The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) Page 20

  “Don’t forget that the winning team gets twenty-five gold imperials!” He smiled. “Form groups of five students and get to work. The challenge is four weeks from today.”

  The man pushed his round spectacles into place, nodded to the class, and disappeared into the dark building. Brock heard his cackling laughter fading into the distance.

  Students began to mill about, forming into teams. Brock was already standing next to Benny. Cameron made his way over to join them.

  Brock noticed Corbin grab Karl Jarlish, pulling him into his little clique. However, that meant they now had six. Someone was going to be excluded. Corbin spoke with Parker, who stepped away from the group.

  Benny waved Parker over. When he approached, Benny greeted him.

  “You can be on our team, Parker. We could use the help and would be happy to have you.”

  Parker nodded. “Um…Thanks,” he said, not sounding thrilled.

  That left them with four, but they needed five. Brock went in search of a student who still needed a team. That’s when he spotted Lars standing by himself. Weaving his way through clusters of students, Brock walked toward the huge kid with black curly hair. As he approached, Lars glared at him.

  “Hi, Lars.” Brock flashed a smile. “If you aren’t on a team yet, we’d be happy to have you join us.”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Lars replied, crossing his arms on his massive chest.

  Brock was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Nobody wants me on their team. I’ve no idea what’s going on in this class. Clearly, I’m too dumb.” His eyes looked down, and his voice quieted. “You don’t want a big dummy messing things up.”

  Brock realized that Lars was feeling insecure. “We all have talents and weaknesses, Lars. I think that’s why teams work. If we get a bunch of different talents together, we each contribute in some way. It makes a team more effective than someone working alone. If we all brought the same talents and weaknesses, the team might excel in the some areas but would fail in others.”

  The large boy’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that we already have one person who’s amazing at this Engineering stuff. You don’t have to be good at it and neither do I. We just need to band together and contribute with our own skills, the best we can,” Brock replied. “I’m saying that we do want you on our team. Please join us, Lars.”

  Lars squinted at Brock, studying him for a bit before giving a nod. Brock smiled and waved for him to follow.

  Brock crossed the yard to rejoin the group. “Lars is joining us to make five,” he said, pointing his thumb back at the big kid grinning over his shoulder.

  Brock addressed them. “In this effort, I think we can agree that Benny is the lead.”

  Everyone nodded as a grin spread across Benny’s face.

  Brock pointed at Benny. “Now you know what we have to work with and what we need to achieve. How long will it take to draw up plans for our catapult?”

  A look of concentration clouded Benny’s face. His head bobbed and lips moved, but no sound came out. After a moment, he broke into a grin.

  “Give me five days and I’ll have it figured out.”

  Brock nodded. “Okay. Let’s meet in the novice lounge after dinner five days from now. After that, things will get busy for a while.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement. Their team was set. Step one of their plan was in place. In four weeks, they had a contest to win.

  Brock’s eyes drifted across the crowded yard, locking onto eyes that burned with cold hatred. Corbin’s clenched jaw loosened, and a smile spread across his face. Brock remained stoic, not responding to Corbin’s smug grin.

  CHAPTER 57

  Brock remained stoic, not responding to Corbin’s smug grin.

  Now fifteen minutes into the mock trial, Brock had meticulously stated his case. Master Pretencia, acting as the magistrate, nodded and took notes the entire time.

  Representing the plaintiff, Brock had one chance to state his case before relinquishing the floor to the state defense. Unfortunately, that person was Corbin Ringholdt. Brock regained focus and made his closing statement.

  “As you can see, my client is innocent. The state, as I have proven without a doubt, has violated this man’s rights,” Brock stated confidentially. “I move for him to be cleared of all charges and to be issued the sum of eight gold imperials to replace his destroyed property.”

  Brock bowed to Pretencia and retreated to his seat after building a strong case for his mythical client. He imagined how the man would thank him profusely for reclaiming his property and for convincing the magistrate to award the gold needed to replace the building. Brock smiled, appreciating the reward of helping a person in need.

  Corbin’s voice disturbed him from his reverie.

  “I must commend my opponent for his comprehensive and compelling argument,” Corbin said as he took the floor. “If circumstances were different, I’ve no doubt that his case would be sufficient to sway the magistrate in his client’s favor.”

  Corbin paused, looking back with a smirk.

  “However, in this case, my opponent’s argument is irrelevant.” Corbin paused, allowing the words to sink in. “You see, when the plaintiff was described to us prior to these proceedings, there was one glaring omission.”

  Corbin pointed at his own forehead. “The man was never described to have a rune. That would make the defendant an Unchosen, which leaves him with no official rights and unprotected by Empire law.” Corbin slammed his hand down on the table as he ended the statement, the sound echoing in the room.

  “I move for the state to retain this man’s property. In addition, I move for the plaintiff to be jailed for thirty days, working slave labor to repay the state for the cost of these proceedings.”

  Corbin bowed to the magistrate and spun to face the audience. He flashed one last smile as he retreated to his seat. Brock hated the pompous jerk.

  Pretencia stood to address the courtroom. “I have come to my decision.” His voice boomed with authority. “In the case of Dane Baskins versus the state, I find the state innocent in all regards. As the state defender noted, Dane Baskins is indeed Unchosen. Per Empire law, he’s not a protected citizen and has no official rights to property.” Pretencia paused, changing his tone to one less official. “Very good, Mister Ringholdt. You’ve won again.” He shifted his gaze to Brock. “You, Mister Talenz, have improved. However, you once again find yourself on the wrong side of the decision. Keep trying. Perhaps you will win a proceeding one day.”

  Brock had lost again. Three times, he had been matched against Corbin in a mock trial. Three times, he had lost.

  “Better luck next time, Peon,” Corbin muttered as he passed Brock.

  Brock’s eyes narrowed as Corbin took a seat in the audience. Yes, he hated Corbin Ringholdt quite strongly right now. He still believed that Corbin was the cause of Amber’s death. It further fueled his hatred.

  As Brock stepped into the audience, Pretencia announced the next case. Brock plopped down on a chair to wait for class to end. Frustrated, he ignored the remaining trials. He needed to focus on something else, anything else. His mind drifted to his plan to visit the library archives.

  CHAPTER 58

  Lying still, Brock attempted to relax on the hard surface. He tried to ignore that his cloak was now filthy. He should have anticipated that nobody bothered to dust the tops of the bookshelves. It appeared to have been years, maybe decades, since they had been cleaned.

  In the distance, he heard Benny’s voice.

  “We’ll take these.”

  “You’re just in time. We’re about to close.” It was the girl working the checkout desk. “Name please.”

  “Benny Hedgewick.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember. Like the guy that the library was named after.”

  “Yep. He’s my ancestor,” Benny replied.

  After a minute, she spoke again. “Okay. Take care of the
se and return them in three weeks.” She paused. “Weren’t there three of you? I’m pretty sure your cute friend came in with you.”

  “What? Oh…Um...” He heard Benny stammer.

  Come on, Benny. Don’t mess this up, Brock thought.

  “Yeah. That’s Brock. He left about a half-hour ago.” Cam’s low voice rumbled. “He left to meet a girl to practice his meditation. You know, for Ecclesiastics?”

  “Oh. Okay then,” the girl replied.

  “Good night,” Benny said.

  Moments later, the door opened and click closed.

  He now had to wait for the workers to close the library and leave.

  Minutes ticked by slowly. The hard surface of the shelf became quite uncomfortable, making it difficult for him to lie still.

  He heard footsteps ascending the stairs. The steps became louder as they approached his location on the second floor. The blue light of a glowlamp passed by, accompanying the sound of footsteps that soon faded.

  Moments later, the footsteps ascended to the third level. After a minute, they again descended, returning to the main floor.

  “Okay, Master Tennison. I updated the ledgers and cleared the library. It’s empty except for us. I’m leaving,” the girl said.

  An old man’s voice responded, “Thank you, Sandra. Have a good day off.”

  “Thank you. Good night.”

  A door opened and clicked closed.

  It was quiet again for a few minutes. Then he heard distant footsteps followed by the thump of a deadbolt slamming closed. Three more deadbolts slammed closed. Another door opened, this one squeaking on its hinge. The squeak repeated as the door clicked closed. The click of a lock sounded, followed by silence.

  Patience. Brock knew a thief’s greatest ally was patience. A full quarter-hour of silence passed before he rolled off the shelf. He lowered himself until he was hanging by his hands, arms outstretched. Letting go, he lightly dropped to the floor. Even the small sound from his soft landing caused Brock to cringe. He hoped he was alone.

  Creeping to the edge of the terrace, he scanned the floor below. A dozen glowlamps rested on the desks, casting long shadows in every direction. Nobody was in sight.

  He crept across the floor and down the stairs. Grabbing a glowlamp as he passed the desks, he set the lamp on the floor near the trap door. He reached behind his back to remove his sheath. Withdrawing the knife and three bent needles from the sheath, he set to work on the first lock.

  Again, patience was required. He had gotten a good look at the keys used for the locks. They were more complex than most, each lock containing three tumblers. After a few minutes of intense concentration, he was able to get it to turn. His relief was short lived with two locks remaining.

  By the time all three locks were released, his brow was covered in sweat, and he felt the sting of thirst. He should have brought water, but there was no help for it now. Sliding his knife and picks back into the sheath, he replaced it in his waistband at the small of his back.

  Crouching low, he pulled the trapdoor open. He scooped up the lamp and began his descent, lowering the door behind him.

  Like the stairwell above, this one was curved. As he rounded the bend, the stairs ended to reveal a large room. Shockingly, it seemed just as expansive as the floor above. It was another whole level, filled with shelves of books. Where would he begin to search?

  He walked down the first row of books, scanning titles as to discern their subjects. He stopped when he heard a noise from above. The moment stretched, completely silent until he heard a key sliding into a trap door lock. Panic struck.

  Brock scrambled out the other end of the aisle, looking for a place to hide. He noticed another stairwell under the one he had just descended. In a snap decision, he darted down those stairs. Arriving at the next level, he ran down the main aisle, putting distance between himself and whoever was entering the archives.

  Reaching the far wall, he turned down a side aisle and spotted a table in the corner. He ducked under the table, pulling the chairs in tight around him. Using his cloak, he covered the glowlamp and the room plunged into darkness.

  Brock could now hear voices in the distance, growing louder as they descended the stairs. The words became legible as they reached the level where he was hiding.

  “…telling you that the way those students keep digging for information about the Horde is going to cause trouble. They must have gone through every book in that section of the library by now. The lack of detail is bound to increase their curiosity.” It was the voice of Master Tennison, the librarian.

  “What would you have me do, Frederick?” It was a female’s voice. “We teach Lore for a reason. Curiosity is a positive trait for a student of Lore. Besides, the answers they seek are down here, safe and secure. They will eventually tire of their search and will move on.”

  They stopped one aisle from where Brock was hiding.

  “Just make sure that Mae keeps them in line when they come asking the tough questions,” he replied. “I’ll handle it if they decide to pursue the issue here at the library.”

  Another voice broke in. “I’m sure it will be fine, Fred.” It was Vandermark. “It’s not the first time we’ve had curious students asking questions we choose to not answer. It’s the way of the world. People feel they need to seek truth. It’s our job to ensure they find the truth we have defined and nothing more. That’s the only truth they need.”

  Brock heard shuffling as books were pulled from shelves. Tennison’s voice followed.

  “Here’s what I have on the Tantarri. Let’s go.”

  Feet shuffled, followed by footsteps retreating toward the stairwell.

  “Good. Perhaps we can find something that will give us an edge,” Vandermark responded as the footsteps and voices began to fade. “They’ve been a thorn in our side for far too long. If we can find a means to destroy them, Archon Ringholdt would be in our debt. I might even…” His words faded.

  Brock remained still for a few minutes. When his senses began to numb to the black silence surrounding him, he opened his cloak and blue light streamed out. He pushed a chair aside and crawled from under the table.

  After creeping to the aisle where the masters had been standing, he began scanning the shelves. Gaping openings where books had been removed were indicators of where they had been searching. He continued scanning when a thick book caught his attention. The binding read The Wailing War.

  He lifted the heavy tome and began paging through it, immediately finding references to the Horde. Lowering his pack, he slid the book inside. A dusty volume on the bottom row caught his eye. The cover had an odd rune, one he didn’t recognize. He grabbed that book as well, stuffing it into his pack.

  Moments later, he was at the top of the stairwell. Not hearing anyone above, he twisted each of the internal locks and pushed the door open.

  He lowered the trap door and made for the exit. Sliding the bolt to unlock it, he peeked out the door to find the hallway empty. He slipped out and headed back to his room.

  PART V: DISCOVERIES

  CHAPTER 59

  With Benny off finalizing the design for their catapult, Brock began reading the book he had taken from the library archives. It was interesting and included far more detail than expected but had so many pages. It was going to take a while to get through the whole thing.

  After five hours of reading, Brock closed the thick book and rubbed his tired eyes. He stored it safely in a desk drawer before stepping out into the hall and locking the door behind him. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  As he headed toward the dining hall, he reflected on something he had read in the early pages of the book. The volume’s timeline began by noting something that had appeared in the sky a few months prior to the invasion. What it was hadn’t been determined. The book also included information on the seven kingdoms that occupied the continent at the time, providing background on the structure and agenda of
each kingdom.

  Passing through the empty dining hall, he headed for the kitchen. Shirley was instructing her assistants on the dinner they were to prepare. Spotting Brock, she told the workers to begin before she rushed over to greet him.

  “Hello, Brock. It’s nice to see you. Did you need something?”

  “Hello, Shirley. Do you have something I can eat? I never made it in for lunch.”

  “I have just the thing.”

  She headed to the back of the kitchen, returning moments later with a bowl in hand. Brock eagerly accepted the bowl, which was steaming with the aroma of cooked beef.

  “I kept the left-over stew from lunch simmering in case anyone came in late.” She handed a spoon to him. “Would you like a hard roll to go with it?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Brock replied.

  She sped off again, returning with a small towel wrapped into a ball. It felt warm in his hand.

  “There are two rolls in there, dearie.” She winked at him. “I was keeping a few warm in case someone special showed up. Good thing, too.”

  “Thanks again, Shirley,” he said. “You’re the best.”

  “Why thank you, Brock.” She flashed a smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to work in the kitchens again?”

  He smiled. “Sorry, but my path leads elsewhere, Shirley. I’ll be sure to stop by often, though.”

  Rather than sit alone in the dining hall, Brock decided to head outdoors and enjoy the weather. He hadn’t seen much of the sun recently.

  Stepping outside, he was greeted by a distinct coolness in the air. The sun’s rays were enough to make it comfortable, but it would cool significantly after sunset. Cold nights had become a common occurrence recently. The result was an amazing sight he hadn’t experienced before.

  Scanning the valley before him, Brock’s eyes took in a view spiced by a variety of color. While the pines still sported their deep green needles, the leaf trees had transformed. Reds, oranges, and yellows now mixed in with the greens. He was told that those leaves would soon abandon their trees, drifting to the ground to leave the branches bare until spring. For now, the color depth of the valley was gorgeous. A voice interrupted the serenity of the moment.