The Arcane Ward (Wardens of Issalia Book 2)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  21

  A Piece of Furniture

  Brandt focused on Master Alridge while she traced symbols on the black wall. Although her appearance still distracted him occasionally, he no longer found himself staring at the shapely woman. He couldn’t decide if it was because he had grown used to her looks, valued her knowledge as an instructor, or if he cared what his fellow wardens thought of him…at least one of them.

  He glanced to the side and found the others watching in rapt attention. Quinn sat between her roommate, Chuli, and her brother, Everson. All three were busy drawing their own version of each rune and marking it with the related augmentation. Brandt looked down and found his paper blank. Taking notes had never been his thing. He, instead, relied upon his memory. If he tried, if he focused, he knew he would recall every detail. Accordingly, he stared at the board and drank it all in.

  He immediately recognized the two runes his parents had taught him – Illuminate and Reduce Gravity. His parents had considered the augmentations unlikely to cause trouble. Of course, Brandt and Cassie had proven them wrong.

  The other runes they had covered over the past four weeks included Increase Gravity, Animate, Brittle, Elastic, Power, Truth, Enlarge, Courage, Fear, Heat, Cool, and Shockwave. Today, the woman added another new rune to the board, appearing like a series of intersecting diamonds. When she finished drawing it, she turned toward her students and tapped on the rune with the chunk of glowstone in her hand.

  “This is the last rune known to us – one we must thank Master Firellus for sharing.”

  Brandt frowned at the oddness of the statement. Sharing? he sent to his sister.

  Her reply rang loud and clear, Be quiet.

  “All augmentations carry risk, some more than others.” Alridge’s glare carried a more serious weight than normal. “The Stamina rune can empower a person with a seemingly endless amount of energy. What it truly does is accelerate your ability to recover by sapping your natural reserves. If you push yourself too hard while charged with a Stamina augmentation, you will eventually hit a wall and collapse. We have seen people require as much as four days rest before they regain normal functions. As a result, I call this augmentation the last hope, only to be used when no other option will suffice.”

  She stood back and examined her work. Drawn with the pale blue of glowstone, runes and their names covered twenty feet of black slate walls. Each rune marked a potential use for Chaos, each symbol displaying the true form of the magical effect it represented.

  “These augmentations are your tools, whether used in combat, to get out of a tight spot, or to enhance some mechanical invention. You must memorize these runes and maintain a firm understanding of what they can do…and of the potential side effects of each.”

  In the periphery, someone to Brandt’s right shifted as a hand rose in the air.

  “Yes, Everson?” Master Alridge asked.

  “Where did we discover these runes, and why aren’t there more of them?”

  The woman stared directly toward Brandt and Cassie. “Over two hundred years ago, the Ministry made a bold move and attempted to erase Chaos…forever. They killed everyone who could wield the magic and then made it their mission to destroy any references of Chaos. From that act, the Choosing ceremony was born, enabling them to sort out anyone who possessed the latent ability to use Chaos and treat them as outcasts.

  “Centuries of knowledge were lost during the Cleansing. Only two decades have passed since the return of Chaos, an event that was spurred by King Brock.” Her voice grew quiet, her eyes distant. “Many of the runes before you were discovered by him just before the Battle at the Brink, a battle we surely would have lost if not for the use of Chaos.” She turned and stared at the runes. “Regardless of what we have learned, a massive gap in the knowledge surrounding Chaos remains, and it leaves us believing that there is much yet to be discovered.”

  Brandt’s eyes met his sister’s, and he knew she pondered the same questions as he did. How did our father discover these runes, and how can we unearth others?

  Brandt thought of his father, imagining the man leading the battle to save humanity. The man seldom spoke of the past and had never offered details as to what exactly had happened. Brandt’s mother was no better, insisting that the story should come from Brock. As a result, Brandt and Cassie had decided that there was little to tell…that Brock and Ashland’s role had been minor at best. The way Jestin and Alridge spoke of his parents told Brandt a different story. Their respect was obvious, the roles his parents played clearly more significant than he had ever considered.

  He headed up the stairwell, not stopping until he reached the fifth floor. When he turned the corner, he found Quinn standing in the corridor, across from his room.

  Brandt hesitated when she turned toward him. He ran his hand through his hair to tame it and then strolled toward her, attempting to appear nonchalant.

  “Hello, Quinn.”

  “Brandt,” Quinn said. “I…I…” Her eyes looked down, her lips pressing together. “I wanted to ask you for help.”

  When she looked up, her eyes met his, hardening. Before he could speak, she added. “If you make a big deal out of this, I’ll hurt you.”

  Brandt held his hands up. “No big deal. I just never imagined you as someone who needed help.”

  She tilted her head and turned away. “It isn’t…an easy thing for me to ask.” When she turned back toward him, their eyes met again. “Before Delvin left, he gave me a new persona to practice.”

  Brandt asked, “Persona?”

  She huffed a sigh. “Let’s get out of the hallway and I’ll explain.”

  He withdrew his key before unlocking the door. When he turned the knob, it opened to a quiet room. “Thank, Issal,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “It’s Wyck. I’m sure he has some positive traits…I just have yet to figure them out.” Brandt shook his head. “Why’d they stick me with such an arrogant jerk, anyway?”

  Quinn closed the door behind her. “They have a reason. Trust me. Every move here comes with a reason – calculated and cunning.”

  “So, being stuck with Wyck is a punishment from my father.”

  She laughed. “No. My guess is that they sought out the only person more arrogant than you, hoping you might learn some self-awareness.”

  Brandt’s jaw dropped. After a moment, he shook his head and laughed. “Fair enough.”

  “Besides, Wyck’s personality is perfect for his role.”

  “And, what would that be?”

  “He’s a wildcat.”

  “A what?”

  Quinn sat on the sofa. “A wildcat. You know, a fighter – a warrior, but one trained to battle with the advantage of a Power augmentation.” She shook her head, her eyes reflecting wonder. “When imbued with that rune, you feel invincible and are able to do amazing things. It can make anyone superhuman. For a warrior like Wyck, who is scary under any circumstances, it can make him into a killing machine. He could probably defeat a squad of fifty soldiers if he were properly armed and charged with a Power rune.”

  “It sounds amazing. I’d like to try it.”

  “You will. Soon. We all practice it after eight weeks or so of training.”

  Brandt sat on the chair across from her. “I assume there are warden roles besides wildcat.”

  “Of course. My brother is a gadgeteer. His job is to invent things. My roommate, Chuli, is a ranger. Jonah is an arcanist. I’m training to be an espion – a spy.”

  “So, what am I?”

  Her eyes narrowed in thought. “I suspect you’ll be an espion or an arcanist. It is difficult to be sure since your training appears to cover both disciplines.”

  “What about an ecclesiast?”

  “A healer?” She shook her head. “They only accept people who can wield both Order and Chaos. Healing comes with your other magic or you don’t get the job.”

  He grimaced as he considered his inability to heal others. What if I
can’t do it? Will they still want me? Surprisingly, Brandt found that he cared. He actually wanted to be a warden.

  Quinn said, “Now, about this new persona…”

  “Wait,” he interjected. “You still haven’t explained this persona thing.”

  “We espions need to perfect a number of personas – fake identities that we can slip into at any moment. However, a persona is more than just a name and clothing. Each persona must have a history, a childhood, a family, wishes and desires…the things that make a person real. We must completely assume the identity so we do not stumble when faced by an odd question or compromising situation.

  “I already have personas as a thief, a guard, and a trader,” Quinn said. “Now, Delvin wants me to work on one as a castle servant.”

  “So you came to me?”

  “You lived in a castle, right?”

  “Yes. My entire life. Until I moved here, I really didn’t know anything else.”

  “Well, if you think this place is reality, think again.” She smiled. “I suspect your comfortable life in the Kantar Citadel was more real than the Ward.”

  His brow furrowed. “What makes you think my life in Kantar was so great?”

  “What could be wrong with it? Don’t your parents love you?”

  He looked away. “Yes. They are very loving…and supportive. They go out of their way to ensure my sister, my brother, and I have everything we need. We are trained by private tutors, fed the best food, interact with the most important people…”

  When he paused, Quinn interjected, “But…”

  He turned toward her and stared into her steely blue eyes. “This is going to sound petty.”

  She sat back with a smirk. “Let’s hear it.”

  “My brother, Broland, is the oldest. His role as heir prince is to take over should anything happen to my parents. His entire life, he has been prepared for it…and lavished in the attention that comes with the role. My sister and I were often the afterthought…just the other two kids who live at the citadel.”

  Quinn’s smirk remained below a furrowed brow. “Did your parents favor him as well?”

  Brandt shrugged. “Not directly.”

  “And they love you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So, you’re jealous.”

  “No…well…in a way.” He frowned as he tried to articulate his feelings. “Preparing to be the next king, regardless of when it actually happens, has given my brother a goal…and a challenge. Cass and I have no tangible goal and have rarely found ourselves challenged. As a result, we often designed clever schemes to get ourselves into trouble.” He turned away again. “There were times when I thought my parents would just wish to be rid of us. When one recent prank went too far, they sent us here.”

  Quinn sat forward and took his hand. “You arrived at the Ward, what? Four weeks back?” He nodded and she continued. “Put your hurt feelings aside and tell me what you have found here. A sense of purpose? A challenge?”

  He stared at her for a moment before nodding. “You’re smarter than I thought.”

  She bent his fingers back, forcing his elbow down to the Ratio Bellicus table as he yipped. “Ouch!”

  “You might want to be careful what you say next.”

  Brandt responded between gritted teeth. “I meant it as a compliment.”

  She let go and he sat back with a sigh, opening and closing his fist to work his fingers.

  “By what you said, your parents care about you very much. They likely saw the gap in your life and decided that the role of warden would help fill it.”

  “You might be right. I will talk to Cassie about it.” A smile crossed his face. “Thank you.”

  With a nod, she stood. “Good. Now that I helped you, you can help me with Glynnis.”

  “Who’s Glynnis?”

  With a tilt of her head, she thumbed toward herself while sharing a small smile. “Glynnis is me. Or, more accurately, my servant persona.”

  He laughed. “I like it.”

  Quinn turned and strode to the door, stopping with her hand on the knob. “I’m going out into the hallway. When you hear a knock, it will be Glynnis.”

  Without another word, she opened the door, stepped out, and pulled it closed. Brandt stared at the door, wondering what he was supposed to do. A thumping knock came from the door, drawing a frown on his face. He stood and crossed the room. When he opened the door, he found Quinn standing there with her hands clasped together at her waist.

  “Hello, good sir. I’m Glynnis, here for the evening service – to clean the room and turn down your bed.”

  “Quinn…” he said before she smacked his shoulder, “Ouch!”

  “I’m Glynnis, remember?”

  “Yes. Fine.” He backed up two steps “Don’t hit me again. Just let me explain.”

  She stared daggers at him, her arms crossed, her toe tapping the floor while she listened.

  “You made at least three major mistakes. I’ve been around servants my entire life. There are two kinds you’ll find – the ones who run the place and the ones who do the work. The first are all full of themselves, obsessed with every propriety and having everything perfect. The second type, the type that you are to portray, are almost invisible…like a nondescript piece of furniture that is always in the room, but you never seem to notice it. You just walk past it every day and seldom give it a second thought.

  “Your first mistake was the knock. Servant knocks are timid. If there is no response, they will try again, a little louder. After that, they will open the door to see if anyone is inside. If not, they will enter and do their business quickly in an effort to be gone before anyone returns.

  “Secondly, you gave your name. I don’t care what your name is, and if I did, I would ask for it. Telling the person why you are there is fine but until asked to do so, never give them your name. There are dozens of servants who have worked in my father’s castle my entire life, and I don’t know their names.

  “Third, keep your eyes downcast. Giving them a hard glare is even worse than giving them your name. You must bottle up your real self and become timid, shy, and even awkward. The use of please and sorry are acceptable if for some reason you do something to capture their notice. Try not to. Remain as unnoticed as possible.”

  As Brandt spoke, Quinn’s expression softened.

  “Thank you.” Quinn smiled. “I knew you could help with this one. Your being raised as a spoiled brat actually has some positive aspects.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  She stepped back into the corridor, facing him as she held the door open. “We’ll try this again, but this time, I’ll try to be nothing but a boring piece of furniture.”

  22

  Chaos Trap

  Everson tentatively touched the bronze and yanked his finger away. He tried again, his finger lingering longer this time. It was hot, but the metal didn’t burn him. With the tip of a chisel, he gently pried it free from the casting. He held it up, squeezing the object between his finger and thumb. The pattern he had etched into the casting showed on the outer surface of the bronze piece like a work of art. Yet, he still needed it altered to compensate for the weight inside. When he saw Jonah approaching, he smiled.

  “Perfect timing.”

  “What crazy contraption are you creating now?” his roommate asked.

  Everson shook his head. “As usual, I’ll not reveal it until I’m finished.” He held the bronze piece toward Jonah. “Regardless, I think even you can guess this one.”

  “Even me?” Jonah’s face took on a pained expression. “You cut me to the quick, Ev.”

  “Oh, stop.” Everson chuckled.

  Jonah examined the object in his hands, the ornate pattern in the domed-shape bronze piece glittering in the light. He flipped it over to the concave side and his brow arched. “You actually embossed this rune into a casting block?”

  “Yes. I plan to make a number of these and that will save a step.”

 
“I assume this rune is why I’m here?”

  “Yes. I need it Infused.”

  Jonah arched his brow. “You want me to enchant this to make it lighter?”

  “I need it lighter to compensate for the weight on the inside. When I’m finished, it should feel and appear innocuous as long as nobody attempts to open it.”

  “I assume something other than powder will be inside it.”

  “Good assumption,” Everson tapped the disk in Jonah’s hand. “Can you do this now? I need to finish this one today.”

  Jonah’s gaze met Everson’s. They both knew why it had to be finished today.

  “I’ll work on it now.”

  “Good. I’ll finish assembling the body. By the time you’re finished, I’ll be ready for final assembly.”

  Jonah moved off to a quiet corner and sat facing the wall. Even from a distance, Everson saw the rune flash bright red, the glow quickly fading. While his friend applied the new technique, Everson recalled their final classroom session with Alridge.

  As they had every day for the past five weeks, he and his fellow wardens in training met in the debriefing room. Seated at the tables arranged in a U, they listened as Master Alridge strode down the center of the tables and offered her instruction.

  “We are nearing the end of our time together. You now know the extent of what we have discovered regarding Chaos augmentations and their application. Only one piece remains, the one that ICON holds most secret…because it is the most dangerous.”

  Alridge paused and stared at the floor, as if seeking the right words. After a moment, she looked up and spoke.

  “What you might know of as Enchanting, is technically termed Infusion. This is because it involves the process of permanently infusing a Chaos augmentation into something. Why so secret? Because when the process is applied to a living thing, the consequences are dire.

  “Very few people know the true nature of banshees. Chaos is infused into these monsters, giving them their massive size and powering their screams with debilitating fear. You see, at one point, each banshee was just a man. When augmentations of Enlarge and Fear were given to these men, they infused the augmentations for a reduced, but permanent affect. The intent was to create an army unlike any other. The truth was far worse.