“You want to fight me here and now because of what happened last year?” he asked.
She smiled again, holding her short swords up. “Yes.”
Cam stared at her as he searched for a way out of her bizarre plan. Deciding she wouldn’t take no for an answer, he released a sigh and slid his helmet over his head.
“Okay. Let’s do this, then,” he raised his wooden longsword.
She attacked, spinning with her leading sword high and the following sword low. He slapped the high one away with his shield and blocked the other with his sword. Countering with a stab at her mid-section, he only found air as she dodged to the side.
Now caught in the flow of the fight, Cam forgot that he was fighting the girl of his dreams. Swinging, blocking, dodging, and countering all came naturally in a rapid rhythm. Back and forth, they exchanged blow after blow with neither gaining an advantage. Tegan’s speed and agility made her a difficult target. Her ferocious fighting style required Cam to react rapidly with little opportunity to attack.
As the minutes wore on, Cam could feel the hot wetness of sweat building under the metal helmet. He remained poised, concentrating on the duel as he waited for her to make a mistake.
After blocking a swift series of strikes from Tegan, Cam swung his wooden sword low, trying to catch her off-guard or knock her off-balance. She jumped and flipped backward over the sword as it swept beneath her. When she landed, she thrust hard at his exposed side. Cam had anticipated the move, having seen her use it before. Her swords slashed in vain as he spun away with his shield arm outstretched. The shield clanged off her helmet with a glancing blow, causing her to stumble. In a moment of concern, Cam let his guard down and took a step toward her. She dipped low and slammed her sword under his shield arm and into his ribs. He felt them crack as air shot from his lungs and a grunt escaped his lips. Pulling his shield arm in tight to protect his wound, he stepped backward.
Smiling, Tegan lowered her swords. “Got you.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I think I broke some ribs.”
Cam turned to find Brock and Ashland descending the stairs from the stands. He walked across the floor to meet them.
“That was a pretty spectacular duel,” Brock said as he drew close.
“Yeah. It could have gone either way,” Ashland said. “I think you may have some broken ribs, Cam.”
Cam nodded, holding his side tenderly.
“What about you, Tegan?” Brock asked. “That shield hit to the helmet made quite a racket.”
Tegan yanked her helmet off, her wet red hair sticking to her face. “Just a bit of a headache.”
Ashland stepped close to Cam, putting her hand on his bare arm. A moment later, Cam’s body shook with a chill, and he gasped for air. Thankfully, the deep breaths no longer hurt.
“Thanks for the healing.” Cam said as she stepped away.
Brock held out an apple. “Sorry, but it’s all I’ve got on short notice.”
Cam grabbed it and took a big bite.
“Thank you two for coming to watch,” Tegan said. “Thanks for healing him, too. We’re done here now, so you can leave.”
Brock shrugged. “It was no problem. We’ll see you guys later.”
Grabbing Ashland’s hand as she waved goodbye, Brock led her toward the stairs. Cam continued to nibble at the apple, now half gone.
Tegan turned toward him, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. “Nice fight, Cammy. Thanks for agreeing to do it and for putting effort into it.”
He shrugged, continuing to eat.
“Well, I’m going to take a bath. I stink.” Tegan turned to walk away.
Cam finished off his apple as he stared at her backside strolling toward the changing room. The door to the arena sounded, echoing in the large space as Brock and Ashland departed, leaving Cam and Tegan alone. She stopped and turned back toward him.
“Aren’t you coming? Bathing alone is quite boring.” She spun and continued toward the baths.
Cam considered her words briefly before he followed along. He never knew what this amazing girl was going to do next.
CHAPTER 15
The foundry yard behind the school was quiet. As Brock crossed the wide gravel space between the foundry and the outbuilding, his eyes drank in the beautiful view. The high peaks above the valley now had a coat of white snow, glistening brightly in the afternoon sunlight. The dark green of the pines along the mountainside below gave way to the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaf trees. Since it was just his second autumn at the Academy, the sight still amazed him. With winter almost upon them, many of the leaves had already abandoned their branches.
Rounding the corner of the outbuilding, he glanced up at the stall numbers he passed until he found his destination at the far end of the building. The doors to the stall were twice the width of the others. Whatever Benny was working on, Brock decided that it must be big. He knocked on the large doors, hearing Benny’s reply from inside.
“Just a minute.”
Brock waited outside, hearing shuffling noises inside as his friend unlocked the door. It swung open to reveal a smile stretched across a familiar face.
“You made it. Thanks for coming to help me test it, Brock.”
“I still don’t even know what it is, Benny.” Brock gestured toward the stall. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“Oh, yeah. Come in.” Benny stepped aside to let Brock pass.
Brock scanned the length of Benny’s latest contraption. It looked like a larger version of the Hedgewick Roller but with pale sheets of animal hide pulled tight over long sections that stretched across the extra-wide stall. Two wooden rods ran to hinged panels at the rear of the thing. Pale, hollow, wooden poles framed the contraption, giving the appearance of a skeleton made of wood. Rather than having two large wagon wheels like the roller, this device had three much smaller wheels.
“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Benny said, caressing the frame.
“It’s something,” Brock replied. “But I’m not sure what that something is.”
Benny held his arm out wide. “You are looking at the Hedgewick Flyer, the world’s very first flying machine.” The boy smiled, rocking his elbows side-to-side in excitement.
Brock mouthed the words flying machine as it began to sink in. The long skin-covered sections were wings. Two sets of large fan blades were mounted at the rear of the unit, each with a rod connecting to cam at the back. When Brock’s gaze fell on the two seats with foot-cranks near them, realization struck.
“Oh, no. You’re not getting me to fly in this thing with you,” Brock waved his hands in a crossing motion. “We’ll crash and be killed.”
“But I need you, Brock,” Benny pleaded. “From what I’ve calculated, we need two of us to get enough wind speed. Even then, it might not be enough.”
“Why me, Benny?” Brock exclaimed, waving his arms about. “Why can’t someone else help you with your crazy ideas?”
Benny stepped closer. “That’s easy, Brock. It comes down to weight. The more this thing weighs, the more lift and speed I need. I could only make the wings so big and still fit them in here and I don’t believe that we can go fast enough to compensate for more weight. I need someone who is light and strong. I need you.”
An internal struggle waged inside of Brock. He wanted to help his friend, but he didn’t want to die while doing it.
“Okay, let’s say I help you,” he said, pointing a finger in Benny’s face. “You have to make sure we stay low so we don’t plummet to our deaths.”
Benny nodded. “Done.”
“That’s not all, Benny,” Brock said. “I’m going to get Ashland so that she can heal our broken bodies when we crash.”
“If we crash, Brock. If,” Benny replied. “But, don’t worry. I already thought of that. I asked her to wait for us in front of the school. Cam and Parker should be out there with her. We just need to push the flyer out front to meet them.”
Well, at least Benny was aware of the r
isk and had thought about injury. He had spent many hours over the past six weeks building this thing, and he deserved to see if it worked. Resigned to the task ahead, Brock released a long sigh.
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
. . .
A crowd had gathered, eager to see what would happen. Once word got out about Benny’s strange contraption, it had spread like wildfire, drawing most of the students from the school. Not occupied by classes since it was Seventh Day, a throng of students lined the sides of the road before the school. Brock waited nervously, seated in one of the wooden seats. He glanced toward Benny, who waited in the seat beside him. Benny sported a wide grin, his eyes alight with excitement.
“Remember that you can crank as fast as you want now,” Benny said. “When your feet stop, the pedals will stop, but the blades will keep spinning.”
Brock nodded. Benny was proud of the design improvements he had made since the Hedgewick Roller. In addition to altering his design so the rotating blades would spin freely even when the pedals stopped turning, he had made the gearing such that one rotation of the foot-crank generated numerous rotations of the fan blades. While it made the cranks harder to turn at first, it would help tremendously once they got going.
Redirecting his attention to the road leading to Fallbrandt, Brock observed the crowd of students lining the path before them. He could hear their excited chatter, hopeful to witness the first-ever flight of man. Peering past those students, nearly a mile away, he spotted Ashland. She was standing in the road, her distant form appearing tiny as she began waving her blue cloak in the air.
“That’s the signal,” Benny said. “Let’s go!”
Cam and Parker began pushing the flyer, its wheels squeaking as it rolled down the road. Brock began pumping his legs, straining as the pedals on the foot-crank spun faster and faster. Benny grunted as he mirrored Brock’s actions and the spinning fan blades behind them began making a whirling noise. The machine continuously increased its speed as it rolled downhill, soon outpacing the foot speed of the two boys who had been pushing.
Brock pumped his legs hard, moving them as fast as he could. The fans spinning behind him buzzed noisily. The vibration of the hard wheels on the gravel road caused Brock’s teeth to chatter as he bounced on the wooden seat. When it seemed they had reached top speed, Benny pushed upward on the two levers, tilting the panels at the rear edge of the wings.
Brock’s heart skipped a beat when he felt a floating sensation hit him. Lifting off the ground, the flyer tilted side-to-side. Benny kept adjusting the levers to steady the thing as it weaved left and right, coming dangerously close to the trees lining the roadway. The spectators yelled and cheered, jumping up and down as the flyer sped past them.
Benny shouted. “Keep cranking! We need more speed!”
Brock felt sweat beading on his forehead and quickly cooling in the fast moving air. The flyer rose higher, now two stories off the ground. It was frightening yet exhilarating. A grin broke on his face as the cheering students below them sped past.
Benny was puffing, his cranks slowing. The ground drew closer as their speed decreased. Trying to compensate, Brock peddled even harder. His thighs were on fire, and he was beginning to tire. He realized that he couldn’t keep this up much longer, and Benny was fading fast.
The flying machine dropped suddenly, the ground rushing toward them as they smashed into the road on two wheels. One wheel broke off, causing the flyer to turn sharply into the long grass of the lawn. The contraption caught, stopped fast, and launched both boys from their seats. Brock landed on his hands, rolling onto his back with the momentum. Black spots clouded his vision, and pain shot through his head when it struck the ground.
He lay on his back with his palm on his forehead, blinking as he tried to clear his vision. The sounds of yelling and screaming filtered through the fog that clogged his brain. Feeling groggy, he sat upright and looked toward the screaming. Benny lie a few strides from him, squirming on the ground as he cried in pain.
Ashland ran past Brock to kneel next to Benny.
She felt his shoulder, causing Benny to cry out. “It looks like you broke your collarbone, Benny,” She said. “I have to set it before it can be healed.” She turned toward Brock. “Can you help me?”
Brock nodded and rose to his feet. A crowd began to gather as they ran in to discover the fate of the fallen flyer and its crew.
“Grab his right hand.” Ashland said as she wrapped her arms around Benny’s torso. Brock complied, nodding when ready. “Now pull hard on his arm.”
Taking a deep breath, he pulled hard. Benny’s scream drowned out the sound of bones scraping together, though Brock felt it through his grip on Benny’s arm. Benny’s eyes rolled back and his head fell limp.
Ashland laid him down gently. “I think he passed out from the pain.”
She put her hand on Benny’s forehead and closed her eyes. A moment later, his body shook and his eyes shot open. Benny sat up, gasping for air.
Ashland dug into her cloak pocket, removed a hard roll, and held it toward him.
“Here, Benny. This will help with the hunger,” she said.
“Thanks,” Benny replied, still breathing hard as he grabbed the roll. He bit into it and chewed vigorously.
Ashland stepped close to Brock and put her hands on his arms. “Are you okay?”
Brock nodded. “Yeah. I have a headache, but nothing’s broken.” He turned toward the remains of the flyer. A mob of students had clustered around the downed contraption. “Well, besides that.”
Ashland hugged his arm and pulled him closer. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was so scared. When I saw you guys crashing, I think my heart stopped for a moment.”
Brock nodded. “I was a bit scared, too.”
Benny climbed to his feet, pausing his chewing. “We did it though, Brock. We flew!” Excitement lit his eyes, now taking hold of him.
Brock snorted. “I guess.”
“We did. We must have flown at least a thousand feet.” Benny nodded as he reaffirmed his statement.
“Okay, so we flew. But we couldn’t keep the thing in the air for long. It’s too much work.” Brock pointed at the wrecked contraption. “Plus, landing really hurts.”
Benny stared at the flying machine, his eyes scanning the damaged contraption. “Good point. I’ve got to work on this. Help me wheel it back to the school.”
CHAPTER 16
A cheerful tune echoed in the empty hallway. Brock’s soft shadow repeatedly pivoted around him as he passed the periodic glowlamps mounted to the wall. It wasn’t often that he visited this area of the Academy after dark, especially when alone. He whistled in an attempt to make the eerily still halls seem more cheerful, more alive. Deciding it wasn’t helping, he stopped whistling, and silence filled the gaps between the rhythmic tapping of his boots on the tiled floor.
Reaching the door to his destination, he knocked softly. From inside, a familiar voice bid him to enter. He had no idea why Master Varius would send an urgent request to meet her at this hour. As he gripped the doorknob, he felt a ripple of dread wash over him. Was it just his imagination, driven by the eerie setting, or was it something more?
He took a breath to calm his nerves, opened the door, and slipped inside. He found Varius sitting at her desk beside a dim glowlamp, its nimbus creating an island of light within the dark classroom.
“Ah, Brock. Thank you for coming,” she said, rising to her feet.
Brock crossed the room to meet her. “Your note said it was urgent.”
She nodded. “Yes. You see, something very disturbing has come to my attention. It appears that the Academy has been a victim of deception.” She held a piece of paper up, waving it. “This is a letter, written by a Master who graduated from this very institution. This Master claims to have never heard of the student who is said to have his support in a writ of recommendation.”
She paused for a brief moment before continuing. “The man who wrote this mess
age is from Port Choya. His name is Master Snod.”
The sense of dread that had been hovering over Brock became a shock of icy cold fear. Snod was the name Brock had used as a reference when applying the Academy, never dreaming that the man might be contacted regarding the subject.
A wrenching motion jerked his arm backward, pushing his hand between his shoulder blades as a thickly muscled arm wrapped about his neck. Brock winced at the pain in his shoulder, at the pressure of it lifting higher than it was meant to bend.
“Good. Hold him tight, Eldarro.” Varius smiled as the Academy Enforcer gripped Brock tightly. “Don’t move Brock. We will get to the bottom of this right now.”
Varius stepped close, placing her palm on Brock’s forehead as she closed her eyes. Brock held his breath in fear as he realized what she was doing, what she would find.
Her eyes flashed wide open as she recoiled in horror. A moment later, the horror turned to anger. Brock’s face snapped sideways from the force her slap. He blinked and worked his jaw, stinging with pain.
“How dare you? You filthy Unchosen! How dare you come into this righteous institution, into my own class, under this veil of deception?” Varius was panting in anger. “I believed in you. I stuck my neck out for you.”
She struck him again, causing his eyes to water. He squeezed them tight to blink away the tears. When his gaze returned to Varius, she had calmed.
“You could have been among the greatest Ecclesiasts of all time. Such a shame.” She shook her head. “But we cannot allow the taint of Chaos to threaten the beauty of Order or the welfare of the Empire. You’re the type of lying filth that proves why The Hand must forever exist.”
Her eyes shifted past Brock. “Eldarro, put him to sleep.”
The thick muscled arm around his neck tightened. His wrist was released as Eldarro’s other arm gripped his head. Brock struggled for air, pulling hard on the thick arm around his neck. Try as he might, he couldn’t break the enforcer’s strong grip. His vision narrowed, blackening as he flailed weakly. Thoughts of Ashland were his last before everything went dark.
The Emblem Throne (The Runes of Issalia Book 2) Page 7