A Warden's Purpose (Wardens of Issalia Book 1)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  The wagon reached an intersection and turned north on a gravel road. Two riders, a man and a woman, rode past them at a trot. The man tipped his hat as he passed, while the woman flashed a smile when Quinn waved.

  A driver with a loaded wagon came toward them, the man staring blankly at the road ahead as he rode past. A strange looking metal oven stuck up from the wagon bed. Quinn glanced toward Everson, who grinned and shrugged.

  Two teens on strange contraptions sped past them, each sporting two wheels secured to a wooden frame. The riders pumped cranks with their feet, seemingly to propel them forward.

  “What are they? Why don’t they tip over?” Quinn asked.

  Everson replied, “Like rolling a coin, they are likely easy to balance when moving. As for what they are, I have no idea.”

  Shops with second-story apartments above them bordered the road as people on foot strolled down the wooden boardwalk that ran along the buildings. A man exited one shop with a loaded sack that seemed to float above his shoulder. Quinn’s brow furrowed, but when she looked toward Everson, she found his eyes wide with wonder.

  Smaller streets crossed the road with a dormant glowlamp mounted on a pole at each intersection. She caught a glimpse of a lake in the gaps between the trees at the end of one such road.

  The wagon turned, and her father drove the team around a building to a fenced yard that waited at the rear. As they pulled through the open gate, Evers pulled the reins, and the horses came to a stop before a stable with a shed built on the back. A thin man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a brown tunic emerged from the shed.

  “Hiya, folks.” The man approached the wagon and gave them a toothy grin. “I’m Ned. I can tend to your horses and watch your wagon. Are you here to eat or are you staying the night?”

  “Hello, Ned. My name is Evers, and this is my family. We’ll be staying the night and possibly longer, depending on how long it takes to find a suitable home.”

  “You’re planning to live here?”

  Evers climbed down from the wagon. “Yes. At least for a few years. You never know where life might take you next.”

  Ned’s gaze shifted to the wagon, scanning the contents. “You wouldn’t by chance be a blacksmith?”

  Evers frowned. “As a matter of fact, I am. Why do you ask?”

  Ned shrugged. “We have a bit of a need. Used to be that the academy helped with our smithing jobs, but things have changed of late. They don’t seem to have time for us common folk as they’re focused on their fancy inventions. Just getting a horse shod is tough, with only one smith in town. The man is too busy, and you have to pay extra to get anything done in a timely way.”

  Evers smiled as he helped Polly down. “Seems I came to the right place, then.”

  Quinn jumped over the side of the wagon and landed softly in the gravel.

  “Seems right, indeed.” Ned nodded in agreement. As the man spoke, Evers had helped Everson from the wagon. “Go on in through the kitchen. Ask for Dory. She owns the place. Tell her that you’re the new smith, and you need a room ‘til you find a place of your own.”

  “What’s this place called, anyway?” Quinn asked.

  “Why, you are at the finest inn in Fallbrandt,” Ned said proudly. “Welcome to The Quiet Woman.”

  The song of a starfetch lilted in the air, a sweet serenade to the morning sun. As Quinn and Everson approached the massive oak, she searched the sprawling branches – thick with dark green leaves – but was unable to locate the bird. They passed the tree and her focus shifted to the massive structure ahead.

  It soon became apparent that the complex was made of numerous independent buildings that had been interconnected over time. Two large, blocky buildings stood in the center with long sections stretching out to the sides, each end culminating with a circular tower. Parts of the complex consisted of three levels while the interconnecting portions had just a single level. At the rear of the academy, a massive square building reached toward the sky and was far taller than the surrounding structures.

  As they approached the stairs at the front, Quinn read the alabaster plaque above the door, etched with the words Fallbrandt Academy of Magic and Engineering.

  Everson stopped and Quinn turned toward him.

  “This is it.” Everson looked toward the building. “My new home.”

  Quinn put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” She looked back and found herself unable to see through the trees that lined the road. The sister school, her school, waited beyond the trees and across the fields. “I’m close by if you need me.”

  She pressed her lips together and resisted speaking her concerns. This would be their first time apart, even if their separation were to be a mere two miles.

  “I know.” A grin spread across his face. “I’m sure you’ll get in trouble without me there to look out for you.”

  Quinn laughed. “Without a doubt.” When her focus shifted toward the sky, she found the sun well above the mountains to the east. “I’d better go. I’m already late.”

  “You didn’t have to walk with me. I know I move slowly.” His eyes were apologetic.

  “Nonsense. I wanted to see you all the way here.”

  Their slow pace had frustrated her all morning. Normally, she accepted the issue, knowing that Everson would move faster if it were possible. Today was different. The fact that dozens of other students had passed them during the journey made it that much worse.

  A distant light flared at the edge of her vision. Quinn turned toward the school and saw two balls of fire arcing from the rooftop of the square tower at the back. Everson noticed and turned to watch the fireballs streak through the sky until the building obscured them from view.

  “What was that?” Quinn asked.

  “Magic, I guess.” His voice betrayed a sense of wonder.

  Her concern for him resurfaced at the mention of magic.

  “You had better go,” he reminded her.

  “You’re right.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Giving his shoulder a squeeze of affection, Quinn spun about and broke into a run, heading south on the gravel road they had just taken from Fallbrandt. As she ran with her pack over one shoulder, she wiped her eyes dry.

  Her thoughts returned to their brief stay in Fallbrandt. Only two nights had passed at The Quiet Woman before her parents were able to sell the wagon and horses in exchange for a new home. The house was smaller than their home in Cinti Mor, this one with just a single bedroom. However, she and Everson only needed to stay there a few days.

  During that time, she helped her father clean out and repair the shed behind the house. They then spent nearly two days building a new forge using rocks and mortar. By the time the new smithy was functional, Evers had secured enough business to keep him busy for months.

  Despite the fact that the more distant of the two schools was only three miles away, their mother was crushed when Everson and Quinn left Fallbrandt that morning. After warning them days earlier that she might cry when it came time to say goodbye, Polly proved her ability to predict the future – at least in this case. Yes, Quinn would miss her parents, but her larger concerns centered on Everson.

  She reached the driveway that led to the other school and turned, heading east toward the structure. Similar to the academy for magic and engineering, the combat school consisted of many interconnected buildings, all constructed with pale stone blocks.

  Quinn slowed to catch her breath as she approached the school. The path led directly to a blocky building, two stories tall with a row of windows near the roofline. A stable yard and a massive stable stood to the right of the main entrance. She approached the double-doors and gazed up at the plaque, reading the words engraved there – Torreco Academy of Combat Training. Gripping the knob, she pulled one of the heavy wooden doors open and stepped inside.

  An open hall stood before her, its ceiling built with open beams that stood two stories above. Morning sunlight streamed through
windows at the far end, above a corridor that led deeper into the complex. Doors lined both sides of the hall, and a massive statue of men fighting a giant monster drew her attention to the heart of the room.

  “You’re late, Cadet!”

  Quinn turned to find a man approaching. He stood a half-head taller than she and had broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and thick arms. His sleeveless black leather jerkin left his arms bare save for the leather bracers on his forearms.

  “The instructions clearly said that you were to arrive within an hour of sunrise.” He frowned at her with dark eyes below a strong brow, the rune marking his forehead partially covered by brown bangs.

  “I’m sorry…I needed to…”

  “I don’t care what you need!” He stepped close and glared at Quinn. “You better learn to follow directions if you expect to remain here. Can you do that, soldier?”

  “Um…yes.”

  “The proper response is yes, Sergeant!”

  “Yes, Sergeant!”

  “That’s better.” A grin formed on the man’s face. “You missed bunk assignments, but we can deal with that later. For now, you are to head to the Coliseum for your debriefing.” He gestured toward the corridor at the back of the hall. “Hurry along, it’s about to start.”

  With a nod, Quinn rushed across the room in the direction indicated. Just prior to reaching the center hallway, she noticed two other corridors, one to her left and the other to her right. She entered the hallway, lit in blue light despite having no windows. Somehow, the thick wooden beams that supported the ceiling glowed blue like a glowlamp. Not having time to inspect them, she hurried past and made her way to the double-doors at the end of the corridor, ripped them open, and darted inside.

  She stopped at the top of a row of stairs as hundreds of faces turned in her direction. The Coliseum was a huge chamber, oval in shape. Rows of seats encircled the building, save for a straight wall at one end. Below the seats was a dirt floor surrounded by a ten-foot tall wall, which made the room appear like a giant bowl.

  “Take a seat, Cadet!”

  Quinn’s focus shifted to the man who had bellowed the command. He stood in the center of the dirt floor, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared in her direction. Students filled the seats between her and the floor, many of whom stared in her direction. Moving down a number of steps, she found a spot in one of the middle rows and slid past three other students before sitting on the bench.

  “If you’re finished interrupting, I will continue.” The man uncrossed his arms, revealing a sleeveless leather jerkin, bleached white. In his mid-thirties, the man had a shorn head of brown hair and trimmed beard to match. “As I was saying, you have been sent here by your respective kingdoms because someone saw potential within you. Be aware that life here is not easy. You are nothing but lumps of iron today – formless, raw, and largely useless. However, if you dedicate yourself and commit to the program, we will mold you anew, forge you into weapons.”

  He began to pace, his long legs striding in a measured and purposeful manner. “Why, you may ask. Why go through the pain of combat training? Why endure the hardships of a soldier without pay? Why would you wish to become a weapon?”

  The man’s eyes lowered for a moment before he lifted his head to face the crowd.

  “Because somebody must protect the innocent.” His manner grew more animated. “You all saw the sculpture in the central hall. Those warriors are heroes. That monster you see them fighting was real. In fact, there were thousands of others just like it. Without men and women like them, trained for combat – brave, fierce, determined – we would not be here today. All of you, and everyone you know, would be dead. That battle occurred just seventeen years ago. Many soldiers died that day, but humanity survived. Someday, you may be called upon to save mankind…or to protect your king…or simply to capture bandits who prey upon the innocent. Regardless, the path is the same. You must train yourself for combat in order to survive it.

  “We will train your mind so that a bit of awareness and a lot of cleverness might help to save lives. We will prepare your body for the rigors of combat in the event that a physical confrontation cannot be avoided. We will train you to shoot, to ride, to hunt…to survive.

  “Know that we will ask much of you, but in return you will find a new sense of purpose. You will become the protectors, the shield against tyranny and darkness.”

  Quinn could not help feeling inspired. She already knew her purpose. This man merely confirmed it.

  10

  Making Enemies

  A cluster of girls funneled through the doorway in small, shuffling steps. Quinn moved aside to survey the room as the other girls moved purposefully toward their respective stations.

  Two rows of bunks lined the walls, ten bunks on each side. Between each set of beds was a window, the open curtains allowing sunlight to illuminate the room. A chest sat at the foot of each bunk and left the middle of the room empty. Girls hurried to stand at attention to each side of a chest. As the last of the girls settled into position, a firm voice startled Quinn.

  “Attention!”

  She turned to find a woman in a gray sleeveless jerkin standing beside her. The woman had a dark complexion and black hair tied into a bun behind her head. Matching Quinn in height, the woman had a lean, yet muscular, build. When she turned toward Quinn, the woman gave her a firm glare with her dark eyes.

  “Get to your station, Cadet!”

  Quinn looked down the length of the room, toward the girls who lined each side, their eyes staring straight forward. “I…arrived late and missed bunk assignments.”

  The woman frowned. “When you address me, you are to use the term Sergeant or Sergeant Jasmine.” The woman moved closer to Quinn without the hint of smile in her glare. “Now, go find an open bunk and get into position!”

  Quinn nodded. “Yes, Sergeant.”

  She scrambled across the room, seeking an open spot. At the far end, she noticed a swarthy girl with black hair standing alone beside a chest. The girl was the tallest in the room, broad of shoulder with thick arms. Quinn reached up to put her pack on the top bunk until the girl’s hand shot out to grab her wrist, squeezing it tightly.

  “That bunk is mine,” the girl growled. “You’re on the bottom.”

  Quinn yanked her hand free and set her pack on the bottom bed before taking position. Although her wrist hurt, she refused to let it show, unwilling to give the rude girl the satisfaction.

  Sergeant Jasmine strolled the length of the room, her gaze inspecting each girl as she walked past. The thump of her boots on the hard floor was the only sound in the room, matching the woman’s methodical pace. When she reached Quinn, the sergeant grimaced before turning to retrace her steps.

  “You heard Captain Goren’s message. I suggest you take it to heart. Your training will be difficult and will require discipline, dedication, and perseverance.” She stopped and smirked. “And it begins now.”

  A rumble arose from beyond the open door as a cart, pushed by a female cadet, rolled into the room. Pairs of tall leather boots occupied the shelves of the cart, the boots shaking violently from the vibration. Another girl then pushed a second cart into the room, this one with clothing piled atop it. The carts stopped and the two cadets began handing out black boots, green tops, and brown breeches to the girls in line.

  “Try on the sparring vest, breeches, and boots that you are provided to ensure they fit.” Sergeant Jasmine commanded. “If you need a different size, swap it out now. Store the clothing you are wearing, along with personal belongings, in the chest beside your bed.” She crossed the room and stopped beside the open door. “You have fifteen minutes to complete your fitting and meet me in the Coliseum.”

  The sergeant exited the room, closing the door behind her as the girls scrambled to change.

  Every movement required effort. Quinn’s muscles were worn, her joints sore. Although her body longed to lie down, her stomach wouldn’t allow it – at least not without
dinner.

  She followed the other students to the mess hall and found herself in a line that methodically inched through the kitchen. When she reached the front, she accepted a small meat pie and a glass of milk from a serving woman before turning to find a seat.

  Boys clustered at some tables, girls at others. She spotted a table with an open seat beside her bunkmate. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she put on a smile and approached the table.

  “Hello. We weren’t properly introduced earlier. My name is Quinn.”

  The girl’s dark eyes scanned Quinn for a moment before landing on her face. “I’m Darnya.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Darnya.” Quinn moved toward the bench, intending to sit beside the girl.

  Darnya’s hand slapped the bench right where Quinn had intended to sit.

  “This spot is taken. Find another table.”

  Quinn frowned. “Um…sorry. I didn’t realize someone was sitting there.”

  “Oh, nobody’s sitting here. I just like it open. It gives me more elbow room.” The girl grinned at the other girls, some of whom laughed.

  Anger flared inside Quinn, yet she maintained restraint. I don’t need to make enemies already, she thought.

  “No worries. I’ll find another table.” She smiled before adding, “One that smells better.”

  Darnya’s face darkened and Quinn turned from the table, walking away as if nothing happened. So much for not making enemies.

  Moving past a full table, she found an empty one and set her bowl and mug down before sitting. The food was hot and the first bites burned her tongue, but she was too hungry to care. She ate with fervor, using her fork to scrape the bowl clean.

  “May I sit here?”

  Quinn looked up and found a boy standing across from her, the rune of Issal marking his forehead. He was tall and muscular, but in a lean way. With olive-toned skin and black hair, his eyes shone with the amber of sunlight in a shallow stream.