A soft hum could be heard over the crackling of the campfire. A musical hum, light and airy with specific tones, carried over the heads of the band of adventurers as they slept through the night.
Thorik was awakened by the noise and quietly stood to search out the source. Grabbing his backpack he reached inside for a candle as he walked toward the ruins nearby.
The melody changed often as Thorik entered what was once the entrance to the black marble building. A large piece of cliff lay in the center of the first room, reminding him why they chose not to sleep inside the remaining walls built against the unstable cliff.
Flickers of another light danced against a wall, originating from the next room. Cold to the touch, the wall was smooth under his fingers as he leaned around the corner to see beyond it.
An area of the marble floor had been cleared of dust, pebbles, and weeds by the careful hands of Gluic. Tracing engraved lines on the floor with her fingers to clean out the remaining dirt, she continued to hum her tune. “Powerful, isn’t it?” she said without acknowledging her grandson had arrived.
“What is this?”
Pure of cracks and damage, the engraved floor symbol designs interlaced natural vine-like lines with hexagons as it filled a circle the width of Thorik’s old shack in Farbank. The designs were that of the ancient Notarians, who had created many structures across the land before the Great Mountain King War.
“The power of your Runestones apply here.”
“Granna, the stones I have are sacred to our beliefs, but they have no power. In fact I’m not sure how important they really are. The more I learn about other cultures, the less it seems we really need the stones or the Mountain King’s words.”
“Even more do we need him right now.”
“But, what if Santorray is right about Ergrauth freeing the slaves instead of the Mountain King? They did inherit the land after the war.”
“True, and yet not.”
“Who do I believe?”
“The Runestones.”
“Why?”
“They are the wind, the water, your skin. They existed long before the Mountain King War and have much to tell us. They have the answers to everything.”
“Yes, I know. The Runestone Scrolls tell us everything we need to know.”
“No, not the scrolls, the stones. Your stones.”
“Gluic, you’re asking me to believe something that I’ve never heard you even talk about. You’ve never attended Brimmelle’s readings or tried to teach me the King’s words.”
“His words should be said and heard. They are good words, but both of these acts are short lived. Living up to them is what is important. Your Runestones go beyond our lives and touch all things.”
“Why haven’t you spoke of this before?”
“There is less time now than there was before.”
“Less time? What do you mean?”
“You must learn to understand the runes.”
“I know what they mean. Fir Brimmelle pounds them into me every day.”
Gluic walked over, reached into his backpack and pulled out the pouch of his Runestones. Grabbing one, she slapped it into his hand. “What is this?” she asked.
Thorik tried to move his hand out from under Gluic’s hand so he could see the symbol, but she refused to let go. “I can’t see the symbol.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Yes I do.”
“Trace it with your fingers and your mind.”
Thorik pacified his grandmother’s request and began moving his fingers around. Thousands of years of wear had diminished all sharp edges and nearly removed some of the ridges altogether. The symbol on the gem in the center categorized the meaning, but it was the ridges on the stone itself that defined their individuality.
Gluic tightened her grip on him by slapping her other hand below his and squeezing. “No, not so fast. Slowly. Close your eyes. Touch the pattern. Feel the stone’s power.”
Pausing only slightly, he slowly traced one of the raised lines on the stone. Once it came to an end, he moved on to the second one, and then to the third. “Is it the Runestone of Kindness?”
“Stop thinking what you have been taught and begin understanding what it really is.”
“I don’t-”
“Keep tracing,” she interrupted. “Only think what the stone tells you.”
He traced another line, eventually splitting into two. “How do I know which way to follow? Are there rules to observe? I’m pretty sure it’s the Runestone of Kindness.”
Covering his hands from above and below, she closed her eyes and waited for him to continue.
Again he tried, time after time with no results. Guessing would only upset Gluic so he refrained in doing so.
After an hour went by he began to get sleepy, relaxing his eyes, his shoulders and his mind. It was at this point that he jolted from a sensation within his palm. A flow of light, of energy, of information, he could not recall. Just a burst, a flash of something deeper than reality.
Thorik opened his eyes to see his grandmother standing at a distance, in the center of the floor circle smiling at him. His palm was very warm as the Runestone of Kindness rested in it. “What just happened?”
“More than symbols of our faith, they explain the fabric of our world.”
“No, they’re stones. Passed down by my father, yes, but no different than any other stone carving of the King’s runes.”
“Passed down from the maker for you to use, for you to understand.”
“For me? How does the maker know who I am? And who is this maker?”
“Shhh, son, I have a lot to teach you in a short time. Focus on the stone. Trace the lines. Understand what it is.”
“But-”
“Trace the pattern.”
He did as he was told. Over and over again he tried until once again he relaxed, allowing the stone to control him. The gem in the center of the stone began to give off a slight glow.
Tingling crept into his fingers, then his palm and up his arm. Streams of energy flowed from the stone as though miniature tadpoles raced inside him, warming his body.
As the sensation reached his head he felt light of weight. His vision blurred. His hearing went deaf. Cut off from all outside disturbances, Thorik no longer thought of himself as a Polenum, but instead he was one with the air, the wind, and the sky.
Dropping the Runestone, he crashed back to earth as his legs gave way.
Gluic kneeled beside him and held his overly warm hand. “What is this stone’s true nature?”
“Air.”
“Ah, good. That’s one of the three we need. Get up so we can find the other two.”
Chapter 23
The Climb