“These journals contain proof of The Hand’s treachery and the abominable acts they have performed in their greedy pursuit of power. Thanks to a Ministry official who had the integrity to place the greater good above his own personal agenda, they have been thwarted and were rendered unsuccessful in their gambit. With the Ministry’s strength greatly diminished, my men were able to take Sol Polis and stamp out the last remnants of this plague. They’ll not find a foothold within Kalimar again as long as I breathe. Even beyond my death, the threat of this proof should help to keep them in check. This proof and the power of truth within the Emblem Throne will continue to provide Kalimar the upper hand.”
Brock paused, glancing up at Benny before continuing. “Should anyone find this, it means that I am dead. Should The Hand be behind my demise, I beg you not to let it go unpunished. Regardless, this proof is now yours to wield for the words within are more powerful than any sword. The Keeper of Truth, King Tallinor of Kalimar.”
Benny thought about the words. There were secrets within these journals. Secrets powerful enough to protect a kingdom. Secrets someone would kill for.
CHAPTER 51
Brock emerged from the hole and stepped into the tall grass surrounding it. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes after spending the night in the dark ruins below. He held his hand over his eyes to shadow them as he surveyed his surroundings.
He found himself standing upon the tall mound they had seen in the dark of night. In the sunlight, it was easy to discern the mound to be the ruins of an old citadel. A quarter mile to the west stood the wall where they had set camp the night prior. Shifting his focus to the east, he gazed over the bright blue waters of the Sol Mai Ocean. Between their location and the bay lay the bulk of Sol Limar, lying in ruins. Brock tried to imagine a bustling city, full of life. It was difficult to do given its current state.
Shifting his focus to his companions, he found them examining their surroundings, as he had done. Puri finished coiling the rope they had used to descend into the ruins, replacing it into her pack. He was thankful that she had brought it. Things would have been far more difficult otherwise.
“I think this one is still alive.”
Brock turned to find Benny bent over a prone bacabra, sprawled across the rubble of the fallen wall. As Brock walked over, he realized it was the one he had hit in the head with his staff. Stepping close to the beast, he knelt and placed a hand upon its back.
Through the thick black hair, he could feel the animal’s chest rising and falling. It was still alive. The beast that had seemed so ferocious in the night now appeared as a dog sleeping peacefully, although it was far larger than any other dog he’d ever seen. Brock thought about the stray dogs back in Kantar. He often would feed them, befriending many of the strays. Over time, he had even named many of them. Seeing the unconscious bacabra in a new light, he felt sorry for it.
Brock spoke as he stared at the prone beast. “I want to try something. I need everyone to clear away except Cam and Puri.” He looked Cam in the eyes. “You two need to stand behind the bacabra with your swords ready. Parker, please have an arrow ready as well. However, nobody is to attack unless the bacabra attacks first. Got it?”
Cam and Puri nodded and moved into place as they drew their weapons.
“Got it.” Parker responded, pulling his bow from his shoulder as the others moved away.
Are you sure about this, Brock? Ashland sent to him.
He closed his eyes. It’s something I must do.
With his hand still resting on the bacabra, he slipped into meditation. The calm, coolness of Order was soothing as its blue aura began to fill his mind. Reaching out, he stretched his awareness toward the bacabra, wondering what he might find.
Chaos raged throughout the animal, intermixing with the Order he had expected. He searched harder and found two angry red spots, far hotter than the rest. Pulling hard at the Order within the bacabra, he first attacked the two worst zones. The tiny storms of red symbols began to unravel, dissipating until they matched the jumbled mess of Chaos and Order that existed throughout the beast.
Exerting as much of his will as he could muster, Brock attacked the Chaos, using the bacabra’s force of Order to fight back. The pressure of the effort was intense, but the Chaos eventually began to change. Rather than unravel, the small red symbols began to draw together, clustering into a single ball. The effect accelerated until a calm blue field of Order surrounded a single focal point of Chaos. The pressure eased, and Brock realized that he would be able to do no more.
He opened his eyes as the bacabra shook with a chill. It opened its eyes. He yanked his hand back, stepping away with no idea of what to expect.
“Everyone remain calm,” he said softly.
The massive creature stood, shaking itself as if wet. Its head turned toward Brock, large brown eyes meeting his. The tail, as thick as Brock’s arm began to wag as it stepped toward him. The bacabra’s mouth opened, its massive tongue lashed out and gave a slobbering lick across Brock’s face. He stepped back, sputtering and wiping the saliva away with his sleeve.
The bacabra stepped closer and nuzzled against him, nearly pushing him over. He laughed, scratching it between the ears as he would any other dog. This one just happened to be five feet tall and weigh four hundred pounds.
With a smile, he looked around to find the others looking on in amazement.
. . .
Brock could feel her returning.
“Everyone remain calm,” he said again. It seemed to be a theme around her.
Seconds later, a massive dark shape burst from the brush ahead. Jumping playfully, the bacabra shook its head, causing the dead goat in its mouth to lurch violently from side to side. She set the goat down on the ground before Brock and stepped back with her tongue hanging out.
Brock laughed. “Good girl, Wraith.”
The oversized dog’s tail wagged vigorously, causing her entire body to shake in excitement. Brock stepped past the goat and gave Wraith a hug as he scratched behind her ears. He let go, and the huge canine turned and bolted down the road, hopping playfully from side to side as she ran. He turned to find Puri with her knife out, already dressing the latest gift from Brock’s new pet.
“That’s the third animal today, Brock,” Benny said. “With your big dog around, we apparently won’t have problems finding food”
Brock laughed. “She’s just a bit enthusiastic.”
Benny stepped close as they resumed their trek north. “Are you sure we can trust her? I know she seems friendly now, but will that change?”
Brock nodded. “You guys have made your concerns clear. I get it.” He tried to explain. “It’s hard to describe, but I’ve got a connection with her now. I can feel her in my head and I get an impression of what she feels, what she’s thinking. That’s how I know when she’s coming back even before you see her.” Brock’s hand squeezed Benny’s shoulder. “Trust me; she’s now just a loveable, oversized dog. If I sense any change in her, I’ll let you know.”
Benny nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”
Ashland sidled up to Brock as she took his arm in hers. “She sure seems to adore you, which I can understand. I just hope she likes me too. I’d hate for her to be jealous of me.”
Brock laughed. “Yeah, I can see how that might be concerning. I’ll do what I can to prevent it, but I don’t think it’s in her personality. She seems too happy and playful to take you as any sort of threat.”
Ashland leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad. Although, it’s going to be hard for me to share you with her. I’m used to having you to myself.”
He kissed the top of her head, her brown curls of her hair tickling his nose. “Thanks.”
They rounded a bend and the trees thinned to reveal wide rolling fields. Not far beyond, the road split with one path continuing north and the other heading northwest. Sol Polis waited to the west, across the open fields that lay south of the city, or what remained of it. With the sun now low in th
e sky, Brock found himself faced with a decision. Thoughts of what they would find at the city made the decision easier. Instead of pushing onward and reaching the city at night, he would rather camp here and arrive at the city during the day.
He turned to address his friends.
“Let’s find a good spot to camp along the edge of the wood. Tomorrow, we’ll break camp at first light and head toward the city to find a ship as we discussed. Once on the water, we won’t have to worry about running into the Horde.”
Without argument, the others scattered in search of a good spot to stay the night.
Brock and Ashland remained on the road, looking over the open fields. Brock laughed when he saw a black dog hopping and twisting playfully through the long grass. Ashland hugged his arm tight as she laughed along with him, watching Wraith try to catch a large moth.
. . .
Leaning against Wraith, Brock relaxed on the grassy turf. He felt the slow rise and fall of her ribcage against his back. Curled up beside him, Ashland’s head lay in his lap as he paged through one of the journals they had found.
He and Benny soon determined that the entries in the journals took place four centuries earlier. However, they still hadn’t discovered the author’s identity or why the journals were so valuable.
At first, the notations seemed mundane, covering the locations and experiences gained when traveling from the Vinacci to Kalimar. Brock knew some of the cities in the books while others were unfamiliar.
Now reading in the dim light of dusk, Brock discovered that the author had journeyed to Sol Polis under a request by the Ministry with the task of developing new uses for Chaos. The writer believed Chaos to be the key to a more productive society. When details behind the author’s research began to emerge, Brock’s interest greatly increased.
“Benny, listen to this,” he looked toward his friend. “The man writing the book described himself as a Master Ecclesiast and Master Arcanist, able to wield both Order and Chaos. He notes that some individuals could use one ability or the other, but it was less common than those who could wield both. In all cases, the people who exhibited an ability with just one of the two forces showed a lesser strength than those with both abilities.”
Benny’s brow furrowed in thought. “Aren’t you and Ashland among the most powerful healers at the Academy?”
“Yes.” Brock nodded. “Varius told me that we were the two strongest Ecclesiasts the school had seen in generations.”
“And both of you can wield Chaos,” Benny said, prompting Brock.
Brock nodded as he realized what Benny was inferring. “Good point.” He thought about it, considering what they knew. “And both of us are stronger with Chaos than Tipper or Libby, who can wield Chaos but can’t wield Order.”
Benny smiled. “I wonder if the Ministry realizes that they are limiting their ability to field effective healers by weeding out Chaos users.”
Brock thought about what Benny had said. The discrimination against Chaos users was hurting the Empire more than he had thought.
“What else have you found?” Benny asked.
Brock’s gaze shifted back to the book. “Apparently, the author was trying to prove a theory. He was searching for a way to create a Chaos-induced effect that lasted a lot longer. In fact, he hoped to produce a permanent effect.”
Benny whistled. “Wow. Could you imagine it? That would be a huge advantage for anyone who had access to it.”
Brock nodded, thinking of how devastating it would be to have an army filled with soldiers permanently charged with a Power rune. Nothing could stop them.
His eyes refocused on the pages, finding the writing now impossible to read in the dying light.
“We’ll do more reading another day,” Brock said with a sigh. “It’s dark, and we all need sleep.”
Brock grabbed the loose sheet of blank paper he had torn from the second journal. Opening the folded paper, he stared hard at the image marking it. He had used a crumbling piece of debris to rub the symbol onto the paper, copying it from the etching on the Emblem Throne. Though barely discernable in the dying light, the diamond-shaped rune intrigued him. He wondered what the symbol meant. Realizing he wasn’t going to find out tonight, he folded the paper and used it to mark his progress before closing the journal.
Looking around the camp, he found everyone else already asleep. After a long day on the road, he couldn’t blame them. Twisting around, careful not to wake Ashland, Brock laid his head on Wraith’s back. With his eyes closed, his thoughts turned to what they needed to do next.
CHAPTER 52
The scene surrounding Sol Polis was grim. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air, causing numerous party members to retch miserably before continuing. Wraith didn’t like it any more than Brock did. With her ears flattened and tail down, she displayed nothing of the playfulness of the previous day.
Avoiding the city, they skirted around it as wide as they could en route to the harbor. The buildings outside the city walls were in shambles, damaged and burned. Bodies littered the streets, many torn to shreds, demonstrating the wrath that the Horde had laid upon those who lived there. The previously elegant towers of the citadel appeared a mess, with one tower collapsed in a pile of rubble while the others were scorched black. The bleak image of carrion birds circling above was the only sign of life. If anyone had survived, they surely had fled by now.
Reaching the shore, they turned north and realized they had no choice but to pass the mutilated bodies lying between them and the docks. Occasionally they would stumble across a dead banshee, but for each of those, there were scores of dead men and women. They found many of the bodies partially devoured, which made the scene even worse.
Approaching the docks, hope sparked within Brock when he spotted one lonely ship still afloat in its mooring. Stepping over and around the corpses strewn along the long wooden pier, he led them toward the ship. Sinclair’s pace quickened, passing Brock with an eager look upon his face.
When they neared the vessel, Brock noticed that the ship sported two masts. Though a fair bit smaller than Star Dancer, it was still plenty large enough for their small group.
Since the ship was floating twenty-feet out, they had to pull on the lines to reel it toward the dock. When it was about twelve feet away, Sinclair took a running jump to grab onto the rail. As he climbed over, Tenzi followed. Soon, they were laying planks across for the others to board.
As his companions crossed the planks, Brock looked back to see Wraith staring at him halfway down the dock. Her ears were back, tail down. Did she think he would leave her?
“Come on, girl!” he shouted, clapping his hand to his leg.
Her ears popped up, and she bolted down the pier toward him, the dock rumbling under her approaching weight. Brock scrambled up the planks just as the last of his friends cleared them. When he reached the ship, he spun about and watched Wraith leap from the pier. With a loud thud, she landed on the deck and knocked Sinclair down with a glancing blow. The startled captain rolled over and looked up at the hulking dog standing over him.
The man flashed a smile. “Well, then. Welcome aboard New Spirit.”
With a big lick, she drenched his face with slobber, leaving him sputtering. Everyone laughed at the captain’s plight.
CHAPTER 53
From the rigging high above the deck, Parker looked toward Tenzi. He watched her closely as Sinclair shouted orders from the quarterdeck.
“Unfurl topgallant sails! Hoist the yards!”
Copying her motion, Parker unwound the line and began pulling it downward. When the sail hit the stop, he tied the line off. A nod from Tenzi confirmed he had done it correctly. She began a quick descent down the rigging with him following close behind.
Upon reaching the deck, he looked toward the foremast to find Brock and Cameron making their descent. Those sails were also unfurled and rippled in the wind.
Sinclair turned the wheel, and the ship began to come about. The rippling grew mor
e rapid until the sails snapped full. The ship gained speed, accelerating as it crossed the bay toward the breakers. Parker glanced back and looked upon the dead city of Sol Polis. Although he knew what to expect after the attack on the city, he still hadn’t been prepared for it. He doubted that anything could prepare him for such a massive feeling of loss. He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer for Pinkus and Agatha. Remembering how Niles had died from the banshee blade, Parker added his name to the list. He wiped the moisture from his eyes and blinked to clear them.
The peaceful blue waters of the sea seemed the same as always, oblivious to the death and struggles of man. He envied the sea for a moment.
His gaze then landed on Tenzi. He often found himself looking at the short blonde. She intrigued him.
“So, what’s your deal with Sinclair anyway?”
She turned toward him, her blue eyes squinting in the sunlight. “My deal?”
Parker shrugged. “Well, you obviously went out of your way to help and protect him when he was hurt. I know he’s your captain, but I think your loyalty goes deeper.”
Tenzi glanced toward the quarterdeck, where Sinclair stood with his hands on the wheel.
“I guess it won’t hurt to tell you,” she said, her blue eyes shifting to meet his. “I grew up near the docks in Sol Gier. My mother died during birth, so I never knew her. I lived alone with my Father, who worked at the docks. While he wasn’t a big man, he was strong. He also had a temper, which grew worse when he drank.”
She paused and looked out over the water. “When I was twelve, he came home late one night to find that I hadn’t made him dinner. I tried to explain that he hadn’t given me money to buy food, but he wouldn’t have it. He beat me pretty bad. As I lay curled up in my own blood, I decided I was done with it and done with him. Though it wasn’t my first beating, I’d make sure it was my last.”
The Emblem Throne (The Runes of Issalia Book 2) Page 25