The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) (42 page)

To the distant member of my lineage,

Know that the words I speak above are true. Do your best to support the Arcanist. While he appears to be the pivot point of the struggle ahead, he is but a spark to ignite the inferno required. He cannot do this alone. The minds of man will be as important as the muscle in the dark times to come.

Issal
’
s Blessings,

Master Byland Hedgewick

Brock flipped the page to get a hint of what secrets lay inside the thick volume. He flipped through more pages, jumping to later sections of the tome. It was all the same. The entire book was written in the same odd language as the note inside the front cover: a language neither of them knew.

While wasn
’
t sure what to make of the message, Brock sensed that it was important to keep the book private. He stuffed the book into his pack, seeing the wonder he felt reflected in Benny
’
s eyes.

CHAPTER 66

With few idle moments to spare, the weeks passed quickly. Between attending classes, working on assigned projects, and rebuilding the girls
’
tower, Brock
’
s days were full. Unfortunately, that left no time to spend deciphering the book he had found.

In a race against impending winter weather, the boys and the hired masons worked past sunset every evening. With the days growing shorter, the weather also became increasingly colder. As if it were orchestrated, the first snowfall hit as they sealed the last stone block into the outer wall. While the work crew was relieved, clapping each other on the back, Brock was mesmerized. He faced the sky as the shower of white flakes drifted down. Holding his mouth open, he felt the tingle of cold snow landing on his tongue. It was wonderful.

The next day, they moved inside and began repairing the damaged floor. The baths below had remained closed since the incident, forcing the girls to bathe in the Arena changing room. During cleanup, the boys had removed all debris that had fallen into the pools. By the time they had attempted to remove the metal sphere from the pool, it had absorbed a great deal of heat and was difficult to touch for more than a few seconds. After hours of cooling on the stone floor, they were able to haul the ball from the cellar and submit it to the master engineers for analysis.

The now-famed siege engine had been confiscated as well. The Academy faculty had a great deal of interest in the catapult as they attempted to understand how it had launched the heavy ball ten times further than the previous record.

Thankfully, the headmaster had determined that the destruction was unintentional and required no further punishment. However, the repair bill had been submitted and would consume the bulk of their winnings, leaving them each with two gold imperials from the five that they had won.

On the third Seventh Day after the Catapult Challenge, they completed the last of the repairs. After almost a month of dedicated effort, they were free. Brock made a visit to the baths, relishing the heat on his weary muscles. He then changed into clean clothes before going in search of Ashland.

During the past month, they had seen little of each other. They found time for short interludes in between classes, but it wasn
’
t enough. On the days she wasn
’
t having lunch with Master Varius, they sat and ate together. It still wasn
’
t enough. Ashland deserved more attention than that.

After checking her room, the library, and the dining hall, anxiety began to churn inside. He really wanted to see her. He
needed
to see her. Stepping outside, he scanned the lawn, squinting at the brightness of the snow-covered ground. Scattered evergreens and bare gray trees were dark towers among the white fields. Small light flakes drifted from the pale gray skies above. Brock ignored the snow. His focus was on finding Ashland.

With a mixture of inspiration and desperation, he headed toward the Ecclesiastic
’
s Wing. When he opened the door to the Training Temple, his anxiety instantly evaporated.

Ashland stood on the dais, having a conversation with Varius. Brock took a seat near the door and waited. Varius turned to descend the dais, walking up the sloped aisle. She flashed a smile at Brock as she passed him to exit the building.

Sitting alone, he watched Ashland prepare the dais as Varius directed. When she finished, she glanced in his direction and a smile lit her face. Despite the distance, her smile made his heart sing.

Unable to wait any longer, he stood and approached the dais. Ashland descended the stairs and met him at the bottom. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in tight as he kissed her. Her arms hugged him, squeezing tightly. When their lips parted, he stared into the depths of her blue eyes. He felt joy in his soul.

“
I
’
ve missed you,
”
she said.

“
I
’
ve missed you too,
”
Brock replied with a grin.
“
Just for you, I
’
ll try not to destroy any parts of the school for a while.
”

Ashland smiled.
“
Just for me? I do feel special now. In fact, I believe that the Academy owes me for preventing its certain destruction.
”

“
Well, I owe you as well,
”
he said.
“
I owe you some personal attention. Which reminds me: have you eaten dinner yet? I
’
m starving, and I thought we could eat together.
”

“
No, I haven
’
t.
”

She released her arms. He reluctantly did the same. Hooking her arm in his, she walked him toward the exit. Grinning, she glanced toward him as she spoke.

“
Let
’
s get some food. I
’
m sure my master of destruction is famished from his hard work.
”

CHAPTER 67

Brock screamed as Budakis reset the break. The pain was intense, almost too much to handle. Tears and sweat streaked down his face. The healer stepped in to take over. Placing her hand on Brock
’
s arm, she closed her eyes.

Glancing at the grotesque wound where the bone had broken through the skin, Brock longed for the healing to take the pain away. A violent chill shook him when the icy wave swept through his body. The air expelled from his lungs, leaving him gasping to reclaim it. He lifted his arm, marveling at the lack of pain. Even after being healed a half dozen times and acting as the healer another half dozen times, he remained amazed by the process. That it was even possible seemed beyond reality.

“
Thank you, Fion,
”
Brock said as she removed her hand from his arm.
“
I appreciate it. You
’
re a wonderful healer.
”

A shy smile crossed the girl
’
s face as her eyes flicked up at him, then away again.
“
You
’
re welcome, Brock.
”

She bent over, her black hair dangling in the air as she retrieved her basket.
“
Would you like some bread?
”
She held the basket out to him, her eyes not meeting his.

“
Yes, thank you.
”
He grabbed two chunks. With lunch soon approaching, he was hungry prior to the injury. The healing left him famished.

The girl gave him a small bow and retreated to the stands. Brock tore a bite, chewing vigorously as he watched her depart.

“
I
’
m sorry, Brock.
”

He turned toward Cameron, who held his sparring helmet under one arm.

“
Trust me, if anyone is sorry, it
’
s me.
”
Brock smiled when confusion clouded Cam
’
s face.
“
I
’
m sorry that I somehow got stuck with you as my sparring partner.
”

Cam smiled.
“
Well, you did get me pretty good last week.
”

Brock bit into the bread and bent to retrieve his helmet, which he had tossed aside after the injury.

“
I was able to fracture your leg once in what, seven weeks?
”
They began walking toward the changing room.
“
In the meantime, you
’
ve smashed me to the ground, broke four fingers, two ribs, and now my arm. That doesn
’
t even count the dozens of bruises and one throbbing headache. Thank Issal that we only spar once a week.
”

“
I can ask Budakis to pair me with someone else,
”
Cam offered.

“
No.
”
Brock shook his head.
“
Even if I thought he
’
d listen, it would send the wrong message. He says that we need to be ready to fight the best because you never know who you might face in battle. If I avoid fighting you, he will think less of me. I don
’
t want to let him down like that.
”

He chewed on the second piece of bread as he led Cam into the changing room.

Cameron set his helmet on a shelf and unstrapped his shield.
“
We have another week before we spar. Maybe you
’
ll learn a move that
’
ll put you on top again.
”

“
Again? What are you talking about?
”
Brock said incredulously.
“
Every week, you
’
ve got me on the run for the whole bout, barely surviving and rarely even touching you. It usually ends when I slip up and you whack me a good one. I got lucky one time and that was because you stumbled.
”

“
Well, you did get me,
”
Cam said with a smile.

Brock rolled his eyes, pulling his vest over his head and stuffing it into his laundry bag.

“
In addition to
not
sparring with you, I
’
m looking forward to the battle tactics session tomorrow. It
’
s become quite interesting.
”
Brock sat on the bench to remove his boots.
“
At first, I didn
’
t understand the dynamics, but it
’
s grown on me. It
’
s like a puzzle. It seems like a jumbled mess at first, but when you understand how the pieces fit together, it
’
s beautiful.
”

Cam snorted.
“
Well, maybe you can help me because I
’
m still struggling with that stuff.
”

“
Like what?
”
Brock asked, pulling his other boot off.
“
Do you mean terrain advantages? Or maybe the strengths and weaknesses of different military units? Or about field feints and positioning?
”

Cam shrugged,
“
All of it, I guess.
”

Brock began to remove his breeches.
“
I
’
ll make you a deal. I
’
ll help you with tactics if you don
’
t end up killing me when we spar.
”
He flashed a smile at his large roommate.

“
That works for me,
”
Cam replied, his face serious.
“
I won
’
t kill you, then.
”

CHAPTER 68

It was getting late. While the sun set much earlier in the winter, it had been down for hours. Brock and Benny sat in the otherwise empty lounge, each hunched over a thick tome.

Brock stared at the gibberish scrawled on the pages of the book he had found. Between the symbols and the foreign text, he had no idea what he was looking at. The characters used were so fundamentally different that had no idea where to begin.

A sigh escaped as he sat back in his chair. He took a sip of his caffe, which had gone cold while he focused on the translation. After looking over his pointless notes, he crumpled the paper into a ball in frustration.