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    Glyphpunk
    Glyphpunk
    Glyphpunk
    Ebook294 pages4 hours

    Glyphpunk

    By Gareth Lewis

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Glyphs are the technology holding together the kingdoms of the Scarred Sea, and the means by which competing guilds control most of them. For all their benefits, not everyone is content with the world they've created.
    When the theft of valuable glyphing metal increases tension between the guilds, Thjorn, the glyphpunk responsible for the theft, will ensure that's only the start of their troubles.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGareth Lewis
    Release dateFeb 19, 2013
    ISBN9781301390434
    Glyphpunk
    Author

    Gareth Lewis

    Gareth Lewis has written a number of novels and shorter works in a few genres, including fantasy, science fiction, and thrillers. A programmer, he has a degree in computer studies, and lives in South Wales.

    Read more from Gareth Lewis

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      Book preview

      Glyphpunk - Gareth Lewis

      Chapter 1

      The lines glided across the wall with a speed that would cause the most experienced glyphmason to quail, yet Thjorn showed little doubt in his movements, his eyes always ahead of his hand.

      Augni wasn't comfortable with the sight. 'You can probably afford a little time to...'

      'No need,' said Thjorn.

      'As long as you're sure it won't...'

      'It won't explode,' Thjorn said in exasperation. 'It's not that kind of...'

      '...won't not work because you rushed,' Augni finished.

      Thjorn glanced at him, their gazes slightly askance as his boots held him to the stone half way up the wall. Lean and alert, he was meticulously clean even in the rough clothes used for night-time excursions. He regarded Augni with the look of strained patience usually reserved for the rest of the world as he waited for it to catch up.

      'I am busy here,' said Thjorn, turning back to the large glyph. He stepped over it as the line threatened to escape his reach, giving little regard to the fifteen feet separating him from one of the few decent roads through Akar. He paused only to dip the brush in the bowl of paint.

      Being on the city’s main road left them visible – too visible for Augni’s liking. The time of night and dense mist mitigated their danger, but their need for a visible location meant they had little choice.

      Augni kept an alert watch both ways. The building was best situated for maximum impact, and a stone building didn't run the risk of being burnt by the glyph. Less risk, anyway. It also had a high wall – this close to the docks houses had been built on top of older buildings which now served as flood cellars.

      The guards patrolled in irregular patterns, and infrequently when they could get away with it. He'd spotted one a way inland earlier, far enough that the mist left them no more than indistinct forms highlighted by a lamp.

      Augni and Thjorn had no light with them, relying on the dim illumination of the street glyphlights, apparently enough for Thjorn.

      From what Augni could see Thjorn was nearly done. He didn't bother asking, since that would only delay things and get another barely-veiled rebuke. He'd rather they got clear before being spotted.

      Allowing himself to ponder such a hope inevitably brought a call from behind. He turned to see a couple of guards emerge from a side street barely a hundred feet inland.

      'Finished?' he asked.

      'Almost,' said Thjorn, casually ignoring the sound of running boots.

      'Now would be good.'

      'Now you want me to rush.'

      'Only if you don’t want to explain to them what you’re doing.'

      'What we’re doing,' said Thjorn.

      'I’ll be gone by that time.'

      Thjorn stood – perpendicular to the wall – and examined his work. 'Okay. Run.'

      They broke into a run, Augni along the street and Thjorn along the wall. Descending as he went, Thjorn discarded the bowl and brush to clatter and splash on the ground.

      The guards sounded a horn. An answering call came far too soon from off to the side, thankfully not that close. Still, their captain must be under pressure for so many to be out in this weather.

      They ducked down a side street, along their planned route. The guards' footsteps sounded behind them as Thjorn led the way up a wall.

      Augni felt the familiar queasiness as the glyphs on his boots jerked his body into thinking the wall was the ground, and he nearly stumbled. No matter how much he practiced he couldn't adapt to the change as easily as Thjorn. His mind still screamed that down was actually the increasing gap behind him, which he somehow managed not to glance back at.

      The guards' pursuit stumbled to a halt as he leapt over the edge onto the roof, a few steps behind Thjorn. The roof held their weight without problem, their route planned to avoid the flimsier surfaces. They didn't need weak thatch collapsing under them as they tried to avoid capture.

      As it was, he doubted the guards would follow them to the rooftops. So far all they'd done was deface a wall. Since the defacement was with a glyph, the incident would be mainly of interest to the Society of Glyphmasons, whose own guards would investigate. The lack of love between them and the regular guards meant the latter would put as little effort into capturing offenders as they could get away with.

      Nevertheless their route took them on a roundabout path away from their pursuers, in case they happened to be more than usually diligent. No signs of such diligence appeared, and they reached their perch on a rooftop a short way along the main street. Far enough that they shouldn't be visible to the guards congregating around the glyph, while near enough to make out proceedings through the haze.

      Catching his breath – and calming his stomach as body and mind reached agreement over which way was down – Augni studied the guards as they warily regarded the glyph. It was just out of their reach, not that they'd touch a glyph without knowing what it did.

      Augni turned to see Thjorn idly carving a glyph into the side of the chimney, next to the one he'd prepared earlier. Most glyphmasons approached the carving with care and precision. Thjorn simply sketched them. Augni wasn't aware of him once making a mistake in doing so, certainly none he'd admit to.

      He didn't ask what the glyph did, since such straightforward questions seldom got clear responses. The pattern didn't match the standard glyphs. It looked more like the ones Thjorn had been experimenting with of late.

      Augni didn’t even recognise the basic points he was using. He knew glyphs only worked if the lines ran through points corresponding to the geographical locations of power wells – fonts of magical energy situated around the lands. The nature of the constituent wells he was less clear on, but he knew they had to occur in precise relation to each other on the glyph to achieve the desired effect.

      This glyph he didn’t recognise even the basic structure of, but that could be his limited knowledge of glyphs. Or Thjorn could be playing with whoever found these during the inevitable investigation.

      'Are you going to...?' Augni began.

      'Trigger it?' said Thjorn.

      '...crouch down so they don't spot you.'

      'They'll send for their captain, and he'll send word to the Society,' said Thjorn. 'Their guards will come out, followed by a glyphist at some point. It'll be a while before he’ll admit he isn't sure what the glyph does, and for them to start taking the incident seriously. By which time we'll be long gone. Of course, when I trigger it things'll happen quicker. For now, there’s no rush. Let's let a crowd assemble.'

      Settling down to wait, Augni didn't doubt Thjorn’s assessment. This would appear to be a simple tagging incident, albeit slightly irregular in its elevation. Still, since the glyph didn't appear to be active, they'd hope this was a street gang drawing random symbols to scare people.

      A glyphist would recognise it wasn't fake, and suspect the gang had a glyphpunk – a glyphmason unaffiliated with either the Society or the Alliance and therefore not authorised to inscribe glyphs. That the artist must have stood on the wall would support this.

      'Did you pack any crackling?' asked Thjorn.

      'No,' said Augni. 'Why would I?'

      'You know I like it.'

      'But I don’t.'

      'You’re not a good partner in crime,' said Thjorn. 'I’m hungry. Why couldn’t you prepare for that like a proper partner should have?'

      'You’re not hungry, you’re bored.'

      'Hungry? Bored? What does it matter? I need something to pass the time.'

      'You’re carving a glyph.'

      'That’s only keeping my hands occupied. My mind and mouth are free.'

      'Oh, for a muzzle,' said Augni. He only half paid attention. The conversation was mainly to keep Thjorn’s mind occupied while they waited. He could execute plans over months – years even – with meticulous precision, but tell him to sit quietly on a chair for five minutes and you’d come back to find an exotic glyph carved into it that massaged your back or something. Inactivity was one of the few things he couldn’t master.

      Fortunately almost a dozen guards had gathered by the time Thjorn appeared satisfied with his work. Augni still had no idea what the small glyph was supposed to do. Thjorn leaned casually forward and touched the other glyph. It sparked as his hand withdrew, and the edges of the surrounding stone began to crack. One split reached the glyph and it fizzled out.

      The guards backed away as a spot of the large glyph sparked to life. Only a small spot, where Thjorn had placed a smaller glyph to break the line of the larger one. It quickly burnt away, closing the gap in the larger glyph, which sprang to life. Sparks flew and guards scrambled clear.

      The locals started investigating the disturbance.

      The glyph continued to spark, and would for a while. The paint Thjorn had used for the large glyph was more durable, and for all its visibility the large glyph didn't require much power. Thjorn claimed it could last well into the day, barring deactivation. Even after that, the uncertainty of the glyph's purpose should cause confusion.

      'Anything else to do here?' asked Augni.

      'Admire my handiwork,' said Thjorn, with a hint of smugness.

      'Very nice. Very sparkly. Can we go?'

      Sighing, Thjorn led them away.

      *

      By the time the sun came into view Augni floated in the shadow of a boat moored outside the harbour. Thjorn and Hadlaug were with him. The activity aroused by Thjorn’s artwork had reached the shore a short while earlier, closing off the road.

      Their obscured position gave a clear view of the dockside road arcing around the edge of the city. Longer than the road through the centre, it had more traffic than usual due to the closure.

      They grew alert as the heavily laden wagons set out from a warehouse compound, an escort of Society guards ensuring a wide berth fore and aft. Lacking horses the wagons were obviously glyph-powered, and would be glyph-reinforced to support their load. What wouldn't support their load was the section of road that was basically a reinforced pier. The road's wood was sturdy enough for most traffic, and would probably have handled the wagons had one of the supports not been weakened. The damage they’d done had been precise, so only one section gave way as the rear end of the first wagon passed over.

      The wagons behind stopped amid a flurry of calls, and a few crates tumbled out the back of the first wagon into the water twenty feet below. The wagon remained precariously perched, but it’d either have fallen or been secured by the time they got there.

      Submerging, they swam towards shore. The glyphs on the scarf around Augni’s mouth and nose tingled as he allowed himself to take his first breath under water. He felt compelled to breathe slowly, despite Thjorn's assurance they should last long enough to do the job.

      The waters grew murky as they approached the shore, rendering the glyphs on their cloaks hopefully unnecessary. He felt safer with them obscuring him from view, though.

      They'd have only a limited window before the guards checked the fallen cargo was secure. It was valuable enough that they’d want it recovered as fast as possible, but too heavy and sensitive to do so easily.

      No signs of other movement greeted them as they reached the shore. While the murkiness would hide their activities, it also limited their visibility.

      Thjorn led the way, never wavering or hesitating as he selected a crate. Hadlaug moved in with the crowbar, as Augni risked a peek at the commotion above.

      Heads poked over the edge. From what he could make out he didn't think anyone had spotted movement.

      The crate's end came off as he turned back, and Hadlaug made the damage appear due to the fall. Augni and Thjorn grabbed the contents: dark silver arvinim bars, a couple of inches high and wide, and ten inches long. It’s durability in inscribing glyphs made it highly valued.

      Relatively heavy, the bars they tossed didn't go far before dropping and sinking in the mud. That was good. It meant the two they were taking could be considered lost down there for that much longer. Given their value they'd never be written off, so a cooling trail was all they could hope for.

      They moved from the accident site along the shoreline, taking a good ten minutes to reach the deserted area they’d selected.

      It was still too early in the day for this area of dockland to have any activity, its warehouses used – if at all – for long term storage. So a quick scan of the area was all that was required before they surfaced. Augni hauled himself up the rope hanging from the dock, his waterlogged clothes dragging him down. Pulling the rope up after them, they scurried into an alley between warehouses.

      Skelldyn abandoned his pretence of scavenging among the discarded garbage. He joined them at his hand cart, from which he handed them dry clothes. He took the bars in exchange, hiding them within the pile of dubious provenance.

      Professionally nondescript and inconspicuous, Skelldyn’s air of nervousness disappeared in the sheer terror of a job, so he usually appeared bored. He left at a relaxed pace as they changed. He'd pass unquestioned even if he went right by the accident site.

      Hadlaug muttered about letting the valuables be escorted unarmed. Bulky, with his dark brown hair cut close to his scalp, he seldom trusted anyone out of his sight, and walked with suppressed violence in every step. Apart from the frequent occasions it wasn't suppressed.

      Fastening his sword belt, he favoured them with a glower before moving out of the alley.

      Thjorn and Augni weren't far behind, exchanging a brief nod before departing in different directions.

      Finally allowing himself to breathe freely, Augni kept watch for anyone spying on him, or following, which he doubted by that point. The theft had been the dangerous bit. His alertness was no more than usual for walking in this area, and that was a lot more relaxed than minutes ago.

      Chapter 2

      It amazed Thjorn how slow many glyphmasons could be. They remained reluctant to go near the glyph. Hadn’t they worked out it was harmless yet? Admittedly there were some bits it should take them longer to understand, but it was almost as if they couldn’t read them.

      The guilds – the Society and the Alliance – had set themselves up as the guardians of this treasure the First Ones left when they passed from this world. The guilds decided who was allowed to use them, and how, yet seemed to understand glyphs about as well as the tribesmen originally taught them by the First Ones.

      He’d never understood how so few glyphmasons could comprehend what glyphs did simply by looking.

      They understood the basics: that glyphs drew on geographical power wells, reflected by fixed points on a glyph which had to be situated in precise relation to one another.

      They knew – and some even understood – what the points did: the trigger, power level, duration, and range which controlled the general attributes of a glyph; and the decay, strength, pull, and life force which shaped the effect.

      They’d have memorised the effects of all the angles through which lines traversed the points.

      Yet ask them to say with a moment’s notice what these did in a particular combination and they’d be lost. Some were even unaware you didn’t need all control points. Ask how multiple effect points interacted in a single glyph and they’d look at you funny. Although Thjorn would admit – with reluctance, and only in the privacy of his own mind – that he sometimes had to think about those. But never more than a minute.

      Yet the guilds insisted they knew everything there was to know about glyphs. How civilisation had come into being mystified him.

      Not saying anything aloud, he moved on as the local guards dispersed the crowd. With Akar the largest and busiest port in Sinnir, the guards would be under pressure not to keep its main road closed long. But they couldn’t direct their frustrations at the glyphmasons.

      Thjorn noted the guards didn’t bother the Alliance member watching proceedings. Sinnir may be primarily allied with the Society, but they wouldn’t antagonise the Alliance.

      While the uneasy détente between them meant they shared some things, the rivals would prefer keeping knowledge to themselves until sure of its value. So the Alliance man drew the occasional hard glance from the Society men.

      Leaving them to their ineptitude Thjorn headed towards the docks, taking a few side streets and alleys to ensure he wasn’t followed.

      He didn’t know whether to laugh at the idiots or attack them for their ignorance.

      It also frustrated him that most glyphmasons were so blissfully oblivious to – or unconcerned by – the quiet tyranny the guilds exercised over society.

      Their influence had grown to supplant that of most monarchies, rendering them almost irrelevant. That they hadn’t taken direct control over the guards and other civic authorities stemmed more from a lack of interest in the minutiae of governance than any lack of power.

      While they may see themselves as different – the Society catered to the more affluent customer while the Alliance handled everyday glyphs – Thjorn had never distinguished between the two. Both manipulated countries for their own ends, to gain advantage over their only obstacle to complete dominance: each other.

      They weren’t even structured differently once you got past the titles. Each had a ruling body – a council of senior glyphmasons for the Society, and the board of administrators for the Alliance – with an arch-glyphmason or chairman overseeing things. While the lower levels of the Society was guided by the glyphmason’s experience, and the Alliance governed by how much they earned, it made little difference. It wasn’t the rank and file who made the decisions.

      Most people outside the guilds didn’t even know who ran them, and many members didn’t care. Yet they were on their way to controlling as much as they could be bothered with, and nobody seemed to have the ability or desire to stop them.

      Was it any wonder he was so angry with a world out to irritate him?

      A crowd watched the site of the collapse, even after a couple of hours. Hardly surprising, with the Society men still putting on a show.

      Lingering in an alley as he took an apple from his pocket, Thjorn scanned the crowd. Augni was easily located. As were the thugs watching him. The pair stayed back but weren’t exactly subtle. Could they not even pretend competence?

      Their look and demeanour suggested they worked for the local gang boss. While Sinnir –Akar in particular – was strongly policed, nowhere was free of underworld elements. Akar’s were relatively entrenched, and apparently knew who’d carried out this theft without their consent.

      The thugs were definitely watching Augni rather than the incident.

      Ignoring them, Thjorn joined Augni and watched the Society men around the breach engaging in hushed arguments.

      'Anything interesting?' Thjorn asked as he nibbled at the lean remains of the apple.

      'Not really,' said Augni. He glanced at the apple, probably wondering whether it had been legally acquired. 'Been a while since they brought anything up.'

      Society guards started dispersing the crowd, for all the good that would do. Many drifted back after only going a few steps. Thjorn and Augni continued on their way, joining the flow of foot traffic. Even on main streets their tails weren't particularly inconspicuous.

      'You know we have company,' said Augni.

      'Of course,' said Thjorn.

      'Society?' asked Augni.

      Thjorn snorted. 'No. Just the locals.'

      Thjorn led them towards a less trafficked neighbourhood, one with plenty of solid buildings which would support their glyphed boots. While running wouldn’t be his preferred option, he preferred having the option.

      They’d not been off the main streets long when a head poked out ahead, quickly ducking back.

      'Oh, please,' said Thjorn. Were they actually trying to insult him? They were, weren’t they. That’s why they sent such blatant amateurs.

      'I’m sure they’re doing their best,' said Augni. 'This might go better if you don’t point out their inadequacies.'

      'Don’t worry. I’ll charm our way out of it.'

      'Dear fates, no. Please don’t try that.'

      'What do you mean try?' asked Thjorn.

      'You can’t do

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