The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) (16 page)

“
You go ahead and wash up first,
”
he said to Tipper.

“
Good idea,
”
Tipper responded.
“
I hope that food shows up soon. I
’
m starving.
”

Tipper threw his cloak on a bed. After his boots were off, he removed the shirt from his thin frame and stepped to the bucket. While he was washing, there was a knock on the door.

Brock answered. A young woman handed him two mugs of cider and a steaming hot meat pie with two forks stuck into it. He thanked her and closed the door before setting the mugs and the pie on the table. Under the pie were two plates. He handed one to Tipper, who had finished drying off. Brock took the other, using a fork to scoop half of the pie onto his plate. The aroma made his stomach growl. Tipper flashed a grin and scooped the remaining pie onto his plate, not waiting for it to cool before he dug in.

The boys ate in silence until every bit was gone and both mugs were empty. Brock then took off his shirt and began to wash. Tipper sat in quiet for a moment before speaking.

“
Brock, why do you think these people hate me so much?
”

He faced Tipper as he dried his face.

“
I
’
ve been thinking about that, Tip. It
’
s not that they hate you. I think that maybe they
’
re afraid of you, afraid of what they don
’
t understand.
”
Brock dried his arms and torso as he continued.
“
That big guy at the inn said there weren
’
t any Unchosen around here, and he hadn
’
t seen one in years. They aren
’
t used to us. They don
’
t know any better. Instead, they
’
ve somehow twisted the doctrine the Ministry preaches and made it even worse.
”

Tipper shook his head.
“
That
’
s something else I don
’
t understand. There must be a hundred Unchosen in Kantar. Surely, there must be
some
who are born here.
”

Brock sat on the bed.
“
You
’
re right. There would have to be some Unchosen born here. I wonder where they are now.
”

CHAPTER 23

Brock stopped by the kitchen to purchase a couple sausages and a loaf of bread before leaving. He handed Tipper a sausage and stuffed the bread into his pack. With their early start, they were miles north of Sarville when the sun emerged between two peaks to the east.

By mid-day, clouds began to roll in, obscuring the sun. A few hours later, the clouds darkened and the wind increased, blowing from the north down the length of the valley.

No sooner did the boys don their cloaks than it began to pour. The wind drove the rain into their faces as they trudged north on the winding Greenway Road. Puddles pooled in dips dotting the road. Washes crossing the road flowed toward the river. Brock glanced toward the river, noting the heavy flow of waters racing past them. It would be bad to be swept into it during a storm like this.

It wasn
’
t long before the road turned to mud, causing them to slip and slide while they walked. The mud would sometimes grab ahold of their feet. They would pull hard to break their boots from its grip, creating a
“
pop
”
sound when coming free. Now feeling cold and wet, the hot dry days marking the first half of their journey seemed a distant memory.

After an hour, the storm began to lighten, becoming a steady rain rather than a heavy torrent. By that time, they were soaked through and through. With daylight failing and the rain persisting, they needed to find shelter so they could dry off and get some rest.

“
Look for someplace dry we can stay for the night,
”
Brock said to Tipper.

Ten minutes later, Tipper tapped Brock
’
s shoulder. He looked toward where Tipper pointed, spotting a dark spot among an outcropping of rocks. It appeared to be a cave, but was difficult to be sure in the dying light.

Brock nodded, and they turned from the road, navigating through the brush toward the rock formation. As they drew close, he could tell that it was indeed a cave. He climbed up the stack of wet rocks, slipping a few times along the way. Stepping under the over-hanging rock, he thanked Issal when he pulled his hood down and felt no rain.

Removing his glowstick, he activated it to get a look at the interior of the cave. The rock ceiling was high enough that Tipper couldn
’
t touch it. Stepping into the dark opening, Brock judged the cave to be at least ten strides deep. With a width that was about half the depth, it was perfect.

They set their packs down and began wringing moisture from their clothes near the cave entrance. They then moved farther in and sat to eat.

Still cold and damp, they soon settled in to get some sleep.

CHAPTER 24

A noise woke Brock. He sat up, his clothes still damp. Sweeping the crust from his eyes, he blinked to shake the cobwebs from his brain.

Recognizing his surroundings, he remembered the cave they had found to escape the rain. Early morning light was emanating from the entrance. Tipper lay beside him, still sound asleep. In the dim light, Brock noticed something next to Tipper.

He leaned close to get a better look, seeing bones he hadn
’
t noticed in the dark of night. Near the bones, rows of four parallel lines marked the surface of the rock. His chest constricted as he realized that something lived here, something large.

A howl echoed in the forest outside the cave.

Brock urgently shook Tipper.

“
What? What
’
s happening?
”
Tipper blurted, sitting up in confusion.

“
Shh.
”
Brock whispered.
“
Be quiet. There
’
s something out there.
”

Tipper rubbed his eyes.
“
Huh? What are you talking about?
”

A shadow eclipsed the light at the mouth of the cave. As Brock turned toward the entrance, his breath caught in his throat.

Against the light of the morning sky, the silhouette of a massive four-legged creature blocked the opening. Whatever it was, they were in its home and it was angry.

A low growl sounded, its ferocity rumbling in the small cave. Backing away in fear, Brock stumbled when he collided with a boulder near the rear of the cave. Scrambling to his feet, his mind raced. The beast blocked the only exit.

This was like the banshee attack at Glowridge Pass. They were trapped in a hopeless situation with no way out. His mind drifted back to that event and he reacted.

Without realizing what he was doing, Brock scooped a bone from the cave floor and began scraping a symbol on the boulder: the same rune he had drawn on Hank.

The creature stepped forward, snarling as it stalked its prey. The smell of wet animal filled the cave, mixing with the smell of fear from Brock and Tipper.

Spurred by desperation, Brock closed his eyes and began pushing with his will. He felt the same force as last time, just beyond himself. Pushing harder, he latched onto it and his body grew flush with hot energy. A storm raged within, threatening to destroy him. He opened his eyes and poured the energy into the rune. It glowed bright red, pulsing as the boulder began to shake.

Brock backed from the advancing creature into the rear of the cave, against Tipper
’
s cowering form.

The boulder suddenly burst. Bits of rock pelted him, cutting hands held up to protect his face from the beast. The creature leapt back from the blast, dozens of small shards hitting its face and body. It growled in rage.

Brock lowered his throbbing hand to see what had happened. The boulder moved toward the beast. The round headless body of the rock marched on four legs made of stone, emitting crunching and grinding sounds with each movement.

The hairy beast attacked, swinging vicious swipes with its huge paws. Sharp claws scraped the hard surface of the living boulder and bounced off harmlessly. The beast backed away, but the boulder continued to advance.

The beast attacked again, with little result. The boulder relentlessly forced it backwards.

The animal was now outside, its red eyes squinting in the pale light of pre-dawn. It made one last swipe and then bolted.

The boulder turned the corner to give chase. One leg stepped over the edge, and it disappeared. The rumbling and crunching sound of a small rockslide followed as it tumbled away.

The cave became silent.

“
What in the blazes? Brock, what did you do?
”
Tipper shouted.
“
What was that thing? What
’
s happening?
”

“
I don
’
t know!
”
Brock yelled back. He was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself.
“
I don
’
t know, Tipper. I had to do something, and it just came to me. I don
’
t know what it is.
”

“
It
’
s like what happened with Hank. You did it again with that big rock,
”
Tipper said.

“
Yeah. I know,
”
Brock replied.
“
I wish I knew what it was, but I don
’
t.
”

Brock grabbed his pack and headed toward the entrance.
“
Let
’
s get out of here before that thing comes back.
”

Stepping outside the cave, he looked down. The rock-thing lay at the bottom of the outcropping. The legs had broken off the boulder, pieces still twitching. A shiver went down Brock
’
s spine.

“
That
’
s creepy,
”
Tipper said.

Nodding, Brock began to climb down as the first rays of morning sun streaked across the valley.

CHAPTER 25

“
It
’
s definitely Fallbrandt. We made it, Tipper.
”
Brock stored the map, now worn and crumpled from the harsh treatment of their travels.

“
Well, not yet,
”
Tipper replied.
“
It
’
s still miles away.
”

Brock shrugged.
“
Okay. In another hour or so, we
’
ll be there.
”

After the encounter with the huge animal at the cave, their journey had been event-free. In fact, it had been rather pleasant.

Compared to the lower lands to the west, the early summer weather in the Greenway Valley was mild. With the tall trees providing shade along the road, they were able to avoid direct sunlight for all but a small portion of the day. As they travelled north, the valley floor seemed to perpetually rise, slowly gaining altitude.

The boys had spent the previous night in a small clearing encircled with thick pines, not far from the road. After diligent effort, Tipper was able to start a small fire using his flint. The dead wood they had gathered burned hot and fast, giving the boys a sense of comfort as they talked until drifting to sleep.

Two and a half days after leaving Sarville, the gradual incline steepened as they passed over a low saddle. That is when they first caught sight of Fallbrandt, nestled along the mirror-like lake bearing the same name.

Stuffing the map back into his pack, Brock started down the road. It was the first downhill slope they had encountered in days. He felt good. In fact, he felt better than he had felt in a long time. The majestic surroundings of the past day seemed to melt the wear of the miles away. Now within sight of his goal, his spirits had never been higher.

As they walked the last few miles, Brock
’
s mind wandered to thoughts about the Academy. He had been so focused on getting there that he hadn
’
t considered what was required to be accepted. Just being marked by the rune of Issal wasn
’
t going to be enough. The Academy was only so big. They couldn
’
t let everyone in or they would run out of space. It didn
’
t matter. He was committed. His path was set, and he was going to get in. Somehow, he would find a way.