Cam grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet.
Brock’s fingers raked grass from his hair as Benny came running in.
Reaching them, Benny stopped, breathing heavily. “Brock. I’m glad you’re okay.” He took a couple breaths. “What happened? What went wrong?”
Brock snorted. “Well, a few things actually.” He raised one finger at a time as he recited his complaints. “First, there’s no way to stop. Once I got going, I couldn’t slow enough to make that sharp turn. Second, there’s no place to put my feet if I take them off those pedals that keep spinning. Third, the seat is hard and gave my rear a sound beating on every bump. Lastly, I made the mistake of letting you talk me into testing out your crazy contraption.”
Benny nodded as Brock spoke until the last statement. “Don’t worry, Brock. I’ll make some changes, and it’ll be better next time.”
“Oh no,” Brock replied, shaking his head. “I’m not riding this thing again until you can prove it’s safe.”
As he walked away, Brock shouted over his shoulder. “I’m going to find Ashland. I told her I’d spend the day with her when I was done here.”
Benny and Cam stood next to the crashed contraption, watching Brock walk away with one hand rubbing his rear.
CHAPTER 87
Brock and Ashland rested on the front lawn, not far from the site of his recent crash. The blanket they sat on offered little comfort for his sore backside. Her laughter echoed through the area as he told his story.
“And so I lay on the lawn, not far from here, and stared up at the clouds thinking of how Benny almost killed me with his crazy contraption.”
He reached into the basket for another hard roll, ripping off a chunk to eat.
Ashland was finally able to recover from her laughter. “So you didn’t break anything? You didn’t need to be healed, right?” Ashland asked.
Brock snorted. “Somehow, no. I have some bruises and it hurts to sit, but most of the damage was emotional.”
He paused, distracted.
Corbin and his group were walking down a nearby path. Corbin was glaring at Brock, hate smoldering in his eyes. Brock locked eyes with him until they crossed behind a clump of trees.
Ashland noticed Brock’s change in demeanor and turned to see what had distracted him. Once Corbin was out of sight, she commented.
“He hates you, doesn’t he?”
He nodded. “Yes. He has since my first day here.”
She put her hand on his. “I can’t see why. You’re the most loveable person I know.” She smiled. “I sure love you.”
Brock smiled back. “I wish that were the case with everyone.” He stared off at where he last saw Corbin. “I think he’s gone through life with everyone kissing his feet, always bending to his will. I refuse to do those things for someone I don’t respect. I think it eats him up inside.” He paused, reflecting on issue. “Then, I beat him in the Arena and…well…you know.”
She nodded. “Yes. I know. His tongue will never heal. I suppose it reminds him on a daily basis, making it even worse.”
Brock nodded. “Yeah. Parker said that Corbin is now so bad that he’s scaring the others. They’re afraid of what he might do.”
Ashland looped her arm around his, pulling him close as she leaned in for a kiss.
“Let’s not worry about him for now. Let’s enjoy this beautiful evening together,” she said.
He smiled. “Any evening I spend with you is beautiful.”
She smiled back. “Thank you, Brock.” Her smile faded. Something else was on her mind. “School ends in a few weeks. Have you thought about what you’ll do during the break? Where you’ll go?”
He shook his head. “No. I hadn’t thought about it all.”
Looking down at the blanket, she asked timidly, “Would you like to spend it with me? That is, if you don’t have to go home or have other…”
He interrupted, “I’d love to spend it with you. I don’t care where we are if we’re together.”
Smiling, she leaned in for another kiss. When she pulled away, she gazed into his eyes. She reached up to put her hand on his forehead, closing her eyes.
For a moment, he didn’t think anything of it. Panic struck when he realized what she was doing. He still hadn’t figured out how to tell her he was Unchosen.
Her eyes flashed open. She yanked her hand back, recoiling from him. Her hands covered her mouth as horror reflected in her eyes.
“No!” She cried out. “No, it can’t be!”
She scrambled to her feet and backed away from him.
“Ashland, I’m sorry. I…didn’t know how to tell you,” he said.
She turned and fled.
“Wait!” He stood to run after her. “Ashland, come back!”
He stopped, watching her run across the lawn toward the school. His heart felt as if it were in his throat. After everything he had gone through, being Unchosen was still ruining his life.
He slowly walked back, distracted as his mind scrambled for a way to fix things. Gathering up the remains from their evening picnic, he headed back to the school.
. . .
Brock needed to find Ashland. He needed to show her that he was who she thought he was and that being Unchosen shouldn’t matter.
He checked her room, but the door was locked with no answer to his repeated knocks. Rapidly descending the stairs, he headed toward the Training Temple.
When he opened the Training Temple door, he found it empty. A single glowlamp illuminated the dais in the otherwise dark room. To be sure, he approached the dais, searching for signs of Ashland. Oddly, the glowlamp was on the floor, tipped on its side. He lifted the lamp, setting it back on the altar.
Brock! He looked around the room. Had he heard his name?
Brock! Help! There it was again. It sounded like Ashland, but the voice was in his head. He closed his eyes and shouted with his mind. Where are you?
After a moment, he heard it again. The Foundry! Come quick!
His eyes flashed open. Leaping from the dais, he ran out the door. He sped down the dark empty halls, yanking the Foundry door open before darting inside.
It was dark and appeared deserted. A scream sounded from across the long building. Brock burst into a sprint toward the sound, his eyes searching desperately. Near a burning forge, he noticed a dark silhouette.
“So, peon. You’ve decided to join us for the show,” Corbin said as Brock came into view.
Brock stopped, seeing Ashland strapped to a press, her head under the press plate. He couldn’t see her face, but could tell that her hands were tied behind her back, her legs and chest strapped down.
“Corbin, you don’t have to do this.” Brock pleaded. “Let her go. She’s done nothing to you.”
Corbin laughed; it was a disturbing sound. “I don’t think so. You see, killing her is the perfect way to get to you. You helplessly watching makes it even sweeter.”
Brock took a step. Corbin turned the press crank. Ashland released a horrible scream.
“Come any closer, and I crush her head. I have no issues killing her. After all, it was easy for me to kill that whore, Amber. She squirmed for a bit when I held her pillow over her face. When she stopped and I lifted it to see her blue lips and empty eyes, the satisfaction was glorious.”
Brock was shocked. Not that Corbin had killed Amber, but that he had enjoyed it.
He held his hands up. “Okay. I’m staying here.”
Corbin shook his head. “No, move over there,” he said, pointing to Brock’s left.
Brock moved as directed. “Corbin, please let her go. It’s me you want.”
Corbin laughed again. “Oh, that’s true. Better yet, I now have you both.” He reached out and flipped a release on the wall.
A sound from above caused Brock to glance up as a wooden beam crashed down. The world went black.
Blinking, Brock’s vision regained focus. His head hurt, scraped and bloody from a glancing blow. His chest hurt, and it wa
s difficult to breathe. He realized he was pinned under a huge wooden beam.
Brock shifted a little, getting his hands under the beam. He pushed hard, trying to lift it, but it barely moved. He grunted, straining with all of his might, but to no avail.
Corbin laughed. “This is so sweet. You’re trapped but still alive.” He laughed again. The demented sound sent chills down Brock’s spine. “Not only am I going to kill your girlfriend, but you’ll get to witness the whole thing before I kill you.”
Brock was horrified. He couldn’t let Ashland die. His mind raced for a solution. An idea born from desperation formed. Squirming, he was able to slide one arm from under the beam just far enough to touch the scrape above his temple. He held his finger up to see it red with blood. Using the finger, he began drawing a rune on the back of his other hand.
A scream of terrified pain came from Ashland as Corbin slowly crushed her skull with the press. Filled with anger and fear, Brock closed his eyes and drew in Chaos. The storm of energy raging inside made his body tremble, ready to explode. His eyes flashed open and he poured the energy into the symbol of Power he had drawn.
Brock’s vision went white, his body filling up with an immense sense of strength. The vision cleared. He pushed hard at the beam with the hand that was still beneath it. The beam flew into the air, spinning as it crashed into the far wall. Brock climbed to his feet.
Corbin turned to face him, red hot anger filling his eyes. He grabbed a solid metal rod standing nearby, grunting as he lifted the heavy bar over his shoulder.
“Why won’t you just die?” Corbin screamed as he charged. “Die!”
Corbin drove the butt of the heavy rod at Brock’s face.
Brock’s hand flashed up, catching the rod just before impact. With a super-powered push, he thrust the rod back at Corbin. The other end smashed through Corbin’s eye, emerging out the back of his head as the force of the impact blasted him across the room.
Brock ran to the press that held Ashland. Rather than turning the crank, he tore the upper press plate off, and tossed the heavy metal plate aside.
Ashland lay still, her head turned to one side. Trails of blood ran from her eyes, nose, and ears. With his throat tight with fear, he gently put his shaking hand on her face. Closing his eyes, he calmed himself to find his center. He reached out, searching for Order within her. Try as he might, he couldn’t sense anything. She was a hollow, empty shell.
Brock’s eyes opened to stare at her through tears of anguish. The back of his hand caressed her cheek, smearing the blood trails. He loved her so much. He couldn’t lose her. He refused to lose her.
He closed his eyes again, finding his center. Still charged with the Power rune, he tapped into the Order within himself, drawing on it as hard as he could. He bent his will on his own source of Order, pushing it into Ashland and demanding that it heal her back to life.
Her body convulsed, and she let out a horrifying scream, echoing the scream that came from Brock’s own mouth. The world went black.
CHAPTER 88
Brock blinked, but he only saw darkness. Fear struck. Fear that he had gone blind. Fear that he was dead. He sat up, seeing the dim blue glow of a lamp through a small window. His head swam, dizzy from the sudden movement. His eyes adjusted, allowing him to perceive that he was on a bed in a small room. The small window was in the only door to the room.
He swung his legs off the bed and tried to recall what happened. Images of his encounter with Corbin flashed in his eyes. Ashland! She was hurt, maybe dead. He had to know that she was okay.
His legs shook with weakness as he tried to stand. With one hand on the bed to support him, he inched toward the door. He tried the handle, finding it locked.
Pounding on the door, he yelled. “Help! Get me out of here!”
After a moment, a man’s face came into view. It was Master Eldarro, one of the enforcers at the Academy.
“Back up and sit on the bed.” Eldarro shouted through the glass.
Brock nodded, complying as instructed. The door opened, and Eldarro stepped inside with a glowlamp in one hand and a cudgel in the other.
“It’s good that you’re awake,” Eldarro said. “Varius thought you’d wake soon.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the Academy infirmary. You’ve been in here for four days, unconscious the whole time,” Eldarro replied.
Brock’s brow furrowed. Four days. That’s a long time. “What about Ashland? Is she okay?”
Eldarro glanced toward the door before answering. “The girl? She’s in the room next door, unconscious as well.”
Brock breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was alive. “Can I see her?”
Eldarro shook his head. “Sorry. Maybe tomorrow, but I can’t let you near her.”
Brock was confused. “Why not?”
“That’s up to the headmaster. He’s still gathering information, trying to sort out what happened.” Eldarro paused. “For all we know, you’re the one who tried to kill her.”
“Kill her? I love her. I’d never hurt her,” he pleaded. “Corbin Ringholdt was the one trying to kill her, trying to kill me too.”
“Perhaps.” Eldarro stepped back to the door. “We’ll see what the headmaster decides. All we know now is that one student is dead. How and why it happened is what they’re attempting to uncover.”
Eldarro grabbed the door handle. “The headmaster will speak with you tomorrow as part of the official inquiry. Until then, you’ll remain here. There’s a pot in the corner if you need to relieve yourself. Food and water will be here shortly.”
The door closed, leaving Brock alone in the dark room.
. . .
Vandermark met with him the next morning. Brock described the events in the Foundry the best he could. He couldn’t answer some of the questions without revealing the use of Chaos, so he claimed that his short coma had left holes in his memory. Vandermark finished his questions and departed, leaving Brock alone again.
When Eldarro delivered lunch, he informed Brock that he could go see Ashland, but only through the window in the door to her room.
He stood with his back facing Eldarro while his wrists and ankles were shackled. Eldarro then grabbed his arm and escorted him from the room. A desk, a chair, and some cabinets occupied the room outside. Only one of the other cell doors was closed. Eldarro escorted Brock to that cell, placing him before the small window.
Brock gazed into the dark room, waiting for his eyes to adjust. After a moment, he could see Ashland laying on her back with her eyes closed. She appeared to just be sleeping. He smiled, a tear tracking down his cheek. He longed to hold her, to tell her it would be okay.
His thoughts reflected on their last conversation on the lawn. He then remembered that she had called out to him somehow, her voice in his head though she was far away. If she could do it, maybe he could do the same. Closing his eyes to find his center, he reached out to her.
Ashland. Please wake up. Come back to me. I love you. Please, Ashland, wake up.
Brock opened his eyes, hopeful as he stared into the dark room. The spark of hope began to dim when he saw no movement. Just before the last remnants of hope fled, her eyes opened. He stared harder; making sure it wasn’t his imagination. Ashland lifted her head and looked toward the window. She flashed him a weak smile, and his heart soared.
“She’s awake,” Brock said with tears in his eyes. “Thank Issal, she’s awake.”
Eldarro pulled him from the window, glancing inside to see for himself. He then stepped away and dragged Brock back into his cell.
Eldarro unlocked Brock’s shackles. “You’re need to wait in here. Vandermark will want to speak with her as soon as possible.”
He closed the door, locking Brock into his dark cell.
CHAPTER 89
The hours passed slowly. In an attempt to stave off depression, Brock practiced his meditation. Burying himself in the calm solace of Order, he was able to keep his mental state in chec
k.
Dinner was delivered, interrupting his meditation. Still recovering from days without food or water, he quickly consumed the meal. About an hour later, Eldarro opened the door.
“Okay, Talenz. You’re free to go.”
Brock squinted, trying to adjust his eyes the light from the glowlamp.
“Free? What happened?” Brock asked.
Eldarro shrugged. “Ask Vandermark. You are to meet with him first thing tomorrow.”
Unsure of what that meant, Brock stepped out and glanced at the room next door.
“What happened to Ashland?” he asked, seeing the door open and the room empty.
“I helped her to her room. She’s there resting as she recovers her strength,” Eldarro replied.
“Okay. Thanks, then.” Brock turned and left the infirmary.
He stepped into the hallway and headed toward Ashland’s room.
. . .
Brock knocked softly, his stomach aflutter.
“Yes?” He heard Ashland respond.
“It’s me,” he said through the door. “Can we talk?”
“Come in, Brock.”
He opened the door to see her on the bed. He smiled, happy to see her. Even if she couldn’t accept him being Unchosen, at least she was alive and well.
He sat on the chair beside her bed. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I feared I had lost you.”
She smiled. “I heard you. You called me back.”
Brock nodded. “I just tried to do what you did when you called for me to come the Foundry. How is that possible?”
“Telepathy,” she replied. “It’s a rare ability involving Order. You don’t learn about it until your second year. It requires two highly skilled Ecclesiasts who also have a strong bond.”
He nodded. It made sense. Order was in all living things, somehow connected. A strong connection between the two people must be what made it possible. Taking a breath, he readied himself for the next topic.
“I need to explain something. It’s a secret I’ve shared only with Tipper, and that’s because he knew me before I got this.” He pointed to the rune on his forehead.
The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) Page 31