The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  Brock had no idea what Benny was talking about. “That’s great, Benny,” he replied, showing support for his new friend.

  “You’re lucky, Benny.” The words came from Cam. “I wish I was smart like you.”

  Benny stared at Cam, an incredulous look on his face. “Are you kidding? Have you looked at yourself? You’re tall, good looking, and you have those bulging muscles. I bet you could lift me over your head and toss me across a room. I wish I was like you.”

  Cam grunted but didn’t argue. “I just wish people wouldn’t treat me like I’m dumb.”

  Brock interjected, “Hey, look at me. I’m not big and strong, nor am I super smart. In fact, I don’t know that I’m special at all.” He stared up at the now reddening clouds. “But I’m not going to let it stop me.”

  Brock heard a faint scream coming from the woods at the edge of the lawn. He sat up, looking in that direction.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  After a moment of consideration, he scrambled to his feet and ran in the direction of the scream.

  “Hear what?” He heard Benny yell from behind.

  Brock didn’t reply. He just kept running, using his speed to quickly close the distance. As he neared the trees, he heard another scream, muffled this time. He angled toward the sound, bursting through the brush to find a dark-haired male student on top of another student. Not slowing, he lowered his shoulder and plowed into the student on top.

  A shock of pain surged through Brock’s shoulder. They tumbled across the ferns on the forest floor, rolling with the momentum. He scrambled to his feet, ready to defend himself.

  Slowly rising, the other boy stood upright. He matched Cameron in height, but he lacked the thick bulging muscles that framed Cam’s figure. Regardless, Brock didn’t like his chances in a fight.

  “You just made a big mistake, boy,” the taller boy said. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  He heard a whimper from behind the other boy. Glancing past him, Brock saw a girl curled in a ball on the forest floor. Seeing her distressed made him angry.

  “Oh, I know who I’m dealing with,” Brock replied. “I’m dealing with an ugly bastard who apparently can only get with a girl by forcing himself on her.”

  That triggered a reaction. The boy charged and took a swing at Brock, who deftly dodged. He cleared his attacker and spun around to see the boy holding a hand to his forehead. Apparently, he had run into a tree limb hanging above where Brock had been standing. When he removed his hand, blood dripped from a torn brow.

  “You little bastard! Now I’m gonna kill you,” the boy said as he advanced.

  Brock backed away, keeping a safe distance. His foot caught on something and he stumbled, landing on his rear. It was the prone form of the girl, still curled up and crying. Looking up at the boy, fear finally struck Brock.

  The air suddenly filled with sound of breaking branches and trampled shrubs. The other boy looked up beyond Brock, his look of anger changing to one of surprise.

  “Come any closer, and you will know pain.” Brock recognized Cam’s voice.

  The boy held his hands up and stepped backward. “I don’t want any trouble, big guy.”

  “Leave.” Cameron growled.

  Looping around the clearing, the boy gave Brock one last hateful glare. “You’ll regret this, you little peon.” He turned and disappeared into the brush.

  Benny burst through the trees at that moment. “What’s happening? Is everyone okay?” he asked, breathing hard.

  Brock knelt next to the crying girl, her blonde hair full of pine needles.

  “It’s okay. He’s gone. You’re safe now.”

  She removed her hands, exposing blue eyes turned red and puffy from crying.

  “Can I go back to the school now?” she asked timidly.

  He smiled, trying to reassure the distraught girl. “Of course you can. We’re here to help. My name is Brock. The big menacing guy there is Cam, and the other one is Benny. We’ll walk you back to make sure you reach the Girls’ Wing safely.”

  Nervous eyes darted between the three boys. Her hands came up to wipe tears away. She looked at Brock again and smiled. “Thank you. I’m so glad…so very glad that you showed up.”

  She took his extended hand and he pulled her to a stance. He helped her brush pine needles from her hair and cloak. She smiled up at him.

  “My name is Amber,” she said, glancing toward the others. “You can’t imagine how thankful I am that you’re here.”

  “You’re welcome, Amber,” Brock said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She looked down at the ground. “I…was so scared. I’m just a little shaken. I’ll be fine.”

  The pretty blonde’s eyes met Brock’s and she smiled. He smiled back, hoping to reassure her.

  They escorted Amber back to the Academy, entering the door closest to the Girls’ Wing. Once inside, she thanked them again and retreated toward her room.

  They watched her walk down the hall until Cam broke the silence.

  “Now can we eat?”

  Brock and Benny laughed as they turned to head toward the dining hall.

  CHAPTER 42

  It was the first day of Brock’s official training. As he stepped into his Lore classroom, anticipation tickled his stomach. Other students filtered into the room with him, seeking empty chairs.

  Five rows of tables faced the front of the room with an open aisle up the center. Each row had twelve chairs that quickly filled as students found seats. Brock sat in the third row, directly behind Benny. Within minutes, eager students occupied the room.

  Master Mae sat at the desk in the front of the room. A bit younger than the other instructors, she had long dark hair, fair skin, and angular eyes. Her clothing wore loosely on her petite figure. The bell rang, and she stood to address them.

  “Hello, students. I’m Master Mae, your Lore instructor. You might be wondering what Lore is. Quite simply, Lore is information. This includes facts about people, places, and events throughout history. Now, you’re likely wondering why you need to learn about history. After all, why should we worry about something that happened dozens or hundreds of years ago?” She paused as many of the students nodded.

  “Nearly a hundred years ago, a prelate decided to institute a law making it illegal to sell, buy, or consume ale or wine within the city. Over time, the prelate found the results were not what he had anticipated. Tax income decreased as the inns and taprooms had drastically fewer customers. At the same time, crime increased since the city watch was busy trying to enforce the new law. In fact, an underground network of secret taprooms soon appeared. These illegal establishments made large sums of untaxed money, driven by their ability to meet a public demand for ale and wine. With this gold, the owners were able to pay for their own strong-arms to help them create crime gangs. The power of these gangs soon surpassed the strength of the city government. Finally, the Empire had to step in and squash the most powerful of these gangs as an example to the others. They removed the prelate, replacing him with a new prelate who made ale and wine legal again. With their main source of income now public domain, the remaining gangs soon dwindled in power until crime returned to a normal level.”

  She walked down the center aisle until she was even with Brock’s row, turning toward him with a question.

  “Why did I tell this story, young man?” She challenged him with a glare.

  Brock considered and responded, “Well, I guess you mean to point out how stupid it was for the prelate to make this law. If we’d never heard this story and one of us was in a similar position in the future, we might make the same mistake.”

  “Exactly!” Master Mae responded. “Those who do not learn from history are likely to repeat the mistakes of others. This is a simple, yet powerful, example of why we study Lore.”

  She returned to the front of the classroom. “You may not find yourself in the position of prelate, but you’ll still learn many things from the past
. Only the future knows which of these things will prevent you from making mistakes like the prelate in this story.”

  Heads nodded as students began to understand why this instruction mattered. Satisfied, Mae continued.

  “For today’s lesson, we’ll focus on history’s most pivotal event: how the Issalian Empire came to be. I’m sure that most of you have heard this story before, but likely an inaccurate version.”

  The Lore master paced around the room, her fingers tapping the tables she passed.

  “Hundreds of years ago, the continent was divided into seven individual kingdoms. Each kingdom was ruled by its own king or queen, had its own citizens, its own lands, and its own agenda. Never-ending contention between these kingdoms resulted in frequent wars over borders, trade disputes, and other trivial issues.”

  Everyone in the class listened closely. Knowledge of anything prior to the existence of the Empire was scant at best.

  “Roughly two hundred years ago, an event happened. Some say the sun darkened for days. Others say something strange appeared in the sky. Regardless, whatever happened was a portent of something sinister.”

  The room seemed to darken. Brock glanced at the windows, trying to determine if it was his imagination.

  “An invading army had found its way to the shores of our continent. A force known as the Banished Horde appeared on the Kalimar peninsula. Within weeks of first sighting the Horde, Kalimar was overrun by this evil army.”

  “The Banished Horde did not stop there. Northward they swept. One by one, they met the eastern kingdoms and obliterated them. Not only did they crush any opposition, but they would then proceed to eat the men they had killed. The Horde was not made of men but of evil beasts from some unknown origin, feasting on the bodies and souls of man.”

  Again, the room seemed to darken as she spoke of the Horde and the horrors they inflicted.

  “As the Horde destroyed one country after another, it became apparent to the Ministry that they needed to take action. They requested that the rulers of the western kingdoms form an alliance. The King of Kantar and King of Torinland journeyed to Fallbrandt with their full armies in tow. Here at the Academy, they joined with the Tantarri head clansman to meet with the Ministry. The Queen of Ri Star, a tiny island nation, was the only western ruler who did not make the journey. She instead sent a message that she would have her naval fleet police the Gulf of Norta to ensure that the Horde did not attempt to bypass the armies of man.”

  “These rulers met with the leaders of the Ministry in a room not far from where you now sit. For days they met, discussing their options and laying out plans to stop the Horde in hopes to prevent the obliteration of mankind.”

  “After three days of deliberation, they agreed to follow the leadership of the Ministry. The combined forces of Kantaria, Torinland, and Tantarri would join with the Ministry’s Holy Army of paladins to create the largest single armed force in history.”

  Master Mae tapped her finger on the large map tacked to the wall. Starting at Fallbrandt, she began tracing through the mountains as she spoke.

  “On a spring morning in the year 1252, the unified might of the armies of man rode eastward to meet the armies of darkness. They marched hard for six days, in hopes of gaining a position of tactical advantage prior to the arrival of the enemy. Upon the western steppes of the Tantarri plains, the clans of the Tantarri joined the army where it reached its full force.”

  “The armies of man arrived on the upper plateau first, forming a line of resistance at the narrow mouth to the lower plains. There, they prepared and waited for the Horde to arrive.” Her finger stopped and tapped on the map, indicating a location where two cliffs came together on the plains.

  “They didn’t have to wait long. A few hours past nightfall, the armies of the Horde attacked. Much like our knowledge of the Banished Horde, the details of this battle are scarce. Suffice to say, it was like no other battle in history. After three days filled with death and destruction, the Horde was thoroughly defeated. The survivors gathered their wounded and began a slow march west. Twenty days after departing from Fallbrandt, the armies returned victorious, but with less than a quarter of their original numbers.”

  “As the armies camped on the lawn outside the Academy, the remaining rulers met with the leaders of the Ministry. With reluctance, they agreed to form what is now the Empire. They combined the bodies of church and state, with the leaders accepting roles as prelates within the Ministry. The idea was that the unification of all lands on the continent would provide a stronger, single entity that would be more resistant to invading forces. In addition, the structure and guidance provided by the Ministry would ensure that the Empire thrived.”

  She walked to the front of the aisle, her eyes scanning the room.

  “Your very existence was made possible by the sacrifices made during these events. The safe and productive lives of the citizens of the Empire are the result of the efforts of these forefathers.”

  After a pause, she addressed the class again.

  “There are many events and topics we will cover in this class. In addition, I want each of you to visit the library and research the history of the Empire. Be ready to suggest a topic of interest for classroom discussion over the coming months.”

  Brock’s mind was thinking about the Horde. Intrigued by this mysterious enemy from the past, he decided to seek out more information about them in the library.

  CHAPTER 43

  Stepping onto the Arena floor, Brock was greeted by a student wearing a white vest. She directed him to the changing room at the far end of the floor.

  Shelves lined the changing room walls, while rows of benches occupied the center of the space. Brock crossed the room, glancing through an open doorway and noticing pools of water cut into the rock of the neighboring room. He stared in curiosity at the steam rising from the water, wondering how they heated it.

  Remembering that class was soon starting, he pulled his white sparring vest and tan breeches from his pack and then stuffed the pack into an empty shelf. He stripped to his smallclothes and slipped into his training gear. While tucking the bottom of his breeches into his boots, he glanced sideways and spotted Cameron. Brock was glad to see someone he knew.

  The bell rang, followed by a bellow coming from the Arena.

  “What’s wrong with you lazy novices? Get out here now!”

  Everyone scrambled in response, hastily dressing as they ran out the door.

  “Get in a line facing me!” Budakis shouted, pointing toward the floor.

  Students began to line up, side-by-side. Brock looked to his right to see girls scrambling from the other changing room and falling into line.

  With everyone in place, Budakis strolled down the line, his eyes scanning each student. Reaching the end, he returned to take a firm stance before the group. He crossed his arms and stared at them.

  “Somehow, each group of novices seems more pathetic than the last. You students have done an admirable job of supporting that tradition,” he grumbled.

  “In the future, I expect you dressed and on this line before the bell rings. In addition, you will not slouch. You are to stand at attention with your feet shoulder-width apart, eyes forward, chest out.”

  Budakis posed to show the students how it looked. Brock could feel others down the line making adjustments to mirror the master’s stance.

  The grimace on Budakis’ face twisted into a grin. “Much better. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.” His smile took on a sadistic edge. “Before we begin, I’ll give you some insight of what you can expect from this class.”

  “My assistants, Mister Graves and Miss Harrister,” he gestured toward the couple standing past the end of the line, “will be helping me get the sorry lot of you into shape. By mid-year, you’ll be able to run for miles without stopping, do a hundred push-ups, climb a rope to the ceiling above, and defend yourself.”

  He paced before the line while he spoke. “For those who are eager to get a sw
ord in your hand, you can forget that right now. It will be weeks before you touch a weapon and will be years before it is made of anything but wood. You see, being a paladin is a bloody business. It’s a job filled with severed limbs, spilled guts, and many sleepless nights. I think you can wait a bit before you lose any appendages.” Budakis stopped and grinned. “Sorry to squash your romantic thoughts of being some grand hero with a shiny sword. The reality is not glamorous like in the storybooks. Yes, there’s a level of personal satisfaction, but in the end, paladins do the jobs nobody else wants to touch.”

  He paced the other direction as he continued. “It’s not a calling for everyone. You cannot just be good at fighting; you must be among the best. Not just physically, but you need to have a good heart. The killing that paladins do should be done by those who wish they didn’t have to kill. Some of you might be among the next to join the ranks of apprentice paladin. My job is two-fold: first, I’ll have you trained to at least defend yourself; second, I’ll attempt to find a few diamonds among a field of broken glass.”

  Budakis stopped in the center, staring at them. He smiled. “Well, are you ready to begin?”

  Students up and down the line nodded. Only Brock’s voice could be heard.

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Budakis stepped uncomfortably close. The smell of his morning caffe wafted up Brock’s nose. Brock remained still, trying not to shake as his stomach fluttered.

  “Mister Talenz. It appears that you already know the proper response when I ask a question.” The master paladin smiled and stepped away. “In that case, you should to lead us in our first workout. Please come up and face the group.”

  Budakis pointed toward a spot on the floor beside him. Brock stepped forward as Budakis addressed the class.

  “Mister Talenz will lead us in push-ups. He will count as he does them. You will mimic him, matching his count and will continue until he is done.” He then turned to Brock. “Do as many push-ups as you can.”