beyond. Complete darkness.

  "It has also been used as cells."

  Vidar raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

  A loud thunk sounded when the lock opened and the hinges' screech broke the silence, loud enough to make them both wince.

  "Sven is just inside, to the right."

  Inside this new corridor, she walked a few steps and opened a door, but did not enter.

  "You're not coming in?" Vidar asked.

  "No. You can't miss him. Please don't disturb the izas runes. They're needed to preserve the remains until burial.

  As she said it, cold came rolling out of the room. Vidar shuddered but pressed on after bringing out a kenaz rune to light the way. Using the one on his forehead didn't seem prudent with someone from the rune scribes' guild watching over him. The room was small, bare, and cold. Four raised slabs in the middle served as tables. Upon one of them, a form rested. Since the other three were empty, this had to be Sven, but a white cloth with small blue flowers embroidered around the edges covered the slight form.

  Vidar inched forward and around the slabs to approach what he guessed was the head before reaching out with trembling hands to withdraw the cloth.

  "No," a small, unintended groan rose out of him when he saw Sven. Images of Torbjorn drained of essence jumped out at him, but this was worse. So much worse. Last he'd seen this sort of thing, it'd been in the heat of battle, sort of, and Vidar had been half-delirious with pain. Now, in the cold and quiet darkness, seeing Sven's face pulled back almost to the point of looking like a thin hide stretched over a skull was more than he could stand. The boy looked like an old man, sleeping in peace. Except his chest didn't rise and fall. All was still. Sven was dead.