Read Glyphpunk Page 45


  *

  Aemere had almost given up looking when she spotted Thjorn being escorted form the Alliance building by a guard. No, not a guard. Skelldyn.

  She approached, noting the blood on Thjorn’s coat. He’d done whatever he needed to.

  Skelldyn started on seeing her. Thjorn dismissed him and they split up.

  She stood in Thjorn’s path. He glanced at an alleyway before reaching her. She nodded, and followed him. He wouldn’t want to be out in the open when the alarm went up.

  'What did you do to the glyphs?' she asked, her voice heated.

  'I stopped them.'

  'What do you mean you stopped them?'

  'I'm not sure I can simplify the statement.'

  She glowered. 'How did you stop them?'

  'I drew glyphs around one of the wells powering them. A remote trigger let me seal it off. The glyphs will burn out after a while, and everything will be restored. Except confidence.'

  Her frustrations welled up, and she felt angry at him without being able to choose a reason. She also couldn’t help considering what he said. 'If the glyphs block the well from powering glyphs, how do they have any power?'

  He smiled. The first he'd aimed at her. 'Good question. The wells we know aren't the only ones. Or the first ones. I used older glyphs, calling on abandoned wells.'

  'How did they...?' She hesitated. That wasn't what she wanted to know. 'You used me. You waited until I was in position so you could use me as a weapon. That’s why you triggered it then, isn’t it?'

  'I gave you the chance to beat him fairly. You were in danger.'

  'I wasn't beaten.'

  'I couldn't risk it,' said Thjorn. 'You'd rather I hadn't done it?'

  'I'd rather you hadn't interfered.'

  'He killed Augni,' Thjorn growled, his voice raw. 'He died in the arena, or he died later, but he died. And Augni would have preferred it wasn't after you.'

  She stared at him a moment, her voice softening as she saw the pain in his eyes. 'I'd prefer I still had my honour.'

  'The enemy don't seem that interested in honour. Why should you be?'

  'To avoid becoming the enemy.'

  He shook his head, his anger dissipating. 'You're just like Augni. Fighting to restore a world that never existed. You think we can go back to a world without glyphs, where honour reigned and knights killed each other in valorous wars, and commoners were butchered in their hundreds to maintain their king's honour. Pride is all it is. Augni dreamt of going back to kings ruling the lands rather than guilds, as though they did that good a job. It's just another group of tyrants dictating. This was never about going back. It's not possible. Glyphs are here, and aren't going anywhere. It's the world we build with them that's at stake.'

  He deflated. His gaze flicked away, angry.

  Was she deluded in her idealism? If so, her life had been a delusion, and she could hardly expect to see that in her current state of mind.

  'He called you a villain,' said Aemere. 'Einari. I'm not sure he's entirely wrong.'

  'He wasn't,' said Thjorn, shrugging. 'Of course I'm a villain. All this is because I refuse to live under the heel of a tyrant. If that means that everyone else also has to be freed, that's just something they'll have to deal with.'

  'I won't help you,' said Aemere.

  'I didn't ask. You still have a Tournament to win.'

  'No. Honour may not mean much to you – or so you claim – but it does to me. I didn't win. I would have, but I didn't. So I'll retire from the Tournament and win cleanly next summer.'

  He regarded her a moment. 'You've thought this through?'

  'I'm trying not to. I know what's right. Thinking invites excuses. But I refuse to live without honour. And if you have a problem with that, that’s something you’ll have to deal with.'

  He smiled, and started to turn away.

  'And you?' she asked, halting him in his tracks. 'Is it over? Is he...?'

  'Dead?' asked Thjorn, half-turning. 'Yes. But it’s not over. There’s still much to do. Wotyn may have been responsible, but the guilds will continue without him.'

  'And you have plans for them?'

  'I always have plans.'

  'And what about time to grieve what you’ve lost?'

  He hesitated, his face a mask of calm. 'There’ll be time to grieve later. We live in a world built by idiots for the benefit of none. But we don't have to. First I fix things, then I grieve the cost of doing so.'

  He walked away, and she let him. He had to keep moving. It was probably the only way he knew to be.

  But she'd had enough, and just wanted time to mourn. The urge to win the Tournament still drove her, but she'd made her peace with this summer's loss. The point she was making was more important than the victory itself. She could wait another summer.

  ###

  Supplementary material can be found at www.garethlewis.eu/Glyphpunk.html

  Also in this series:

  Glyphwar (book 2)

  Glyphmaster (book 3)

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. Even a single line review is helpful. Reviews can be one of the main factors in enticing in new customers, and the more customers, the more likely there are to be further stories.

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  Other titles by Gareth Lewis:

  Allegiances

  Blade Sworn

  Coral Throne

  Grey Engines

  Grey Enigmas

  Monstrum Ex Machina

  Shadows of the Heavens

  Song of Thunder

  Soul Food

  Stoneweaver

  Tales of the Thief-City

  The Monster in the Mirror

  The Sin of Hope

  To Hunt Monsters

 
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