A Warden's Purpose (Wardens of Issalia Book 1) Read online

When she held the bow out, Jasmine snatched it from her.

  “Now, your quiver.”

  “I didn’t do this, Sergeant.” Quinn slid the quiver off her shoulder. “I would never shoot a fellow soldier.”

  Jasmine examined the quiver as she grabbed it. “Why are there only eight arrows? Each cadet had a full dozen when we left the academy.”

  Glancing past Simone’s body, Quinn stared at where she had been crouching before she fled back to camp. “I had an arrow nocked. I dropped it over there when I ran.” She recalled falling during her flight. “I also stumbled once, and a few more fell out of my quiver.”

  Jasmine glanced at Vi before responding. The other girl kept her bow aimed at Quinn.

  “We found no tracks among the trees. No broken branches. Nothing that would indicate anyone had been there.” Jasmine had never appeared more serious. “Other than your story, we can find no proof of this attack you describe. The only thing I can confirm is that two cadets are dead. Whether you are the one who murdered them is the only thing in question.” She nodded firmly. “Yes. This was murder.”

  Quinn stared at Jasmine in shock as she realized the gravity of her situation. At that moment, white flakes began to fall. Yet, the weather was balmy compared to the looks upon the faces before her. Suspicion of betrayal hung in the air like a cold, dark blanket that threatened to smother her.

  The group walked back to the camp with Jasmine in the lead, Vi following Quinn from behind. When they arrived, Quinn was placed under the watchful eyes of Vi and Lissa while they waited for the other girls to return. The day was cut short and they soon struck camp, stopping to gather the two dead cadets before heading back toward the academy.

  Trapped between frustration about her situation and fear of what might happen to her, Quinn fell into a daze that left her numb. The journey back to the valley passed without her even noticing. As they arrived at the school, thick white flakes were gathering on the long grass and dotting the gravel paths – the first snow of the year.

  The squad entered the building, led by Lissa while Vi and Jasmine took Quinn to the Infirmary. Russel, the enforcer on duty, opened a cell door, and Quinn shuffled inside a tiny room furnished with nothing but a small bed. Turning to face the door, she found Jasmine wearing a grim expression, her eyes reflecting a mixture of disappointment and disapproval. That was the last thing Quinn saw before the heavy door slammed closed. A key slid into the lock, securing it with an ominous click.

  Quinn sat on the bed – alone and without any idea how she might prove her innocence. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms about her shins, and rested her head as she cried.

  24

  The Arcane Ward

  Everson paused his story and found himself wishing for clothes, or a blanket, or anything to cover himself. The cell was cold and his smallclothes were little protection against it.

  He took a deep breath and resumed his story.

  “When I returned to the school after visiting my parents, Donnell, Ivy, and I focused on completing our creation with the Inventor Challenge fast approaching.” Everson recalled other events and his tone grew somber. “At the same time, I had other…issues. Some of which offered motivation to win…to prove myself.”

  “Hand me the large gear.”

  Everson held his open hand out and waited. When Ivy placed the cool metal disk in his palm, he shifted it until he held it between his finger and thumb. Moving carefully, he held it toward the assembly.

  Through the magnifying lenses strapped to his head, the gear entered his field of vision, the circular shape appearing four times larger than reality. He slid a small rod through the hole in the center and through two washers before inserting the rod into the hole he had made in the assembly wall. When he pushed the gear down, he turned it slightly until the teeth aligned with the neighboring gear. The fit was perfect.

  Gripping the magnifying lenses, he pulled them off his head and put them on the bench. A sigh slipped out as he gazed upon the assembly. It was coming together, but there was no way to test it until it was complete. He looked up and found Ivy staring at him. She blinked in surprise and turned toward the bench.

  “The washers were a good idea. If the gears become misaligned, the friction of rubbing on the assembly housing could be problematic.” He smiled at Ivy as she looked at him again. “Thank you for that.”

  The girl shrugged and stared toward the floor as she spoke. “It was nothing. I’m sure you would have thought of it yourself when you began assembling it.”

  He frowned. “You should be more confident in yourself, Ivy. You’re a smart girl. You belong here as much as anybody else does.”

  A smile quivered at the edge of her mouth. Her eyes flicked toward his face, and she quickly turned away again.

  “Thank you, Everson,” she mumbled.

  Everson turned the opposite direction, toward his other partner in this venture.

  “How’s the housing coming?”

  Donnell looked up from his carving and shrugged. “Fine I guess. I almost have it hollowed out enough.”

  “Keep up the good work,” Everson said. “Appearance is nearly as important as function.”

  Everson sat back and took stock of the parts piled upon the workbench, waiting to join the assembly. He turned toward the partially assembled mechanism and imagined the gears turning. The mere thought brought him excitement, despite his weariness. Scooping up his canes, he pushed himself into a standing position.

  “It’s late. We can reconvene tomorrow after class.”

  “The competition is only a few days away,” Donnell noted.

  Everson nodded. “True. Other than the housing, we have all the components crafted. If you can finish it tomorrow, we can complete the assembly and should have it up and running the next day.”

  Donnell eyed his work for a moment. “I’m sure I can get it finished tomorrow.”

  Ivy smiled. “We will finally get to see it working.”

  Doubt flashed across Donnell’s face, but he said nothing. Everson decided to let it pass.

  “I’m off for a late dinner and then to bed.” Everson began shuffling his way toward the door. “Goodnight, you two.”

  When he stepped into the hallway, he spotted someone who looked like Jonah walking down the Arcanist Wing corridor, a hundred paces away. He stared at the student, attempting to determine if it were Jonah. Dressing in a blue novice coat, the boy approached the black doors at the end of the hall, opened them, and disappeared outside. Everson frowned. Was that Jonah? Regardless, no novice student would be allowed in the Arcane Ward.

  Curious, he shuffled forward, passed the central corridor, and entered the opposite hallway. He glanced toward the closed door to his Chaos Theory classroom as he passed it. It’s late and the classroom is likely empty…as empty as the hallways. He approached the black doors at the end of the corridor, and his gaze shifted toward the sign above them. Seeking resolve, he took a breath, pulled the door open, and shuffled through.

  Brisk evening air struck him, cold enough that his breath visibly steamed from his lips. He stopped and looked around, open-mouthed as he gazed up at the massive tower.

  It stood twelve stories tall, wide and square and windowless – a dark and ominous monolith that blocked much of the starlit sky from Everson’s view.

  Everson’s gaze lowered, and he noticed two armed guards standing fifty-feet away, before a pair of massive black doors. Glowlamps to the side of each set of doors lit the alcove. When he glanced to the left, he found a wall, two stories tall and built from the same stone as the tower. Another guard stood outside the wall, beside a glowlamp and a black door that matched the others.

  Light from the glowlamps behind him and across from him illuminated the cobblestone covering the ground between academy, the tower, and the wall. To his right was a road that rounded the south side of the tower and ran between it and the Arena.

  Jonah – or the student who might be Jonah – was nowhere in si
ght.

  With lips pressed together in determination, Everson shuffled forward. The thumping of his boots and the thud of his canes were the only sounds he heard, the sound echoing loudly as he knew it would. To counter his nervousness, Everson imagined the soundwaves bouncing off the hard surfaces of the narrow space as they found their way back to his ears.

  When he approached the two guards, he gave them a hopeful smile.

  “Hello. I was just coming to meet a friend. Did you see him pass by?”

  The guard on the left, a woman dressed in black leathers with metal plates and a shiny metal helm to match, frowned.

  “You cannot enter without a writ.”

  “Did you see my friend? He was wearing a blue academy coat, like mine. He just passed this way.”

  The other guard responded, the man’s deep voice drawing Everson’s attention. “We saw nothing. Now, if you don’t have a writ, I strongly suggest you return to the school before you are arrested.”

  Everson glanced toward the black doors as he struggled with his curiosity. Beyond those doors were secrets…

  After a moment, he turned around and retreated to the school. As he crossed the open space again, he thought about what he had observed. It is impossible for a student to sneak across this space unseen. There is too much light. It is too open. Any sound is amplified and sends echoes throughout. His mouth turned down in a frown as he considered the situation.

  Upon reentering the building, he headed toward the dining hall with the conundrum still turning inside his head.

  When he entered the room, Everson found a group of fellow engineering students eating together – two girls and two boys. He collected his courage as he approached the table.

  “Hello Freya, Juni,” he said to the girls before turning toward the boys. “Hi, Sakan, Yeldin.”

  The boys nodded toward him, while the girls replied, “Hello, Everson.”

  “I’m sorry to intrude, but I was wondering if one of you could help me get food from the kitchen.” Everson found himself biting his lip as he waited for a response.

  Freya glanced toward the others and shrugged. “Sure. I’ll...”

  “No.” Sakan put his hand on her shoulder before she could stand. “If he’s so smart, I’m sure he can figure it out himself.”

  Freya frowned. “Sakan…”

  The boy ignored her. “Go on, stick legs. Get your own food.”

  Everson swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away before the tear could surface. He shuffled toward the kitchen, blinking to clear the moisture from his eyes.

  The server approached the counter, and Everson gave her a weak smile. “I’m late for dinner. What you have you got for me?”

  She wiped the sweat from her brow. “I have jackaroo stew and hard rolls.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  Spinning about, she faded into the kitchen and soon returned with a bowl of stew in one hand, a plate with two rolls in the other. She rested it on the counter, spun about, and walked away.

  Everson stared at the bowl, considering how to hold it while using his canes. Bending, he looped his right arm about the bowl and pulled it against his hip. Using his other hand, he squeezed the plate with his thumb and forefinger while still gripping the cane. Moving cautiously, he shuffled out of the kitchen.

  Hearing laughter, he looked toward the occupied table and found Sakan pointing toward Everson, Yeldin laughing with him. The girls, however, appeared upset. Everson squeezed harder when he felt the bowl slipping. He stopped and shifted, but was unable to stop it from tipping forward. Hot stew poured down his leg and into his boot.

  “Argh!” he cried as it burned him. The bowl slipped the remainder of the way, crashed to the floor, and shattered. With his attention on the stew, he dropped the plate in his other hand. It collided with the stone tile, chipped, and sent the two rolls tumbling across the floor.

  Loud laughter came from the two boys watching. Embarrassed by his inability to perform a simple task, Everson refused to look their way.

  “What’s wrong with you two?”

  Hearing a male voice, Everson turned to find Torney standing over their table.

  “It won’t kill you to help him.”

  Sakan stood and faced Torney. “Leave off, Torney. If you like the turd, you go help him. In the meantime, stay out of my face.”

  Torney’s eyes narrowed. “I believe your face could use a few adjustments, Sakan. I find it difficult to look at.”

  Sakan’s cheeks grew red, his lips pressing together until they were white. Freya put her hand on his arm. “Just let it go, Sakan. You should have just let me help Everson in the first place.”

  Looking at his companions for support, Sakan found none. With a grunt of disgust, he pushed past Torney and headed toward the door.

  Torney walked over to Everson and shook his head. “You made a mess again, I see.” He gestured toward an open table. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll get you another bowl of stew and someone from the kitchen to help clean this up.”

  Everson shuffled toward the table. In the back of his mind, thoughts of young Torney bullying him resurfaced. The boy had changed for the better. He hoped that Sakan would someday do the same.

  After eating a bowl of cold stew and a hard roll, Everson headed to his room. He found the door locked, the room dark and empty when he entered. A quick shake of the glowlamp on the desk brought it to life, lighting the room in a soft blue light.

  Exhausted from a long day, Everson sat on his bed and began to undress, tossing his soiled clothing into the laundry bin. Thankfully, each student had been provided multiple uniforms. One such set remained clean and waited in the wardrobe. As he slid under his covers, the door opened and Jonah entered.

  “You were out late,” Everson noted.

  “I…um…went to meditate…you know…for ecclesiast training.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I was in the dining hall. It was empty and quiet since it’s late.”

  “Funny.” Everson said in a flat voice. “I was just there to eat a late meal. I didn’t see you.”

  Jonah shrugged as he began to unbutton his coat. “I must have left before you were there.”

  “Where did you go after that?”

  A frown crossed Jonah’s face, and he turned away to hang his coat on a hook, “Why all the questions?”

  Everson pressed his lips together, feeling a moment of frustration. “Did you go into the Arcane Ward?”

  Jonah’s head shot about, his eyes wary as he stared at Everson. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “I saw you go through the black doors.”

  “You saw me do what?” Jonah’s brow furrowed.

  “I was leaving the Foundry late, and I watched you pass through the doors that lead to the tower. I tried to follow, but the guards stopped me.”

  Jonah shook his head. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I wasn’t in the Ward. Like you said, it’s off limits. The guards would have stopped me, too.”

  “But…”

  “I don’t appreciate being accused.” Jonah sat on the bed and pulled his boots off. “I thought we were friends, Everson.”

  “Of course we are.”

  “Well, you’re not being very friend-like right now. I told you I was practicing meditation and then I went for a short walk on the lawn. That’s it.”

  A stab of guilt made Everson think of losing Jonah as a friend. He didn’t have many friends and surely didn’t want that to happen.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess it was someone else.”

  25

  Timekeeper

  Everson sat between Donnell and Ivy, the three of them on the third row of benches arranged at one end of the Arena floor. Opposite from them were seven academy masters, seated among nine chairs near the center of the massive building.

  Students dressed in blue coats filled the benches that encircled the oval-shaped floor, engaged in noisy chatter. When he looked towar
d the stands, Everson judged the front row of benches to be ten feet above him and the back row three times that.

  Master Nindlerod descended a narrow flight of stairs to the Arena floor and hobbled toward the center. Upon reaching it, he held a cone-shaped object to his mouth and bellowed.

  “Be still!”

  The rush of the crowd eased to a whisper and the man nodded.

  “Thank you all for coming. You are about to witness the latest creations from some of the brightest minds in the academy. Each year, we challenge our students to imagine and create something that might change the world.

  “These seven masters will join me and one other in judging today’s contest. Who is the other, you ask?”

  The man chuckled and gestured toward the far end of the floor. “I present to you, the man who created the Hedgewick Flyer, the Hedgewick Rider, the Perpetual Oven, and many other inventions, Master Benedict Hedgewick.”

  Applause filled the air as a man appeared from one of the doors at the end of the building. With a mess of dark brown hair atop his head, the middle-aged man waved to the crowd as he strolled toward the heart of the floor. Everson had heard of Benny Hedgewick, but this was his first time seeing the man. Sporting a wry grin and rectangular spectacles to go with his rumpled purple and black coat, the man appeared amazingly…normal.

  When he reached Nindlerod, the two men gripped the other’s shoulder and said a few quiet words to each other. Nindlerod then handed the cone to Hedgewick before hobbling over to his seat.

  The crowd quieted, and Hedgewick lifted the cone to his mouth. “Welcome, everyone. I don’t have time for many appearances any longer, but I make it a point to attend this event.

  “Since I was a child, I have firmly believed that the minds of mankind can be used to enrich people’s lives and make this world a better place.” The man rocked his shoulders in a quirky manner as he spoke, his face squinting and twitching now and then. “Like myself, Master Nindlerod, and those who came to the academy before us, these students represent the embodiment of that belief. I look forward to discovering the wondrous ideas they have brought to fruition.”