The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  James walked to the end of the bar. “More than three months, huh? I guess time goes fast when life is good.” He poked his head into the kitchen. “Dory! Your favorite boy is back!”

  Dory strolled through the door a moment later, looking as elegant as ever.

  “Brock!” She smiled as she crossed the room. “My, how we’ve missed you. I’m so glad you decided to visit. Now come here and give me a hug.”

  “Um….Well.” He pointed at his filthy boots and spun so to show the extent of the mud on his backside. “We had a little incident.”

  “Oh my. You sure did. In that case, stay there for now.” Her eyes shifted to Ashland, scanning her from head to toe. “And who’s this pretty thing?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” He put his arm around Ashland. “This is Ashland. She’s my girlfriend.”

  Ashland smiled at him before addressing Dory. “Dory, it’s so wonderful to meet you. Brock clearly thinks the world of you, and I happen to believe he’s an excellent judge of character.”

  Dory stepped forward, grabbing Ashland’s hands in hers. “My, aren’t you precious?” She looked Ashland up and down again. “This won’t do. Tsk, tsk. This won’t do at all. We need to get you cleaned up.” Dory turned her head and shouted. “Libby, get the bath ready!”

  Brock pointed at his backside. “What about me? I need to get cleaned up too.”

  Dory glanced at him before refocusing on Ashland. “Oh, please. You can bathe later. For now, go around back and tell Tipper that you need his robe. Give him those dirty boots to clean and your clothes for Libby to launder. You can wear the robe until it’s your turn for the baths.”

  Dory dropped one of Ashland’s hands, holding tight to the other as she led her toward the baths. Ashland glanced back, her eyes locking with Brock’s before she disappeared through the doorway.

  Brock sighed and stepped outside to find Tipper. The sun was now obscured behind a layer of gray winter clouds, leaving a chill in the air. He tracked through the ankle-high snow around the side of the inn. When he reached the stable yard, he circled the building and knocked. The door opened a crack, a familiar set of eyes peeking out.

  “Brock!” Tipper exclaimed, opening the door wide to give him a hug.

  “I’m glad to see you, Tip,” he said. “Sorry it’s been so long.”

  CHAPTER 71

  Brock sat at Dory’s table, accompanying the women he had eaten with numerous times before. Though it was now snowing heavily, the dining room was full. Dory told him that word had spread that he was back in town, bringing the women out to see him. When asked how they had heard so quickly, she confessed that she was the one who initiated the message.

  After bathing, he borrowed one of Garrett’s outfits to wear for the evening. Once clean and dressed, he asked about Ashland. Dory told him that Ashland was preparing for dinner and he would have to wait until she was ready.

  As if they had been going withdrawal, the ladies around the table begged Brock to tell a story. After some feminine coaxing, he agreed. Dory called for the room to quiet and made him stand so everyone could hear.

  While he was aware that the Academy kept many things secret, he expected that everyone had heard of the yearly Catapult Challenge. When he began his story, nods about the room confirmed his assumption.

  Brock relayed his tale, building up to the moment of the big launch. He paused for a breath but the words he had prepared never left his lips. Instead, his jaw dropped as he stared toward the stairwell. Heads in the room turned to see what had captured his attention.

  Ashland smiled from the stairs, halfway descended. Her brown curls tumbled to her shoulders, perfectly framing her beautiful face. The black dress she wore had sleeves that wrapped around her upper arm and exposed her shoulders. The dress fit tight in the waist and accentuated her curves in a way that Brock greatly appreciated. Her well-toned legs were exposed to just above the knee, mesmerizing him as she descended the stairs.

  When she reached the floor, he stepped forward to meet her. He couldn’t resist a glance at the cleavage revealed by the low neckline. Seeing him glance at her chest, she did the same, giving him a shy shrug when their gaze met again. Brock took her hands in his.

  “You look gorgeous.” He wanted to pull her close for a kiss, but somehow resisted the urge.

  “Thank you, Brock. You look quite handsome yourself,” she replied.

  Summoning the will to break his focus from Ashland, he turned toward the room.

  “Everyone, this is Ashland. She’s quite special to me. I would appreciate it if you’d show her the same hospitality you’ve shown me.”

  He turned to face her. “Ashland, please meet my good friends, the customers of The Quiet Woman.”

  Ashland flashed a smile to the crowd and waved. Everyone clapped, shouting greetings to the newcomer. Brock led Ashland to her chair at Dory’s table, pulling it out for her to sit. As Ashland took her seat, Dory stood and spoke.

  “Now that our guests of honor are here, dinner will soon be served.” She waved her hand in the air. “Garrett, please pour this young lady a glass of wine. Also, do fill the other glasses as well.”

  With glasses filled, Dory lifted hers high. “To Brock and his young love: May Issal guide them to happiness.” The women mimicked her words as glasses connected.

  After the toast, he leaned in and whispered in Ashland’s ear. “You look stunning. By the way, have you had wine before?”

  Ashland whispered back. “No. It’s…interesting. Not too bad though.”

  He smiled. “Warms you on the inside, right?”

  She nodded, smiling at him. Her hand rested on his leg. He didn’t want to move.

  “Brock.” Dory spoke over the buzz of conversation. “I believe you have a story to finish.”

  “Yeah, right,” he replied, Ashland removing her hand as he stood.

  The room quieted, and he resumed his telling.

  “After my rival’s team broke the school launch record, it was my team’s turn. We wheeled our much smaller catapult to the launch line. My teammates cranked the launch arm and set the heavy projectile into the launch basket. The metal ball,” he held his hands a foot apart, “weighed about the same as a small adult.”

  “Everyone stepped back, leaving me alone with the loaded catapult. The judge yelled, Fire! I pulled the release and something crazy happened. The coiled energy in the catapult caused it to jump off the ground, higher than the ceiling above you. I dove out of the way, rolling to my feet to see the catapult land right where I had been standing.”

  Brock paused for the buzz that ran through the room.

  “Luckily, I was fine. However, it was now dead quiet. The heavy metal ball was nowhere to be seen. I scanned the field, looking for a sign of the projectile but saw nothing. A feeling of frustration began to grip my insides. I couldn’t let him win. I searched harder when a cloud of gray dust suddenly billowed into the air. The heavy ball had finally landed, blasting a huge hole in the wall of the Academy, over two miles away.”

  The room erupted in amazement. It continued for a while before Dory could calm the room. Once quiet, Brock continued.

  “Having launched the heavy ball such an amazing distance resulted in our team winning the event. However, we were also required to clean the mess we had created and pay for the repairs. The effort consumed my life for almost a month, which left little time to spend with Ashland.”

  He ended the sentence looking down at his radiant girlfriend. Her smile beamed back up at him. Heartfelt sighs echoed from the women in the room.

  “I’m still trying to make it up to her.” He returned to his chair.

  Applause rumbled through the crowded room, followed by the hum of chatter as the women discussed the story.

  Annabelle leaned toward him, putting her hand on his arm. “My Brock. As usual, your stories are incredible yet ring of truth. I heard of the damage that struck the girls’ tower from Abe, but he never told me what caused it.”

  Ti
na chimed in, “Yes. I heard about it from Marcus Sprill and his crew of masons. He described the damage and how lucrative the job was for him. He even mentioned a helpful group of boys assisting with the repairs.”

  Dory nodded. “As you can see, while Brock tells some amazing tales, they’re neither works of his imagination nor embellishments.” She turned toward Ashland as she spoke. “I’m sure you’re aware that Brock is special. He lives a charmed life, on a path that will surely lead to greatness. He could use the support of a strong, beautiful woman at his side.”

  Ashland nodded, realizing that Dory was addressing her.

  Their conversation was interrupted as Garrett and Saul began setting plates on the table. The steam rising from the steak and steamed vegetables made Brock’s mouth water.

  “This looks delicious.” Ashland noted.

  “I’m positive that it will taste as good as it looks,” Brock replied. “Saul is the most talented cook I’ve ever known.”

  CHAPTER 72

  Shortly after dinner, Brock and Ashland excused themselves to join Tipper and Libby at their table in the back of the room.

  Brock introduced Ashland, whom Tipper greeted with a hug. Libby informed him that she was already acquainted with Ashland after helping her with the bath and getting her prepared for dinner. After the greetings, they engaged in conversation over a glass of wine.

  As usual, Libby was quiet. Brock noted that her reserved nature was a fair contrast to Tipper’s friendly chatter. She eventually interjected, asking Brock a question that had apparently been on her mind.

  “Is it true that your catapult launched a big metal ball over two miles?” she asked, tucking her long black hair behind an ear.

  Before he could respond, Ashland spoke.

  “I was there and saw the whole thing. The story Brock told earlier, if anything, was understated. When the catapult launched, jumping in the air like that, I feared for his life. I stood as tall as I could, trying to see if he was okay. After seeing him standing with his friends, I turned toward the field to see where the steel ball landed. When it hit the tower and everyone realized what they had seen, things got crazy.” She smiled as she spoke. “Students still talk about it in the halls. The engineering masters are out of their minds about it, trying to understand how it was possible. They even confiscated the catapult and the ball. Despite dozens of repeated attempts, I hear they can barely fire it more than 1000 feet. The other masters seem amused by their persistence over the whole thing.”

  Tipper nodded, turning toward Libby. “That’s what Brock told me earlier today when he first described the incident. The story is true.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain how it happened,” Libby protested.

  “Libby, I don’t understand it myself,” Brock replied. “The engineering masters’ inability to reproduce the results using the same catapult and ball makes it even more bewildering.”

  The conversation grew quiet with nothing more to say on the subject. Ashland asked a question in another direction.

  “Brock, how did you and Tipper…become friends?” Ashland asked before turning toward Tipper. “Please take no offense, but it is exceedingly rare for an Unchosen…to be held in such high regard by someone with a rune, especially if that someone has the mark of Issal.”

  Brock’s eyes locked on Tipper’s. Tipper was the one person who knew the truth about his past. He had never lied to Ashland, and he didn’t want to start now. He cleared his throat, about to speak when Tipper interrupted.

  “I never met my father,” Tipper began. “As you might expect, my mother was Unchosen. When I was a baby, she decided that selling her body was the only way to support the two of us. She and I lived in a brothel in Lower Kantar for years. It wasn’t so bad. I had chores, of course, but I had food and a roof over my head. Men came and went, none ever looking at her as more than a piece of meat. Some beat her. Others fled after the coupling, refusing to pay for what she had to endure. As I grew older, I began to realize that it was tearing her apart, but we never spoke of it. She had no other solution given her limited options.”

  Tipper’s eyes were unfocused, distant as he spoke of the past. “When I was eleven, she became ill. At first, it was just strange behavior. But it soon became far more than that. It was as if her brain was falling apart. She had delusions, ranting and raving about this or that. In a matter of weeks, became a psychotic animal. We were kicked out of the brothel, left to live on the streets. Two days later, I woke in an alley next to my mother’s cold, dead body.”

  Clearly feeling old emotions returning, tears began to cloud Tipper’s eyes.

  “I learned to survive on my own, often the hard way. I slept in crates, scavenged food where I could, and somehow made it on my own for six months without ending up dead or in jail. Then a steady round of cold winter rain hit the coast. For days it rained. Try as I might, I couldn’t stay dry. Being wet on those cold nights must’ve been too much for my undernourished body. I became ill, coughing so hard that I would spit blood. Soon, the fever became too much. Weak and alone, I curled up in a crate to die.”

  Tipper looked down, a tear tracking down his face.

  “That’s when Brock found me. I was too far out of it to remember myself, but he took me in to nurse me back to health. I woke two days later, the fever gone and only a heavy cough remaining. With a steady diet of soup and other liquids, I was soon healthy. That’s when his father found me hiding in their loft. Brock and his Aunt Ellie had kept it a secret as long as they could. His father told him I couldn’t stay and had to be out by sunset, but by that time, I was healthy. Since then, Brock has been my best friend, always watching out for me. He somehow got me out of jail both times I was caught for stealing food. He would bring me something to eat every time he saw me, whatever morsel he could take without his father noticing. He gave me clothes. He gave me his friendship. Thanks to his annoyingly positive attitude, he even gave me hope when I had no right to hope. This past summer he brought me here.” Tipper gestured to the room around them. “Now I have a job. I have a room of my own with hot meals every day. Best of all, I have a beautiful girlfriend.” He squeezed Libby close as she rested her head on his shoulder.

  Ashland wiped her eyes dry as her other hand squeezed Brock’s.

  “Thank you for sharing your story, Tipper.” Ashland told him sincerely. “I’m glad your life has taken a better turn. Take care of Libby. She’s a nice girl.”

  Tipper nodded back, smiling as Libby snuggled against him.

  Ashland turned to Brock. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’m sorry for how coldly I treated you when we first met.” She looked down at their clasped hands as she spoke. “I…I guess I thought you’d be pretentious like others at the Academy. Many have had everything in life handed to them. They lack compassion and perspective.” She looked into his eyes. “As I grow to know you, I realize I was wrong. I realize that you’re exactly the kind of person I was looking for. After tonight, I realize it more than ever. I love you with all my heart, Brock Talenz.”

  He smiled. “I love you too, Ashland Pym.”

  Ashland leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. She turned to Tipper and Libby.

  “Well, it’s late. We’ve had a long day. It’s time to say goodnight.”

  Ashland stood, looking at Brock expectantly.

  “Goodnight Tip, Libby. We’ll see you at breakfast,” he said as he stood.

  He followed Ashland toward the stairwell, hesitating when he remembering something.

  “Oh, wait. I haven’t gotten a room yet.”

  Ashland took his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I have a room.”

  She continued up the stairs with an anxious Brock in tow.

  CHAPTER 73

  They woke as one the next morning; Ashland’s shifting causing Brock to stir. Glancing out the window, he could only see white through the frosted panes. He gave her a kiss and slid out of bed. She lay under the sheets as he got dressed.

  “Are you
coming down for breakfast?” he asked as he pulled his trousers up.

  “I will in a bit. I need some time to clean up,” she replied. “A girl needs to be presentable you know.”

  “I think you look great right now,” he replied, flashing a devious smile. “Especially without those sheets.”

  She laughed and threw a pillow at him. “You’re horrible.”

  He caught the pillow and sat on the bed, leaning in for a kiss. Before it got too far, she pushed him away.

  “You’d better go before we get started again,” she said.

  He smiled. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He scooped his shirt off the floor, pulled it over his head, and laced the collar. After sliding his feet into his boots, he walked to the door. He turned to face her before he opened it.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  She nodded, and he slipped out of the room.

  As Brock descended the stairs, the front door opened, blowing snow into the entryway. Tipper followed behind, stamping snow off his feet.

  “It looks like it’s coming down pretty hard out there.” Brock remarked.

  Tipper looked up at him. “G’morning, Brock. Yeah, it’s more snow than I thought I’d ever see. I know that’s not saying much since the first time I touched snow was only a few weeks back, but it’s crazy out there. It’s already well past my knees. I just finished shoveling a path to the road. Dory says if it keeps coming down like this, I’ll have to shovel the roof. Can you believe that? Shoveling snow off a two-story roof?” Tipper shook his head. “I never thought it was a thing, let alone that I’d be doing it myself.”

  Brock reached the bottom of the stairs, looking around the empty room.

  “I’m pretty sure that Ashland and I are the only ones in the rooms upstairs. The weather will likely keep everyone else home, so it’ll be a quiet morning. Do you want to eat with us?”

  Tipper nodded, clumps of snow falling on the floor. “Yes, definitely. Let me get the snow off and I’ll join you. I’ll see if Libby is free as well.”