Engineering class had transitioned to new concepts. As usual, Nindlerod started with theory in the classroom, presenting the basic principles involved. As usual, most of the class failed to grasp the instruction. When they moved into the Foundry, he used demonstrations that helped them better understand the concept. As always, Benny embraced every new subject with excitement and enthusiasm.
When Nindlerod announced another competition coming in the spring, Benny was thrilled. This contest was wide open, allowing any student interested to present an invention of his or her choosing. Each creation would be judged for its potential uses and ingenuity. Like the previous contest, gold was awarded for the winning design.
At dinner that evening, Benny proclaimed that he was working on an invention that would help him win and make him famous. When Brock asked for details, Benny stated that he needed to finish his design before he revealed anything.
Brock and Benny later met in the boys’ lounge to discuss the progress they had made in their research. Each with a cup of caffe in hand, the two boys sat alone at a table away from the other students in the lounge. Benny brought the notes from his research on the Wailing War. Brock did the same on his translation of the book on Chaos.
“I’m over halfway through the book now,” Benny said. “I’ve found a few interesting things of note about the Horde. First, they attack almost exclusively at night. In fact, fighting during the day seems to be a weakness of some sort. Thus far, they still have crushed every city and kingdom force they faced, so that weakness hasn’t come into play. In a matter of months, they had completely overrun the eastern kingdoms. I’m now at the part where the kingdoms of the west have acknowledged that they have to do something. However, they refused the first overture to band together under the Ministry’s leadership. It seems they were fearful and distrustful of the others.”
Brock nodded. “That pretty much aligns with the stories we’ve been told. Only the note about the Horde attacking at night seems to be something new. I wonder what it means.”
Benny shrugged again. “I’ve no idea.”
As Brock reflected on the information, Benny slipped his notes into his thick book. He then turned to Brock with an eyebrow raised.
“Did you hear about Salina?”
“Salina? The girl in our Engineering class?” Brock asked.
Benny nodded. “Yeah. She disappeared during winter break and hasn’t been seen since.”
Brock’s brow furrowed. “Disappeared?”
“Yeah. I thought it was odd too, but I was told that one or two students disappear every year,” Benny said. “I guess they give up and go home or something. Still seems weird to me.”
Brock nodded. He couldn’t imagine quitting on his dream.
Benny poked Brock. “Okay. It’s your turn. What have you found?”
Brock pulled his notes out, glancing at them before he spoke. “Well, I can tell you that it’s slow going. Translating one word at a time and only having the key for one word in four is difficult, as you know.”
Brock tapped on the thick book with one finger. “I’ve made some progress, though. It appears that this book was intended to help others understand Chaos and instruct them on how to use it.”
Benny nodded. “Good. I’d hoped as much.”
“Many of the sentences contain nothing of note. They only frame the subject or provide unnecessary details. Of course, there are many words that I can’t translate at all. More importantly, as I progress, I’ve been able to use deduction to fill in some gaps. The list of translated words and symbols is now twice what it was when we started.”
Benny grew excited. “That’s great, Brock. It’ll take a while, but we should eventually be able to translate most of the words.”
Brock nodded. “Yes, but we’re still many days from reaching that point.” He tapped on the book. “We still have a few hours before we need to sleep. You get to reading, and I’ll see if I can get another page or two translated.”
Benny nodded. “Good idea.”
The two boys ended up working late into the night, far later than they had planned.
CHAPTER 77
Master Budakis nodded. “Good! Very good.” He walked the floor, watching students going through their forms. “Okay, now stop and assemble at attention.”
The students formed a line stretching across the Arena floor. Budakis examined the stance of each student, nodding in satisfaction as he paced down the line.
“We’re now well past the mid-point of the school year. I’ve watched you transform since your first day.” He stood before them with his hands clasped behind his back and his barrel-like chest thrust out. “From a pathetic beginning, you’ve grown fit and strong. While some will always be better than others in combat, you can at least defend yourself against an unskilled opponent. A few of you might even present a challenge to a master paladin.”
Budakis continued as he again paced along the line. “Thus far, you’ve only sparred against the students in this group. You have a feel for how your skills compare against those who stand beside you. I’m happy to tell you that will soon change.”
He smiled before continuing.
“In three weeks, we will hold a three-day tournament, marking the end of the winter season. In this competition, some of you will get to measure your skills against the best the Academy has to offer. The winner of the tournament will be crowned this year’s Arena Champion.”
He paused again, letting these words sink in. “However, we cannot let everyone into this tournament. Your weekly sparring matches have helped me determine which of you have the skills to compete. When I call your name, please step forward.”
Reaching into his waistband, he pulled out a sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he began reading names off. As Brock expected, Cameron and Lars were both among those listed. As he feared, his own name was also on the list. When Budakis was finished, only eight of the sixty students had been called.
He folded the paper and addressed the class. “Everyone who hasn’t been called is excused.”
Budakis watched the students shuffle toward the changing rooms. Brock and the others who were selected, six boys and two girls, stood at attention as they waited for what came next. Once the floor cleared, Budakis addressed them.
“Congratulations. You’ve been selected to participate in this year’s Arena Championship. This is your chance to prove your skills to the whole school.” His arms spread wide, his body rotating as he spoke. “These stands will be filled with fellow students and masters, cheering you on. You’ll feel an energy in this building like never before. When you stand victorious over an opponent, backed by the roar of the crowd, it’s a high like no other.”
He lowered his arms and flashed a big grin. “Of course, for every winner, there’s also a loser. It isn’t grand to be publicly embarrassed in front of your peers. That’s why you should focus on your training for the next three weeks.” He stared hard at the small group of students. “As a little incentive, each student will also earn one silver for every victory. If you advance to the finals, you get a bonus of one gold imperial. If you somehow find yourself crowned Arena Champion, not only does your name join the names of past champions, but you’ll be also awarded an additional three gold imperials.”
Brock glanced at Cameron. The tall boy’s face was stoic, focused.
Budakis smiled again. “Now that you know what to expect and why you need to prepare, you’re dismissed.”
CHAPTER 78
Brock stepped from the changing room to the roar of the crowd. Being the shortest, he was the first to exit. Corbin Ringholdt was the last since he was just a hair taller than Cameron.
With his helmet under one arm and quarterstaff clutched in the other hand, Brock led the group onto the Arena floor. The crowd was peppered with clumps of purple cloaks among a sea of blue. His eyes settled on one student in the front row. Ashland told him that she had volunteered for healing duty, knowing he would be competing. While she explained th
at it was a way to guarantee a premium seat, he suspected that she was sure he would be injured and wanted to be there to heal him.
He came to a stop, turning to face the crowd. The thirty-one other novice contestants lined up with him down the center of the floor. He was at one end of the line; the seven girls among the group were at the other end, past where Corbin stood waving to the crowd. A prickle of anger began to simmer as Brock watched his rival bask in the applause as if it were all for him.
Master Budakis and Master Kardan, who trained the apprentice and adept-level students, marched in and stopped between the contestants and the crowd. The masters made a motion for the crowd to be still. As the building quieted, Headmaster Vandermark stepped forward to stand between the two master paladins.
Vandermark raised his arms to greet the audience. “Welcome to our annual Arena Championship. Over the next three days, you will be treated to a series of duels involving the fiercest fighters at the Academy. For safety purposes, only wooden weapons will be used. However, I assure you that each bout will be filled with action and intensity as if the fighters were battling for their very lives.”
He gestured to the two men standing with him. “Master Budakis and Master Kardan will be the officials for this year’s tournament.” He turned to Budakis. “Master paladin, the floor is yours.”
As Vandermark departed, Budakis raised his arms and shouted.
“Listen up! I’m only going to explain the rules once.” He glanced back at the contestants before turning to face the crowd. “This event will feature sixty-four of the best fighters at the Academy. Behind me are the first thirty-two entrants, all novice-level students. However, do not let their inexperience fool you. Trust me when I say that there is a high level of skill among this group, perhaps enough to win it all.”
“Pairings for each round will be assigned by way of lottery. Once a pairing is set, the contestants will duel for the right to advance. Duels will continue until one of following occurs.” Budakis held up a single finger. “A combatant is rendered unconscious.” He raised a second finger. “A contestant has had a major bone broken.” A third finger joined the others. “An official calls a contestant out due to his or her inability to mount a reasonable defense. The winner of each bout will advance to the next round.”
Pausing briefly, Budakis continued. “Today, you will be treated to four rounds of intense duels to determine the top two novice-level warriors. Tomorrow’s contest will involve the apprentice-level and adept-level contestants. Day three will pit the top two warriors from each day in the climatic finals where the winner will be awarded the title of Arena Champion.”
The crowd cheered in anticipation. Budakis waved the contestants to the benches near the changing rooms. Brock sat on a bench next to Cameron, trying to relax despite his fluttering stomach.
Two minutes later, Vandermark stepped to the center of the floor and waved his arms to quiet the crowd. He called out the names of eight contestants, both Cam and Lars among those called. Brock watched his friends and six others cluster near Vandermark before splitting off in twos. Each pair settled into position at the four outer circles painted on the Arena floor. Three other circles were spaced along the center of the floor, remaining empty until later rounds.
The four pairs stood ready, waiting for the signal to begin. Budakis stood on one end of the floor, prepared to monitor the two nearest duels. Kardan stood on the other end, prepared to do the same. Vandermark nodded, and his assistant began to swing a bell, the sound ringing throughout the building. The contestants sprang into action and the crowd roared.
Brock focused on Cameron, curious to see how others would fare against his massive roommate. Cam’s opponent danced around, waving his short sword as he held his shield high and ready. In contrast, Cam held his longsword low and steady as he calmly moved with his opponent. Brock judged Cam to be five or six inches taller than the other boy, which increased the extended reach his longsword had over his opponent’s short sword.
Cam’s foe stepped forward with a playful swipe. Brock assumed he was testing Cam, which was a major mistake.
As soon as the move was initiated, Cam made a lunge to close the gap even further. He swatted the sword aside with his shield. With blinding speed, he made a low swing with his longsword, the tip rotating up as it came around. Brock noticed that Cam’s opponent held his shield too high. Before he could lower it, the blunt tip of Cam’s sword slammed into the boy’s midsection. The boy collapsed in agony, and the crowd went wild.
Budakis called the bout. A healer descended the stairs as Cam helped his opponent to his feet.
Brock shifted his attention to Lars, who was having a bit of trouble getting a clean hit on the girl he was facing. Much like Brock, she used a quarterstaff and relied on quickness. Dodging the slow strokes of Lars’ great sword, she would strike when he overextended. She hit him hard on the leg, but he held. She thumped him in the gut, forcing Lars to double over, but he recovered.
Taking another shot to his midsection, Lars clutched his stomach while breathing heavily. Sensing her advantage, she made a move. As she stepped forward, Lars lunged with a wide arcing strike at her midsection. She twisted her staff to block the strike but both of her hands were above the point of contact. Like a stick trying to stop a rolling boulder, the great sword hammered the staff aside as it rotated in her hands. The sword smashed into the girl’s hip, launching her sideways to land two strides away.
Again, the crowd erupted at the display of violence. The bout was called, and Lars bent to check on his downed foe. Rather than helping her up, he waved for a healer. Having already descended the stairs, Ashland came running over. A minute later, they helped the girl to her feet and walked her off the floor.
By that time, the other two bouts had finished. One of the losers had been rendered unconscious and was carried away. The other had a broken arm that was soon healed.
Cameron reclaimed his seat next to Brock.
“Nice job, Cam,” Brock said. “I hope you didn’t break a sweat out there.”
Cam flashed a smile as he yanked off his helmet. “I doubt my other matches will be that easy. I got lucky.”
Brock snorted. “Yeah. It’s funny how you seem to get lucky every time you have a sword in your hand. You’d think it was a coincidence of something.”
Cam shrugged, turning toward the center of the Arena. Brock turned to see Vandermark waving to quiet the crowd before calling out eight more names. Corbin’s was among them.
Brock had never seen Corbin fight, so he planned to watch his fight closely. Even if he didn’t face Corbin in the tournament, they might clash in the future if their paths continued as they were currently headed.
The four pairs took ready positions, waiting for the signal. When the bell rang, they sprang into action.
Corbin held his longsword with ease as it clacked repeatedly against his opponent’s two short swords. The other boy was slightly taller than Brock but with a stockier frame. He had thick arms, twitching as his swords flicked at his taller opponent. The steady clacking of his strikes hitting Corbin’s shield and sword filled the air. However, for all his effort, each swing was easily blocked or parried.
With a look of concentration on his face, Corbin continued to defend himself against his dual-armed opponent. The shorter boy pressed forward and made a low lunge. Corbin dodged and chopped down hard with his longsword, striking his opponent on the top of the helmet. The clang of the blow rang through the Arena as the stocky boy collapsed.
A healer ran in to check on Corbin’s opponent, who lay unconscious. Corbin ignored his downed foe. He removed his helmet, holding it and his sword high as he faced the roaring crowd. One of Budakis’ assistants ran to help the healer haul the unconscious boy away. Corbin strolled back to the bench without a glance at his injured opponent.
Brock wasn’t surprised. Corbin had proven that he lacked any sense of compassion. That trait alone would have made Brock despise him.
With
the other bouts decided and the floor cleared, Vandermark again stepped to the center of the Arena to call the next group of eight. Brock’s name wasn’t among those called, which meant he would be in the last group of the first round.
The eight selected took the floor, pairing up as directed and waiting for the signal. Rather than watching the matches, Brock leaned back and closed his eyes to calm his nerves. After a bit, he opened them to see the last match called.
Rather than waiting for his name to be announced, Brock stood and began crossing the floor. Vandermark quieted the crowd and announced the names on his list. Brock stepped beside him as his name was called, causing the headmaster to pause and glance at him before announcing the last three names. When they had all gathered, Vandermark read out the pairings. Brock was matched with a boy named Talvin. The two crossed the floor to the circle closest to the benches where Cam and the others sat watching. Brock and his opponent studied one another from across the circle.
As expected, Talvin was taller than Brock, giving him a reach advantage. He held a short sword in one hand and had a small shield strapped to the other arm. The boy was lean and muscular. His equipment and build showed that he, like Brock, relied on quickness. As Brock waited for the signal, he thought about the next match. If he advanced, he would have little time to rest since his first-round duel was among the last. A long drawn-out duel would drain him. He decided to be aggressive and end it quickly, one way or another.
The bell rang, the crowd cheered, and Brock sprang into action. Advancing, he made a lunge to the shield side of his opponent, which was easily blocked. When Brock felt the staff strike the shield, he pulled back hard. Seeing Brock’s backside open, Talvin swung wide, aiming at the small of his back. The wooden sword sped through the air but failed to connect.
The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) Page 27