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

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “What’s taking him so long?” he complained.

  His growling stomach informed him that mid-day was approaching. He finished attaching the actuator, securing it tightly with a bolt, and decided it was a good time for a break. He opened the storage crate his team had been assigned and placed the partial assembly inside, joining the pack he had taken to the quarry that morning. After closing the lid, he secured the lock, pocketed the key, and grabbed his canes.

  As he made the journey across the Foundry and into the hallway, Everson considered the work that remained. The two assemblies should be complete within a week. Then, it’s time to test. Raw excitement filled him, causing his pulse to race and stomach to flip.

  A commotion in the main hall pulled him from his reverie. His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp what was happening. A crowd had formed a circle near the doors, many with their heads downcast, some resting upon a neighbor’s shoulder. He shuffled between two clusters of students, navigating toward the middle. Girls were crying; the boys’ expressions were somber. When he emerged from the crowd, Everson saw a sight he would remember forever.

  Lying on the floor was a body, for the twisted pose and angle of his neck made it clear that the boy was dead. His eyes stared toward nothing, empty and lifeless. Blood coated the side of his face, capped by a nasty gash across his brow. Rena knelt to one side of the boy, Torney on the other – both with eyes downcast.

  “What happened?” Everson blurted.

  Torney looked up and shook his head. “He’s dead, Ev. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Everson stared down at his friend’s lifeless gaze and felt an emptiness inside. Loss. Like a hollowness that he didn’t know how to fill.

  “I don’t understand. I just saw him a short time ago. What happened?”

  Rena wiped the tear from her eye. “Some students found him beside the main hall. We think he fell off the building.”

  Everson swallowed when he recalled seeing Donnell climb the ladder and Jonah following. He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. After a swallow from his dry mouth, he cleared his throat and tried again.

  “What about Jonah?”

  Torney frowned at Rena, who shrugged. “Jonah? We haven’t seen him. Was he friends with Donnell as well?”

  An ugly thought stirred inside Everson, a thought too horrible to voice. He stared down at Donnell’s twisted body in fear – fear that Jonah had something to do with Donnell’s death.

  With his hunger forgotten, Everson headed back to his room. Lost in a haze of loss and disbelief, he found himself at his door without noticing the journey. He unlocked the door and entered. There was no trace of Jonah, nothing to show that he had been in the room since they had left early that morning.

  He settled on his bed and relived the morning outing with Jonah, trying to remember anything that seemed odd. Up to the point where they had spied Donnell on the ladder, he couldn’t think of anything noteworthy. Everson recalled Jonah’s demeanor changing dramatically in that moment, going from glib to focused resolve.

  A soft knock sounded from the door. Not wishing to get up, Everson called out.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened and Ivy peeked in. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffy. She slid inside and closed the door behind her.

  “You heard about Donnell?” she asked in her soft voice.

  Everson nodded. “Yes. I…saw him.”

  Kneading her hands, she looked away. A tear streaked down her cheek.

  “I don’t understand.” She sobbed. “Why was he on the roof? How could he fall?”

  Everson bit his lip as he considered what to tell her. He glanced toward Jonah’s bed, and his insides twisted at the thought of his roommate – his friend – as a murderer.

  “I…don’t know.” He shook his head, unwilling to say the words that bounced in his head.

  Ivy removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes dry. She appeared a mess.

  “Come here. Sit. Please.” He patted the bed.

  With a nod, she sat beside him. Unsure of what else to do, he tentatively put his arm about her shoulder. She leaned into him, her head bowed as she sobbed.

  The door opened, startling Everson awake. When he moved, Ivy lifted her head from his chest and straightened her glasses. Jonah stepped in and paused, appearing surprised when he found Ivy in the room. A glance toward the window informed Everson that it was late afternoon and that he had fallen asleep for more than an hour, perhaps two.

  “I’m sorry,” Jonah said. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

  Ivy shook her head and rose to her feet. “No. It’s fine, Jonah. I must be going anyway.” She moved toward the open door and spoke over her shoulder. “Thank you, Everson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As the door closed, Jonah sat on his bed and let out a sigh. Everson stared at his friend, trying to decide where to begin. Before he knew it, the words blurted out.

  “Donnell’s dead. Did you have something to do with that?”

  Jonah’s lips pressed together in a thin line as he stared at Everson. After a moment, his eyes shifted away. “It’s not what you think.”

  “What is it, then? What happened?”

  “I…can’t tell you.”

  Everson blinked, his jaw hanging open. Disbelief became anger – anger that flared within him. “He’s dead, Jonah. Dead! Tell me it was an accident. Please tell me that you didn’t mean to kill him.”

  “It was an accident. Killing him wasn’t my intent. It just…happened.”

  “You need to tell Headmaster Ackerson. If you explain it as an accident, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Jonah shook his head. “I’m sorry, Everson. The mystery surrounding his death must remain as is.”

  Everson’s anger came to a boil. “Why?”

  “I…cannot say.” Jonah stood and put his hand on the doorknob. “Let it be, Everson. Remember your friend well, but let it go. We will not speak of this again.”

  The door opened, and Jonah stepped outside, leaving Everson frustrated, confused, and alone.

  33

  The Spark

  An energy filled the Arena; an ambience of excitement that Everson held fast to his heart, hoping that it would lift his spirits. As he gazed at the crowd, he recalled the last time the school had gathered.

  It had been a dreary spring day, overcast with the threat of rain looming. A brisk wind blew down from the mountains, causing the students to wrap themselves tightly in their woolen cloaks. Those who had neglected the extra layer shivered with arms stiff by their sides, dressed only in their double-breasted academy coats and breeches.

  The entire school had come out, although only a fraction of the students knew Donnell. In fact, Everson found that nobody beside himself and Ivy even considered Donnell a friend. Still, the death of an academy student warranted attention, despite the unexplained circumstances.

  Ackerson finished speaking – the man’s words sliding past Everson like so much fluff – and he moved aside. Master Alridge stepped forward and rested a disk of wood atop the sheet that covered Donnell’s body. Moments later, a red glow emitted from the disk and it burst into bright flames. The sheet and surrounding wood caught fire, the pyre rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Despite a distance greater than ten strides, Everson was forced to hold his hand up to ward his face from the intensity.

  A moment of silence fell over the crowd, filled only by the crackling flames. The headmaster and other academy instructors in attendance then headed toward the school, trailed by somber students. Everson stared at the flames, thinking about Jonah and his role in Donnell’s death. It hurt him that Jonah wouldn’t discuss what happened. The issue had created a gap between them, one as deep and wide as the valley that surrounded the school.

  The flames faded in Everson’s eyes and his thoughts returned to the present.

  Master Nindlerod stood from his seat among the other judges and shuffled to the center of the Arena floor. Mid-day sunbeams sho
ne upon him, bathing him in light. He lifted a cone-shaped device to his lips and shouted “Silence.” The crowd quieted while Nindlerod waited. With the ruckus fallen to a hush, he addressed the audience.

  “Welcome to the winter Inventor’s Challenge. Once again, we gather to discover what innovations our young engineering students have created. I’m sure you know to expect the unexpected.”

  Nindlerod held his arm toward the other masters seated at the far end of the Arena floor, opposite from the contestants. Everson noted that Headmaster Ackerson was missing, and he realized that he hadn’t seen the man since Donnell’s funeral, the same day King Brock and the other rulers departed. Everson waited for the announcement. After all, he had requested it.

  “For the first team, I call upon the teammates of Donnell Banks, who honor their fallen comrade.” Nindlerod turned toward them. “Ivy Fluerien and Everson Gulagas, please come to the center and present your invention.”

  The butterflies sleeping in Everson’s stomach suddenly burst into flight, stirring his innards and quickening his pulse until he nearly fainted. He nodded toward Ivy, who stood and circled behind the cart. A grunt slipped from her lips as the cart – with Everson sitting on it – lurched into motion.

  All eyes were upon Everson as curious comments echoed throughout the room. He didn’t need to hear them to know that people wondered why he sat upon the cart with a blanket over his lap and his canes gripped in his hands. The curiosity was something he expected. In fact, it was something he desperately wanted.

  Everson had spent his entire life feeling incomplete. His dependence on others left him wishing to be more than just a burden. While his braces and canes offered mobility he would have otherwise lacked, most would never appreciate the gap that remained between him and someone with functioning legs. Every time he met someone with a cane, he felt a connection. They understood a piece of what he had lived every day of his life. He desperately wanted the audience to appreciate that perspective, for only that would give them a true appreciation of what he had accomplished.

  When the cart reached the center of the floor, Ivy stopped pushing and shifted to stand between the cart and the judges. The crowd quieted, and she addressed them.

  “We lost a teammate and a friend two weeks ago. Without his assistance, the invention we are about to present would not exist.” She gestured toward Everson. “So, Everson and I dedicate this moment to the memory of Donnell Banks.”

  Applause echoed throughout the room. With the funeral fresh in everyone’s memory, Donnell was well known, despite having barely existed in their minds before his death. When the applause faded, Ivy continued.

  “Throughout history, there are moments that change the course of humanity. From the discovery of fire to the invention of the wheel, these things impact our lives today despite having been discovered many centuries ago. Today, you will witness the next great change. A discovery that opens the door for new ideas, a whole new world of possibility.”

  Ivy turned toward Everson and grinned. “Despite my help and any contribution from Donnell, the ingenious invention you are about to witness came from Everson, as did the amazing discovery that makes it possible.”

  Everson frowned at her statement – something outside of the agreed script. All eyes turned toward him and he realized that the moment had come. He took a deep breath…and bared his soul.

  “Like the rest of you, I was born with legs. However, mine are…useless. With the help of braces to keep them straight and canes to support me, I have been able to get by. The gap between getting by and actually walking is wider than the sky, farther away than the stars. Accordingly, when I discovered the means to capture and harness Chaos, I put my mind to the task of crossing that gap.” He tossed his canes to the floor and watched them bounce and roll across the dirt. “Behold what Chaos Conduction can do.”

  With a flourish, Everson yanked the blanket from his lap and tossed it aside. He looked down at the mechanical assemblies that encased his legs, the polished steel bands gleaming brightly in the sunlight streaming through the windows above. When he pushed himself off the cart, he landed with a thud. Straightening his hips, the actuators attached to them triggered the Chaos core in each mechanism, and his legs straightened, leaving him standing tall, grinning.

  Everson crossed the floor, taking lumbering steps as his mechanical muscles whirred noisily. When he reached the wall, he turned from the crowd, squatted, and leaped.

  There are moments that define individuals. There are moments that define generations. And then, there are moments that transcend such narrow views. This was Everson’s moment, a moment that every student and faculty member would forever remember. This was a moment that would alter the course of history…at least it was as Everson saw it.

  The glass-paneled ceiling stood four stories above the floor. Yet, at the apex of his leap, Everson nearly reached the thick wooden beams that held the glass panels in place. Arching through the rays of sunlight, he focused on the floor as it quickly approached. With legs extended, he flexed his hips as his feet made contact and the mechanical legs bent, the air in the cylinders expelling in a rapid hiss. A puff of dust billowed up from his feet, clearing as he stood upright and turned toward the judges. The stunned looks he found on the master’s faces drew a smile on his own, satisfied by the effect.

  Using his cane, Nindlerod pushed himself to a stance and hobbled toward Everson. Master Hedgewick rose from his chair and passed the old man.

  “Did someone give you a Chaos augmentation?” Hedgewick demanded as he stared at the mechanical legs.

  “Um…no, Sir.” Everson shook his head. “Not exactly.”

  “What powers them, then?” Nindlerod asked.

  Everson reached down to his thigh, fumbling with the latch for a moment. When he swung the metal plate open, he moved his hip slightly and the actuator engaged with the chunk of rock. Red sparks of energy crackled in the opening when the pump engaged. He flexed the other direction and the pump reversed itself, again crackling with energy as air hissed out from it.

  “Amazing,” Hedgewick muttered as he stared at the sparking rock. “What do you call this power source?”

  “Chaos Conduction. It’s raw, unharnessed Chaos stored within an inanimate object. Certain materials seem to conduct it, while others appear immune.” Everson shrugged. “In fact, I am only using a slight bit of the power available. When conducted properly, this tiny piece of rock is far more powerful than a steam engine.”

  A grin formed on Nindlerod’s face – a grin that evolved into laughter, cackling noisily until it was drowned by deafening applause.

  34

  Chaos Conduction

  “Once the mechanical legs were fully assembled, Ivy and I began testing them. In an effort to keep our invention a secret, we agreed to meet in the Foundry late at night when others were sleeping.”

  The masters seated at the table stared back in rapt attention as Everson spoke. His attention shifted from Master Hedgewick to Master Nindlerod. Seeing Nindlerod, Everson recalled how surprised he had been when the man approached him after the Inventor’s Challenge concluded.

  “Well, done young man,” the Engineering master had clapped him on the shoulder and eyed the mechanical legs resting on the cart beside him. “It has been years since a student astounded me so soundly.” He turned toward Hedgewick, who was having a discussion with another master. “Your prize was well-earned.”

  “Thank you, Master Nindlerod.” Everson glanced toward Ivy, who kneaded her hands in silence. “However, I did not do it alone.”

  Cackling laughter came from the old man, and he clapped Everson on the shoulder again. “Humility as well.” He nodded. “Very good.” The man’s jovial expression grew serious. “I would like you to join a few of us in Ackerson’s office. We desire additional details regarding your discovery.”

  Ackerson’s office is where Everson now found himself. The headmaster was joined by Masters Alridge, Hedgewick, and Nindlerod. In additio
n, the man in black watched on, a man introduced as Master Firellus. Something about the man’s eyes put Everson on edge, as if the man peered into his very soul. Looking at the table, Everson collected his thoughts and continued with his response to their question.

  “When I first strapped the legs on, any movement I made caused me to lurch about in fits and jerks. The first time I tried jumping, I overdid it and almost crashed into a forge, thankfully saving myself by latching onto a pulley hanging from the ceiling.” He shuddered at the thought of landing in the forge coals.

  “We then began to make adjustments – reducing the size of the conductors wrapped about the charged chunks of stone, tweaking the length of the actuator arms, and other minor modifications. By the third night, I was able to walk. By the fifth, squatting, jumping, and even running became possible.”

  Master Firellus leaned forward, and his eyes narrowed. “That’s all well and good, but can you again describe how you captured this raw Chaos you speak of?”

  “Well, as I told you before, my friend Jonah used an augmentation that resulted in a simple rock turning a dull black.”

  “What augmentation? Which rune?”

  Everson realized he couldn’t hide the detail he had been avoiding. “We aren’t sure, but it has to do with heat.”

  Master Alridge leaned closer, frowning. “Where did you learn of this rune? We haven’t covered it yet in Chaos Theory.”

  “I know.” Everson’s gaze flicked down toward his lap. “We discovered the rune ourselves. It’s marked on the plates inside the kitchen ovens.”

  When he looked up, he noticed Alridge glance toward Firellus.

  Ackerson tapped on the table, drawing Everson’s attention. “Why, exactly, were you looking inside the ovens?”

  Everson sighed. “We were after the secret of enchanting. There was a rumor that the ovens always remained hot, without the need of a fire. After discovering the rune, Jonah and I decided to test it. The rock he used it on burned bright and hot and lasted for only an hour.”