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

  Reaching into his pocket, the man withdrew a folded piece of paper and read off the names of the first team. Sakan, Yeldin, Freya, and Juni rose from the bench in front of Everson, the two girls heading toward the middle of the floor as the boys walked toward a cart at the side of the Arena. A black sheet covered a bulky object resting upon the cart, similar to other carts waiting nearby. Everson’s gaze fell upon the sheet-covered object, and he tried to determine what creation hid beneath.

  The crowd fell silent as the cart rolled toward the center of the floor. Wooden wheels squeaked in protest to the weight, accompanied by grunts coming from the boys pushing the cart.

  When all four students met in the center of the floor, the two pushing the cart stood beside it, each boy gripping a corner of the sheet. The girls turned toward the seated masters. Freya cleared her throat and spoke loudly.

  “We present to you an invention that will change the world forever.”

  She turned toward Sakan and gave him a nod. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but choked on the words. His bravado appeared to have faded before the multitude of eyes watching him. After noisily clearing this throat, he tried again.

  “You already know the steam engine, the steam cleaner, and vegetable steamer. We are here to show you that steam can do more.”

  Juni stopped before the cart and smiled as she gestured toward the object behind the sheet. “Presenting…steam blades.”

  With a flourish, Yeldin and Sakan pulled the sheet back, but it hooked on something that tore a hole in the sheet, leaving a shiny metal blade sticking through the fabric. After fighting with it a bit, the two boys were able to unhook the sheet and remove it to reveal their creation.

  The bulk of the unit consisted of a metal stove and boiler with two cylinders at the top. A series of levers and two cams connected a pair of butcher knives to the cylinders. Yeldin opened the stove door and flue, poked at the coals, and added a chunk of wood. Dark smoke oozed out of the small chimney and white steam puffed from the exhaust. As the fire grew hotter, the steam increased until the pistons began to move up and down, and, in turn, moved the knives up and down. With each rotation of the cam, a knife would thump against a cutting board located on the front of the unit. Sakan pulled the cutting board out and placed a carrot upon it. He then slid the cutting board in and the knives began to chop the vegetable into tiny slices.

  A few of the masters watching the scene nodded. Some even smiled. Master Hedgewick frowned and leaned forward with narrowed eyes.

  Freya turned toward the masters and announced, “Behold how rapidly this machine can slice five potatoes.”

  Yeldin adjusted a lever and the machine whistled with increased pressure. The pistons began to pump faster, and the rate of the chopping knives increased. He then placed five potatoes on the cutting board and stood back as Sakan eased the board beneath the fast-chopping knives. As the knives grew louder, so did the chatter and applause from the crowd.

  The whirling blades hacked the first potato into thin disks in moments. During the third slice of the second potato, a crack sounded. The fifth brought a louder crack. When the knives dropped for the seventh slice, a blade broke free and flung forward, striking Sakan. He staggered back and looked down in surprise at the blade buried in his shoulder. The machine continued unaware as it frantically chopped with its remaining blade and the bladeless handle.

  Stunned, the crowd fell to silence. Sakan’s eyes rolled back and he fell backward, fainting on the dirt floor.

  Freya screamed. “Sakan!”

  The crowd erupted with cries and shouts.

  Everson leaned forward to see better, trying to determine if the boy were dead. He then spotted Rena racing down the stairs to the arena floor with Torney a step behind. She ran to Sakan’s side and knelt beside him with her hand on his forehead. Torney knelt to the boy’s other side as he hastily wrapped a handkerchief about his hand.

  She said something Everson couldn’t hear. Torney grimaced, gripped the knife blade with his wrapped hand, and yanked it out.

  Blood spurted from the wound, but Rena’s eyes already were closed. A moment passed, and the blood settled as a violent shiver shook Sakan’s body. His eyes flashed open, and he gasped a deep breath as Rena opened her eyes.

  Rena and Torney each grabbed an arm as they helped Sakan stand. He glanced down at his navy coat, the breast turned dark purple from the blood. His face turned a shade whiter and his knees gave. Rena and Torney caught him and helped him regain his footing before walking him to the side of the Arena.

  Inventions of numerous applications were presented to the panel. Some, Everson found to be ingenious and useful. Others displayed little to no innovation – merely stale copies of someone else’s idea.

  After the first ten teams had presented, Everson knew that his primary competition was the stitching machine built by Henrick’s team. The idea itself was not particularly inspired since it only involved applying existing ideas a new way, but its usefulness was undeniable.

  Master Hedgewick lifted the cone to his mouth and his voice rang throughout the Arena. “The next team to present includes Everson Gulagas, Ivy Fluerian, and Donnell Banks.”

  Everson glanced at his teammates and found them watching him. He gave them a nod as he gripped his canes. They peeled off while he stood and shuffled toward the heart of the Arena. When he settled before the seated panel of masters, he turned to find Donnell and Ivy pushing a hand cart with a covered object resting upon it, the top of which was roughly even with Donnell’s head.

  Everson’s turned from his companions to the crowd and his breath caught. Raw, irrational fear had squeezed the air from him and left his heart racing, his palms sweaty. So many people staring at me, waiting for me to speak.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and sought rational thought. Past moments of fear resurfaced, moments where Quinn had been there to save him. Her face appeared in his mind’s eye – smiling, strong, confident. Air refilled his lungs as they regained their function. Holding on to the thought of her beside him, he opened his eyes and found Donnell and Ivy standing nearby, each to one side of the parked cart. Everson gave them a nod and turned toward the panel of masters.

  “Time. It is what man values most, but controls least. We are born. We live. We die. The moments that pass are ephemeral and intangible.

  “As mankind is prone to do, we have created definitions for time. From seconds to centuries, we have this idea for how time functions, yet our ability to track it is pathetic at best.

  “Meet me at noon, you say to a friend. How do we define noon? By the position of the sun with little else to inform us.

  “Be back in an hour, you are told. To do so requires an hourglass or sundial, yet both lack accuracy or practicality.

  “We present to you an invention that changes how you will view time…forever.”

  Everson turned toward Donnell and Ivy and nodded. They each grabbed fist full of the black sheet and pulled it back, revealing their creation. Standing three feet tall, three feet long, and a foot deep, was a wooden structure with rounded corners and stained panels. Three bronze disks covered the front of the invention. The edge of each disk was lined with teeth that interlocked with the neighboring disk and the face of each disk was marked at the edges. The lower two disks held sixty marks, while the upper disk contained twenty-four marks.

  “Presenting: The timekeeper,” Everson announced loudly to the crowd. “Donnell, please wind the coil.”

  Donnell gripped a knob that stuck from the side of the machine and began to turn it, the thing making a series of clicks with each motion. As the boy wound the coil, Everson explained the concept to the audience.

  “Tracking time, down to the second – the mere blink of an eye – is now possible with this machine.” He shuffled toward it, pointing at the bottom disk. “This wheel represents seconds and will turn a full revolution every minute. When it does, it will trigger the middle wheel to move a single increment, representing that minute. Aft
er sixty minutes, the upper wheel will move a single increment to show the passing of an hour.”

  Ivy pulled an hourglass from beside the timekeeper and held it up for all to see.

  “Behold. This glass measures a single minute. When I say the word, Donnell will start the timekeeper and Ivy will flip the hourglass.”

  Everson’s heart fluttered, and his stomach twisted in a moment of doubt. They had only been able to test it a few times, a result of the final assembly taking longer than expected.

  “Go.”

  Donnell stopped winding the coil and flipped the lever as Ivy flipped the hourglass. Loud ticking filled the silence of the room as the crowd watched on. When the wheel reached half a rotation, Everson stared at the hourglass and tried to determine how much sand remained. The moment seemed to linger – time seemingly teasing him, toying with him. Suddenly, ten seconds remained. Then five. Then one.

  “Stop.” Everson shouted.

  A moment later, the last bit of sand fell into the bottom chamber. He frowned when he realized that the timekeeper had finished first. Only by a second, but still off.

  “Very good, Mister Gulagas,” Nindlerod crooned with a nod. “Please do it again, but without winding the timekeeper.”

  Everson looked at Ivy and Donnell. She shrugged. He nodded. “Go!”

  Donnell flipped the lever, and Ivy flipped the hourglass. Again, the crowd watched in silence and the tension wrapped itself about Everson, squeezing sweat from his armpits, his hands, his temple. With ten clicks left on the timekeeper, Everson grew even more nervous. At five, his heart cried out. At three, the hourglass had already stopped. When a full revolution completed, Donnell flipped the lever, and Everson turned toward the masters.

  “One more time, please,” Nindlerod requested.

  The third time was even worse. The hourglass ran out a full eleven seconds before the timekeeper. Everson stared at it as he attempted to divine the cause of the discrepancy.

  “The coil must have stretched,” he muttered.

  Master Hedgewick stood and approached Everson with a sad smile. “While the idea is unique and the intended application commendable, the execution is lacking. The only way such an invention can hold value is for it to be accurate and reliable.” Hedgewick looked Everson in the eye and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you have failed on both accounts.”

  26

  Change the World

  The novice lounge in the Boy’s Wing Tower was quiet but for the tapping of Everson’s fingers on the table. He flipped the page and continued to pour over his notes. His hand strayed to the side and gripped the handle of his mug, raising it to his lips. A noisy sip later, he grimaced. The caffe had gone cold. It had taken him a few months to become used to the bitter drink, but he liked it far better when it was hot.

  Motion in the periphery drew his attention, and he looked up to find Jonah approaching.

  “I was wondering where you were hiding.”

  “I needed a quiet place to think.”

  When Jonah saw Everson’s notes on the table, he shook his head. “You won’t let it go, will you?”

  Everson leaned back with a sigh. “It should work. I just need a reliable power source. The coil worked fine when we tested it, but it began to break down from the tension and became too weak to keep time.”

  “What other options do you have?” Jonah sat at the end of the table.

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking on.” Everson pulled out a list. “Manual methods such as pedals or cranks are out because that defeats the purpose. Steam is a possibility, but it also requires someone to feed the furnace so the water boils. Plus, the smoke from the fire is less than desirable.”

  Jonah nodded. “I’m with you so far.”

  “Then I began thinking about Chaos. It’s a form of energy itself. When you gather it and charge a rune, the energy becomes defined into a specific physical effect.”

  “Yeah,” Jonah shrugged. “But is doesn’t last long before the effect dissipates.”

  “Exactly.” He leaned forward. “If I can figure out a way to somehow capture it so it lasts forever, I’ll have my answer.”

  “Enchantment?”

  Everson gave his friend a big smile.

  “But we don’t know how to make that work. The only evidence that it’s even possible are the ovens.”

  Another sigh slipped from Everson. “I know. We tried an augmentation using the exact same rune, but got different results.”

  “I don’t get it either.”

  “I want to try again.” Everson’s eyes met Jonah’s. “Tomorrow is seventh day, so we don’t have class in the afternoon. I was hoping you would join me in the quarry again for another experiment.”

  Jonah smiled. “I feared you might never ask.”

  Snow crunched beneath Everson’s boots. As always when snow was present, he moved slowly, carefully placing his canes with each stride. Even so, winter had caused many falls over the years. He hated the snow…and especially the ice.

  Jonah stopped at the edge of the quarry and waited as Everson eased his way forward.

  Concern was apparent on Jonah’s face as he watched Everson struggle through drifts that came past his knees. “You can wait up here while I go trace the rune on the rock.”

  Everson drew even with his friend, breathing hard from the exertion. “That’s fine by me. You remember the rune, right?”

  “Chaos runes are the key to arcanist magic.” He grinned. “I’ll never forget one of them.”

  Spinning about, Jonah climbed down into the quarry, slipping once and almost tumbling before he caught himself. When he reached the blackened rock – its surface so dull and flat that it appeared to absorb all neighboring light – he dusted the cap of snow from the top. Kneeling before the rock, Jonah reached into his pocket and withdrew a chunk of glowstone.

  As Everson watched, pale blue markings on the ebony surface began to take shape, ending in the form of the Heat rune – for that is what Everson named it after discovering it in the ovens and subsequently setting the boulder ablaze. Once finished, Jonah pocketed the glowstone and retraced his steps to the quarry’s edge.

  “How’s it look?” he asked as he approached Everson.

  With a nod, Everson said, “It appears correct to me.”

  Jonah turned toward the stone and closed his eyes. A thin layer of gray clouds passed before the sun, darkening the day and stealing away the warm touch that had been keeping Everson from growing cold. A chill shook his body and he grimaced. I despise winter. Why couldn’t the academy be somewhere beyond winter’s grasp?

  Jonah’s eyes flashed open, glowing an angry red. Everson turned toward the blackened rock as the rune upon it flared, pulsed, and faded. Anticipating the rock to burst into flames, Everson frowned at the result…or lack of it.

  Crimson energy sizzled where snow contacted the rock, hissing and steaming until only bare earth remained within two feet of the stone.

  “Why didn’t it burn like before?” Jonah muttered.

  Everson shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s get closer and see if we can figure it out.”

  Moving carefully, Everson eased down the steps that led to the quarry floor. When he settled beside the rock, he glanced back and found Jonah following the path made by his dragging feet and the tracks left by his canes.

  Everson looked down at the rock, appearing merely as plain black stone. He shifted his canes to one hand and leaned forward. Moving tentatively, he extended his hand toward the rock, holding his palm a foot away as he tried to determine if it were hot. When he sensed no heat, he drew closer and a red spark of energy arced from the rock, crackling as it singed his fingers. Vibrating pain, hot and angry, stung his entire hand.

  “Ouch!” he squealed as he yanked his hand back and stuck his fingers in his mouth, trying to suck away the pain.

  “What was that?” Jonah stared at the rock in surprise.

  Everson pulled his fingers from his mouth a
nd stared at them, finding no visible damage although a strange discomfort lingered in his throbbing fingertips…like a painful memory too fresh to move beyond. His gaze shifted toward the rock, his brow furrowing in thought.

  “I don’t know what it is exactly, but I have some ideas.” He gave his friend a sidelong glance. “Can you try the augmentation again?”

  Jonah shook his head. “No, not for a while at least. Each time I use Chaos, it leaves me feeling as if I just ran up a mountain. I need time to recover.”

  Everson gave the rock a final glance while thoughts spun in the back of his head. “Let’s head back to the school for now. I need to think on this. We’ll come back later today and try again.”

  “What’s the saucer for?”

  Everson grinned at Jonah. “You’ll see.”

  Jonah rolled his eyes as Everson slipped the towel-wrapped ceramic plate into his pack, nestled beside the small hand pick. He tied the pack closed and slipped it over his shoulder before giving a nod.

  “Let’s go.”

  The two boys passed through the Foundry and stepped out into the wintery weather.

  Snow falling at an angle caused both boys to pause and raise the hood on their grey wool cloaks. Jonah then set off across the Foundry Yard, leading Everson toward the rock quarry. They moved slowly, paced by Everson’s limited ability to move through the snow. As they neared the quarry, Everson looked back and found the Academy difficult to see through the falling flakes. He turned forward again and watched the ground closely to prevent from falling. Jonah stopped and Everson stopped beside him, realizing that they had reached the lip of the quarry.

  “That’s strange,” Jonah’s brow furrowed.

  Everson followed Jonah’s gaze to the black rock, its dull surface a harsh contrast to the white snow surrounding it – except for a ring of bare earth that encircled the rock.