“Thank you, Fion,” Brock said as she removed her hand from his arm. “I appreciate it. You’re a wonderful healer.”
A shy smile crossed the girl’s face as her eyes flicked up at him, then away again. “You’re welcome, Brock.”
She bent over, her black hair dangling in the air as she retrieved her basket. “Would you like some bread?” She held the basket out to him, her eyes not meeting his.
“Yes, thank you.” He grabbed two chunks. With lunch soon approaching, he was hungry prior to the injury. The healing left him famished.
The girl gave him a small bow and retreated to the stands. Brock tore a bite, chewing vigorously as he watched her depart.
“I’m sorry, Brock.”
He turned toward Cameron, who held his sparring helmet under one arm.
“Trust me, if anyone is sorry, it’s me.” Brock smiled when confusion clouded Cam’s face. “I’m sorry that I somehow got stuck with you as my sparring partner.”
Cam smiled. “Well, you did get me pretty good last week.”
Brock bit into the bread and bent to retrieve his helmet, which he had tossed aside after the injury.
“I was able to fracture your leg once in what, seven weeks?” They began walking toward the changing room. “In the meantime, you’ve smashed me to the ground, broke four fingers, two ribs, and now my arm. That doesn’t even count the dozens of bruises and one throbbing headache. Thank Issal that we only spar once a week.”
“I can ask Budakis to pair me with someone else,” Cam offered.
“No.” Brock shook his head. “Even if I thought he’d listen, it would send the wrong message. He says that we need to be ready to fight the best because you never know who you might face in battle. If I avoid fighting you, he will think less of me. I don’t want to let him down like that.”
He chewed on the second piece of bread as he led Cam into the changing room.
Cameron set his helmet on a shelf and unstrapped his shield. “We have another week before we spar. Maybe you’ll learn a move that’ll put you on top again.”
“Again? What are you talking about?” Brock said incredulously. “Every week, you’ve got me on the run for the whole bout, barely surviving and rarely even touching you. It usually ends when I slip up and you whack me a good one. I got lucky one time and that was because you stumbled.”
“Well, you did get me,” Cam said with a smile.
Brock rolled his eyes, pulling his vest over his head and stuffing it into his laundry bag.
“In addition to not sparring with you, I’m looking forward to the battle tactics session tomorrow. It’s become quite interesting.” Brock sat on the bench to remove his boots. “At first, I didn’t understand the dynamics, but it’s grown on me. It’s like a puzzle. It seems like a jumbled mess at first, but when you understand how the pieces fit together, it’s beautiful.”
Cam snorted. “Well, maybe you can help me because I’m still struggling with that stuff.”
“Like what?” Brock asked, pulling his other boot off. “Do you mean terrain advantages? Or maybe the strengths and weaknesses of different military units? Or about field feints and positioning?”
Cam shrugged, “All of it, I guess.”
Brock began to remove his breeches. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you with tactics if you don’t end up killing me when we spar.” He flashed a smile at his large roommate.
“That works for me,” Cam replied, his face serious. “I won’t kill you, then.”
CHAPTER 68
It was getting late. While the sun set much earlier in the winter, it had been down for hours. Brock and Benny sat in the otherwise empty lounge, each hunched over a thick tome.
Brock stared at the gibberish scrawled on the pages of the book he had found. Between the symbols and the foreign text, he had no idea what he was looking at. The characters used were so fundamentally different that had no idea where to begin.
A sigh escaped as he sat back in his chair. He took a sip of his caffe, which had gone cold while he focused on the translation. After looking over his pointless notes, he crumpled the paper into a ball in frustration.
“Why, why, why?” Brock slammed the book closed. “Why would he leave this for me if there’s no way to understand it?”
“I don’t know, Brock.” Benny sat up, stretching his neck. “Remember that the book was put there hundreds of years ago. Maybe the language that’s used was common back then.”
Brock rubbed his weary eyes. They had been at this for a few nights. While Benny made progress in his research on the Banished Horde, Brock struggled. Benny offered to take over, but Brock told him that he felt a connection to the message and that it was something he needed to do.
“At least you’re making progress.” Brock pointed at Benny’s notes. “What’ve you found tonight?”
Benny started, as if his mind had been elsewhere. “What? Oh, right.” He picked up his paper, looking at the notes. “Well, I’ve pinned down the first recorded sighting of the Horde.”
Brock’s brow raised. “That’s interesting.”
Benny nodded. “There was a woodsman hunting in the mountains of southern Kalimar who stumbled upon a group of perhaps a hundred of the Horde. He was careful to stay hidden until they moved on. The next day, he reported the sighting to the baron of a nearby coastal city. Of course, the baron called the man’s story about such monsters Either a fantastical tale intended to frighten children or the ravings of a lunatic. Because the story had been reported during an official court session, a court scribe duly recorded it. It wasn’t until years later, in the rubble of this destroyed city, that the records were found.”
“Amazing.” Brock observed. “Such an early warning, totally ignored. Who knows how things could have gone if the baron had just sent a squad to investigate.”
Benny nodded. “The author of this book gathered similar records over the period of eight years following the war. The fact that he was able to gather these pieces and pull together a somewhat cohesive story is amazing.”
Brock’s eyes narrowed. “If that was the first sighting of the Horde, how did they get inland without someone seeing them land along the coast?”
Benny shrugged. “I don’t know. In fact, the author asks the same question. He confirmed that after all of his research, he could never determine where the Horde came from.”
That was depressing. Brock had hoped to have that question answered.
“Well, you keep reading and taking notes,” he said. “We’ll take what we can get from this book and then look for more answers elsewhere.”
Benny nodded his agreement.
Gazing down at his book, Brock traced his finger around the starburst symbol on the cover. He flipped it open, looking at the messages written inside. One note was gibberish, the other he had read a dozen times over.
“Why would he leave this for us to find without some way to understand it?”
As Brock’s mind drifted, his tired eyes stared at the pages before him, losing focus in his weariness. The letters blurred until each word became a block of text. He stared at the rows of blurry blocks lined across the page. Two blocks in the first row, twenty in the second, seventeen in the third, and three in the fourth. He glanced over at the other page, seeing the same rows of blurry blocks. He sat upright, leaning closer when he noticed the number of words in each row was identical from one message to the other.
Excited, he grabbed a clean sheet of paper and began copying the gibberish from the first message. After recording the first paragraph, he did the same from the message that he could read, directly above the one he had just written.
”What is it, Brock?” Benny asked.
Feeling thrilled, Brock’s pulse quickened with excitement. He considered what he had written, recognizing one of the symbols. He now knew what it meant.
“Brock? Aren’t you going to answer me?”
He smiled at Benny. “I’ve got it, Benny. It was right in front of me the w
hole time. He did leave us the key.” He tapped on the open book before him.
“What are you talking about? Did you figure out one of the symbols?” Benny asked.
Brock nodded. “Yes, and a lot more. I found the key, Benny. Both of these messages are the same. They’re exactly the same. If you understand one of them, you can figure the other one out. It’s the translation.”
A goofy grin crossed Benny’s face.
“I now know what the book is about.” Brock closed the book, tapping on the symbol engraved in cover. “This symbol is the title, Benny. The book is about Chaos.”
PART VI: CHAOS
CHAPTER 69
“I still don’t understand,” Benny said. “What is Chaos?”
Brock leaned across the table. “Hush. Not so loud.”
He glanced around, thankful that nobody but Cam was paying attention. Spotting a novice bringing a tray of food over, he waited to respond. The student with the tray was Hamish, the same boy who had the broken arm healed on the first day of school.
Brock thanked him as Hamish set the tray on the table. Parker was among the other novices delivering trays to students sitting nearby. When Parker’s eyes met Brock’s, he gave a brief nod before returning to the kitchen. Hoping to remain in political favor, Parker had opted to continue sitting with Corbin rather than accepting the privilege of eating early.
Left alone again, Brock leaned toward Benny. “I don’t know what it is. However, I hope we can find out soon. Regardless, I suggest we keep it secret until we know more. Got it?”
Benny nodded. “Got it.” He picked up his fork, holding it above his food. “But I wish I knew what it was and what it means to us. The note makes it seem…important. Important but dangerous.”
“That’s even more reason to keep it quiet,” Brock said.
He looked at Cameron, who nodded while scooping food into his mouth.
“Stay quiet like Cam here. He’s a good example.”
Benny snorted. “If I were to be like him, the only words you’d hear from me would be: I’m hungry.” He spoke in a low voice, sitting tall as he mimicked Cam. “That is until after I finish my meal and then it’s I’m still hungry.”
When Benny did his imitation of Cam, Lars burst out laughing.
“That was good, Benny.” Lars pointed across the table. “He’s got you figured out, Cam.”
Brock chuckled. Cam shrugged.
Swallowing his food, Brock shifted to another subject.
“Winter Break starts the day after tomorrow. What are you guys planning for your time off?”
As usual, Benny responded first. “I’m staying here and doing some serious reading.” He winked at Brock, causing his spectacles to twitch.
Brock looked toward Cam, whose plate was mostly empty. He held a fork full of food before his mouth as he paused to respond.
“I’m just hanging here, I guess. I need to study those books on tactics we found at the library.” Cam shrugged. “I’ll work on my sword forms, too.”
“I should’ve guessed. What about you, Lars?” Brock asked the newest member of the group.
Lars shrugged. “Pretty much the same as Cam here. I recently started using the great sword; it’s a lot different than the longsword I had been using. I’m still getting used to having no shield for blocking.”
Again, Brock nodded. None of those responses surprised him.
“What about you, Brock?” Benny asked. “What are you doing with your time off?”
He swallowed before replying. “I’m heading to Fallbrandt for a couple days. I haven’t seen Tipper for about three months.” He smiled, missing his long-time friend. “I’m going to ask Ashland if she wants to come with me.” His grin grew larger.
“Oh, Brock. You sly devil!” Benny chuckled. The other two boys joined him at Brock’s expense.
Out of the group, Brock was the only one who had a girlfriend. He kept it secret for a while, but keeping relationships secret at the Academy was difficult at best. Some would say impossible.
“Yes. I know. You guys just wait until some girl finds her way into your heart.” He quieted, his demeanor changing. “It’s amazing. You find yourself longing to be with her as if you’re missing a limb and aren’t whole unless she’s with you.”
The three boys listened intently, remaining quiet until Benny spoke.
“Wait. You’re saying that being in love is like you’ve been through an amputation?” Benny shook his head. “No, thank you.”
The others stared at Benny, who was still shaking his head seriously. A burst of laughter came from Lars, who gave Benny a friendly slap on the back. The smaller boy’s spectacles flew off, landing in his potatoes and gravy. Brock and Cameron joined Lars, all three laughing heartily. Benny looked up from his plate, his hair disheveled, and began to chuckle along with the others.
CHAPTER 70
As often happens in the low mountains, the snow melted after a few consecutive days of sun. The road to Fallbrandt was now a brown stripe running through the white fields before the Academy. Even the snow pack of the fields had dwindled; brown grass poking through everywhere you looked.
While Brock and Ashland traveled the gravel roadway, their path meandered in an effort to avoid puddles and muddy spots. Even then, their boots were filthy, and splatters of mud streaked the lower half of their trousers.
The ground was far less muddy where the road cut through the forest. The nearly constant shade of the thick evergreens kept the road mostly frozen. They were thankful for the cleaner road section until they reached the edge of the woods.
As they emerged from the thick trees outside of town, Brock’s boot slipped on an icy patch and he tumbled. To make matters worse, Ashland’s arm was looped in his, causing her to be pulled down with him. He landed on his back with her on top.
He hit the ground hard, the air blasting from his lungs. His back stung, but he focused on Ashland. She stared down at him in surprise and then began to giggle. He smiled, chuckling to himself. She snuck a quick kiss and rolled off him.
Brock sat upright, realizing they were both sitting in mud. Glancing over to see a horrified look on her face, he began laughing again.
“Now, I’m a filthy mess!” she complained. “I don’t have anything else to wear!”
She slapped him on the leg as he laughed harder.
Pushing off on a dry spot on the road, he stood. Once upright, he held his hand toward her. She eyed him warily.
“Don’t worry. Dory will find something for you to wear. I promise,” he replied.
After a moment, she relented. “If you promise.”
He pulled Ashland to her feet. Stepping around the mud, she continued into town. Seeing her backside gave him an idea of how muddy he was. He would need a change of clothes himself.
When he caught up to her, he offered his arm.
“Oh, no. I’m not letting you pull me into the mud again,” she said.
He laughed. “You do know that wasn’t intentional, right?”
She glanced toward him, a small smile on her face. “So you say.”
“Okay. Now you’re just teasing me,” he said, smiling back.
“Perhaps. Or, maybe I’m just a mystery to you.” She smiled again.
“I wouldn’t use the word just in any description about you,” Brock replied. “But there’s no doubt you’re a mystery to me. It’s a mystery how you make me love you so much.”
His throat tightened. He hadn’t meant to say it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her; he just didn’t think he should say it. Not yet. He was terrified she might not feel the same way.
Ashland stopped walking. Brock took two more steps then stopped, glancing back at her.
“What is it?” he asked, trying to sound oblivious.
“You love me?” she said.
“What?”
“You said that you love me,” she persisted.
“Well, I guess I did say that.”
She took a step to close the dis
tance. Quietly, she asked, “Did you mean it? Is that how you feel? Please don’t lie to me, Brock.”
He swallowed hard as he stared into her eyes. “Yes,” he replied, exposing how he felt. “I love you. I love you more than anything. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
There it was, out in the open. No turning back. A quiet moment of incredible tension stretched out as he waited for her response.
A lone tear streaked down her cheek. She grabbed him, hugging him hard with her head buried in his shoulder. He held her, far more gently than she squeezed him. While he enjoyed the hug, he still wasn’t sure of what was happening.
She released her grip, lifting her head to gaze at him with moist eyes.
“I love you too, Brock.” A smile blossomed on her face. “You make me so happy.”
They kissed for a long moment, right in the middle of the road. It was even sweeter than normal as their emotion enhanced the moment. Lost in the kiss, they were oblivious to the world around them, to the roaring thunder of horses approaching.
“Look out!”
Brock turned in the direction of the shout to see a carriage speeding toward them, the driver waving his arms wildly. He grabbed Ashland and jumped to the side, pulling her with him. The carriage sped past, leaving them panting from adrenaline as they watched it speed through Fallbrandt.
“I wonder what the hurry is. That guy almost killed us,” he said.
“Who knows?” she replied. “I noticed that it was a Ministry carriage though.”
Brock took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go get cleaned up. I can’t wait for you to meet Tipper.”
. . .
Still covered in mud, Brock stopped just inside the door. James looked up from the bar upon hearing them enter.
“Brock!” James smiled. “It’s good to see you. It’s been what? Two months?”
Brock smiled. “Hiya, James. It’s been over three months now.”
The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) Page 24