Runeguard 034

A few minutes later, I was back in the tavern.

But for myself, the common room was starkly empty, and with the Paragons gone, I expected it to be that way until I too left. 

I wonder how their dungeon dive went, I mused. Despite the poor terms on which the Paragons and I had parted, I didn’t wish any of them ill. I snorted. Even Gavin. 

 I strode through the empty first floor, up the stairs and into my room. The moment our privacy was assured, Night streamed out of my body and took form.

I glanced up at the dragon-shaped cloud, about as large as a dog this time. “Does it bother you to be cooped up inside me all the time?” I asked.

“Not usually,” Night said. “But sometimes I miss soaring through the sky.” She exhaled heavily. “I tell you Dace, there is nothing so liberating as flying through the pitch-black void of a night sky and being surrounded only by the nothingness of space.”

I nodded. While I didn’t share Night’s own experiences with flying, I understood the sentiment behind her words. No matter how willingly she had bound herself to me, losing her freedom and autonomy had to chafe.

I studied her ethereal shape anew. It was more exacting than before. This time, her form was a near replica of the black dragon she had been—and detailed enough to make out the sharpened tips at the end of her wings and her feet’s sharpened claws. “Can you take any shape you want, Night?”

“No,” she replied, whizzing around the room and leaving small wisps of cloud trailing behind her. “Although I seem able to blur my true form as much as I wish or condense the mists of my being to my present size.” 

I let the black dragon enjoy her momentary freedom and sat down cross-legged on the floor. Time to try my hand at Rune scribing again, I thought as I retrieved my writing implements and the only magic scroll I still had from my inventory. 

Spreading the papers across the floor, I laid the minor mass bless scroll beside them. Cupping my head in my hands, I reviewed my previous work. 

Many of the loose sheets were filled with lines and markings, but no matter how much I tried to make sense of them, my scratchings looked like nothing more than chicken scrawl. 

I sighed. Was I wasting my time? Should I persist down this path? 

Night alighted on my shoulder. From this close, I could see that small tendrils of smoke constantly streamed out of her form.

The spirit tilted her head to the side as she studied my scribbles. “What is that?”

“Runes,” I answered and allowed myself a wry smile. “Or at least my half-assed attempt at scribing them.”

“Ah,” she said. “You are one of those.”

“Oh?” I asked curiously. “One of what?” 

“A Rune scholar,” she said—somewhat disdainfully, I thought. “That’s what the silvers fancy themselves to be, too,” Night went on. “They and their ilk have been trying since forever to unravel the secret of the Runes. For myself, I think it is a waste of time.”

I raised my head and turned to stare at my companion. “Night, are you saying there are others who have attempted deciphering the Runes?”

The black dragon yawned, her small jaws gaping wide, and in the process, missing my question entirely. “Hmm? What?” she asked when she caught my questioning look.

Patiently, I repeated the question.

 “Oh yes,” Night said. “Rune ‘scholars’ have existed for as long as the Proving Grounds have, and foremost amongst them—by self-proclamation, mind you—are the silvers. Though if you ask me, they are no experts.” 

She snorted. “None of the so-called Rune scholars deserve that epithet. Despite their many attempts over the centuries, the silvers have repeatedly failed to replicate the Creators’ work.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of the black dragon’s answer. “Who are the ‘silvers’?” I asked eventually.

“Fat lazy lizards,” Night replied with a contemptuous sniff.

I waited for her to go on, but when she didn’t, I said, “That doesn’t tell me much, you know.”

Night straightened and lifted her head up high to stare down at me. “That’s about all you need to know of them,” she said.

I looked at her reproachfully.

Finally, Night relented. “The silvers are the silver dragons,” she answered. “Their Clan and ours have been at odds for decades.”

Ah, I thought, that explains the animosity. “And what Essence do the silver dragons embody?”

Night snorted. “Order, of course.” She eyed me sideways. “You are not thinking of approaching them, are you? Because with me as your companion, there is little chance of them looking kindly upon you.”

I shrugged. It was exactly what I had been thinking of doing. It didn’t seem likely that I was going to be able to crack the secret of the Runes on my own, but with help… I just might.

I banished the idea. Right now, it was neither here nor there, and only a minor consideration for the future—the very distant future. 

“And what about you, Night?” I asked refocusing on the dragon on my shoulder. “What do you know of the Runes?”

“Nothing,” she admitted. “No black dragon does. Our elders have long held the view that the Runes are too closely aligned with order.” She paused. “It is why the silvers study them so much. They believe they are the only ones fit to understand the Creators’ language.” 

I pursed my lips. What Night said made a certain amount of sense. What were words after all, but order imposed on thoughts? If there was an Essence of order, it seemed logical that Rune scribing would go hand in hand with it. 

“Will you at least help me in my own experiments?” I asked.

Night shifted from one clawed foot to the other, making evident her reluctance. “What is it you need me to do?” she asked.

“Only to observe and commit the Runes to memory,” I assured her, before going on to explain what Adi and I had done two nights ago. “Are you willing to do that much?”

Night bobbed her head. “Very well.”

“Thank you, Night,” I said gravely and turned to my other companion. “Adi, are you ready?”

“I am, Dace,” she said.

I exhaled a careful breath and stilled my mind. “Then, let’s get to it,” I said, unfurling the minor mass bless scroll.

✵ ✵ ✵

One after the other, the words of the spell rolled off my tongue. As on the previous occasions I had invoked a scroll’s magic, I somehow vocalized the Runes, even while their meaning remained opaque to me.

When I was done, I turned to my companions. “Well?” I asked. “Can you both still picture the shape of the first Rune?”

“I can, Dace,” Adi said, “though like the last time, I expect I will not retain the memory for long.”

I nodded. “What about you, Night?”

The black dragon looked thoughtful. “That was… interesting,” she said.

I looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen any of the Creators’ much-vaunted Runes before,” Night said. “We black dragons don’t learn our magic through them. But…” She fell silent.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“But,” she went on, “parts of the Runes called to me. It was almost as if there was an element of chaos to them.”

I frowned. “You’re sure?”

Night nodded. “As sure as I can be. It seems,” she mused, “the elders were wrong. The Runes are not only of order.”

I bowed my head, pondering the implications of Night’s information for a moment, but could infer little of value from it. 

I didn’t know enough about the Runes yet, I decided. 

Nonetheless, the little tidbit Night had shared was interesting, and I stowed it away in the recesses of my mind for later consideration.

“Do you remember the first Rune, Night?” I asked again.

“Not entirely,” she replied. “Only the portions that seemed to be born of chaos.”

Not ideal, I thought, but still, it’s a start. I picked up the pen. “Alright, tell me what you saw. Both of you. And let’s see if I can’t do better this time.”

✵ ✵ ✵

I spent the next few hours furiously scribing.

At first, the entire exercise went little different from my first attempt. In page over page, I sketched flowing lines and curves, placed dots and blobs of ink at seemingly random intervals, and drew short stubs of meaningless symbols. 

My two helpers were with me every step of the way, correcting and guiding my hand. Yet, to begin with, the process was just as frustrating as my first attempt. No matter how hard I tried to translate Adi and Night’s descriptions to paper, I failed time and again to correctly scribe the Rune.

Then, on as much a whim as intuition, I decided on an altogether different approach.

I stopped thinking. 

As far as I was able to, anyhow. Emptying my mind, I let my hand flow and move of its own accord, making of it as direct an instrument of Adi and Night’s will as I could and absent of interference from my own disruptive thoughts.

And shortly, I lost myself in the process. 

Time slipped by, and gradually, I felt the same sense of understanding creep on me that I had experienced the first time.

I shied away from it.

Keeping my mind adamantly blank, I focused only on the mechanical movements of my hand.

Yet, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help my mounting hope. I was on the verge of unlocking the Rune’s design. I just knew it. Knowing was within my grasp. 

A System alert formed before me. 

Yes! I exulted. The message could only herald one thing: success. I ran eager eyes over the System alert for confirmation.

Warning: Breach of administrative order 52-24 detected. Prohibited skill attempted. Scrubbing unauthorized memories.

My mouth dropped open, and my excitement crumbled. The pen fell from my numb hand, knocking over the ink bottle. I paid the mess no mind, though, as I continued to stare aghast at the message still hovering in the air.

Eventually, I managed to articulate my confusion. “Adi, what just happened?”

Silence.

My brows drew down in consternation. “Adi?”

“I am uncertain, Dace.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in slow breaths until I felt calmer. Right, let’s tackle this step by step. “What is administrative order 52-24, Adi?” I asked carefully.

“The order is unknown to me,” Adi responded. “Since you received the alert, I have submitted multiple requests to the System for access to the directive’s parameters but have been repeatedly denied permission. It seems I don’t have the necessary clearance.” 

Adi’s voice grew soft. “I am sorry, Dace. All I can tell you is that it is the sector administrator who imposed the order. Do you wish me to query the matter directly with him?”

“No,” I said while I ruminated over Adi’s words. 

It did not bode well.

The sector administrator already seemed entirely too involved in my business as it was, and I was wary of attracting further attention to myself. As far as I was concerned, the less System’s administrators—other than Adi of course—knew of me, the better.

“What is an administrative order?” Night asked, stifling another yawn. “Is it Law?”

The black dragon’s head was bowed in exhaustion. She needs rest, I thought. Unlike me, Night hadn’t had a chance to sleep earlier in the day.

“No,” Adi replied. “Administrative orders are not part of the Law. They are localized regulations of an administrator’s making—and not the System’s—and are generally only applied within a very narrow set of parameters.”

Night blinked in seeming confusion. “So, administrators can create their own Laws?”

“Not as such, they can’t,” Adi replied. “But they can create directives which help uphold the Law.”

Night still looked perplexed, but for myself I understood what Adi was getting at: administrative orders were local laws, and in this case, a sector-wide one. Though, while I understood that part, I couldn’t fathom the need for this particular directive.

I read the System message again. 

Warning: Breach of administrative order 52-24 detected. Prohibited skill attempted. Scrubbing unauthorized memories.

Much of my initial disappointment had ebbed away and my thoughts were clearer now. I still felt a measure of frustration—and anger too—to have come so close to success, only to be thwarted at the last minute, but it was not only my failure which disturbed me.

The System’s message hinted that something greater was at play.

Why had the sector administrator seen fit to prevent me—or anyone else in the sector—from scribing a Rune? 

And I was sure that was what had happened. 

If not for directive 52-24, I was certain we would have successfully copied the Rune. But despite approaching the matter from multiple angles, I couldn’t make any sense of it. I sighed. 

I doubt I am going to find any answers—not tonight, anyway.

“Adi, Night, do either of you still remember the Rune?”

There was no response, and I took this to mean it was their memories that had been scrubbed. My shoulders sagged in defeat. “Alright then, let’s sleep on the mystery and think further on it tomorrow. We’re not going to figure this one out just yet.” 

Rising to my feet, I slipped into bed and closed my eyes.