“Consisting of giant monsters whose horrible wails strike mind-numbing fear into the hearts of mere mortals, The Horde crushed every city in their path. The Kalimar province fell to them in a handful of days, Vinacci in a matter of weeks. They then turned their might upon Hurnsdom, taking Port Hurns before a winter storm struck the coast. The snow slowed The Horde, the cold killing a fair number of the monsters in the process. This enabled the Holy Army to catch them from behind as they attacked Cinti Mor. Taking the evil army by surprise, the paladins caused The Horde great damage and offered the city hope – hope that lasted only minutes. When the wails began, the Holy Army began to crumble. Worse, horde arcanists used fireballs and other magic to blast away sections of the city walls so the monsters could invade. Only a smattering of lucky citizens escaped before the city was lost.”
Everson glanced at Quinn, who watched Master Lomisse in rapt attention. Her parents…his adopted parents were among those who had fled the city.
“With the Holy Army crushed, a handful of surviving paladins fled Hurnsdom with The Horde in pursuit. They headed southwest, toward the Tantarri Plains to join the armies of man, who had gathered to stop The Horde, or die trying.
“With fewer than a hundred inexperienced Paladin trainees, two hundred Tantarri warriors, and a handful of Holy Army survivors, this force was to face two thousand blood-thirsty giants in a struggle to save humanity. However, they had a secret weapon – an ancient magic that they were still learning to wield.
“In a contest of mind and magic versus raw might and sheer numbers, the human army faced The Horde on the Tantarri plains in a desperate gambit to save humanity from certain annihilation.
“With powerful magic on display, wielded by both sides, death and destruction dominated the battlefield throughout the night, leaving the plains scorched and blood-soaked. When all appeared hopeless for the human army, a flying machine appeared and rained fire upon The Horde, shifting the tide. This final onslaught broke the enemy, and the humans were able to rally and overwhelm the evil army.
“When dawn broke, thousands of dead monsters littered the plains. Some of these giants roam the countryside still, their corrupted hearts stalking the night in search of prey. So, if you venture beyond the walls of the city, beware the darkness, for that is when they feast upon the bodies of men, women, and children. For they care not who they kill…or who they eat.”
An oppressive silence fell over the room, its weight palpable. Master Lomisse closed her eyes for a long moment, speaking again as she opened them.
“With the armies of man victorious, the Tantarri returned to their home while Empire forces marched west to Fallbrandt with the hope of a new beginning.
“The Empire was disbanded, and the kingdoms of old were reformed anew, each with its own government and own army to protect them. Under the Pretencia Accord, these kingdoms signed a treaty to act as an alliance, agreeing to honor political borders and free trade for the benefit of all.
“The Tantarri nation is now an ally of the other kingdoms, with free trade between them and us after years of enmity during the existence of the Empire.
“In addition, the Ministry is no longer. The church of Issal is once again what it was founded to be – the human conduit of Issal’s teachings and mankind’s guide to higher knowledge. This is why you children attend school. Armed with knowledge, your generation will be the catalysts for a better tomorrow. In addition, a select few of you will head to Fallbrandt during your seventeenth summer, where you will train to become warriors, engineers, healers, and magic users. Testing for those roles will take place during the end of your sixth year. Those who do not pass will be encouraged to apply for the trade apprenticeship of their choice.”
The woman continued speaking for some time, discussing other changes that occurred during the founding of the kingdoms, but Everson stopped listening. He found himself intrigued by the concept of going to Fallbrandt. Of course, he had heard of the Fallbrandt Academy of Magic and Engineering. But, until now, he had never considered it something he could pursue. His dream to change the world with his inventions began to coalesce into something more. He now knew how to make it a reality.
With his mind still filled with thoughts of joining the wondrous academy, Master Lomisse dismissed them for the day.
Everson slid his books into his pack and slipped it over his shoulder. As he gripped his canes and pushed himself into a standing position, Quinn circled the table and approached Torney. A pang twisted Everson’s stomach and he bit his lip in fear of what she might do.
“Hi, Torney,” she said, causing the taller boy to turn toward her.
When Torney saw her, he flinched visibly, his eyes shifting nervously.
“Oh, um…hi, Quinn.”
“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I shouldn’t have done what I did.” She held her hand out. “Let’s be friends…like we used to be.”
He stared at her hand with a furrowed brow, his eyes shifting toward her face with a look filled with trepidation. Finally, he reached out and shook her hand.
“All right.”
Quinn smiled. Everson mirrored her grin, feeling relieved.
Torney’s eyes settled on Everson. “I’m…sorry, Ev.”
Everson shuffled around the table. “Let’s forget the past. I agree with Quinn.” He stopped before the larger kid and held both canes in his left hand as he extended his right. “We should be friends.”
Torney shook his hand and gave a hesitant grin.
Everson found himself hopeful. “Now that we are friends, maybe I can help you.”
“With what?” Torney appeared doubtful.
“It seems that doing numbers and figures isn’t that easy for you.” Everson glanced toward Quinn before looking back at Torney. “It’s nothing personal. We all have things that we do well, while there are other things that don’t come so easy. For me, math is something that I do well. I’d like to share a few tricks that might make it easier for you.”
The doubt melted from Torney’s expression, replaced by a hopeful grin.
“I’d like that.”
“Great. Let’s go sit outside, and I’ll show you the table I made for Quinn to help her memorize multiplication.”
“All right, but only for a bit. If I’m not home before my pa, he’ll get real mad.”
As the last to leave the classroom, the three kids passed through temple, careful to remain quiet and not disturb those who prayed there. They stepped outside to find the afternoon sun behind a puffy white cloud. Everson plopped down on the top step and rested his canes beneath his legs before taking his pack off. Torney sat to one side of him, while Quinn sat to the other side.
Everson pulled his sketchbook from the pack and opened it to the first page, showing a handwritten grid filled with numbers. As he did so, the sun emerged from the cloud and shone brightly on the page.
“See the numbers on the left and across the top?”
Torney nodded.
“They…”
A buzzing sound arose, distracting Everson. He searched the southwest horizon for the source. The noise grew louder and a dark shape glided across the sky, briefly eclipsing the sun as it flew past.
Bleached hides stretched tautly across wings that must have been ten strides from tip to tip. A wooden frame held the wings together and secured them to the body of the flying machine. Everson spied a person in the cockpit, peddling wildly as ropes drove pulleys and gears in tight rotations, forcing the two propellers on the rear of the machine to spin furiously. In moments, the flying machine crossed the exposed sky and disappeared beyond the rooftops across the square.
Everson stared in the direction of the flyer, transfixed. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The buzzing sound faded in the distance as it headed toward the Citadel. “What was that?” Quinn asked.
“That was a Hedgewick Flyer,” a woman said from behind them. “I’m afraid of what this means. The machines are used for only the most urge
nt of issues.”
Everson turned to find Master Lomisse staring at the sky as he had. He squinted at her and found his curiosity unsatisfied.
“How does it work? How can they make it fly?”
After a quiet moment, the woman shrugged. “Those flyers come from Fallbrandt, but they didn’t exist during my time there.” She stared in the direction the flyer had gone. “I suspect that magic is somehow used to make them fly, but I don’t know how it works. The magic I speak of…was unknown when I attended the school.”
Everson turned back toward the Citadel, speechless in the firm grip of his wild imagination. Inventions powered by magic offered entirely new possibilities. He would surely meet his destiny in Fallbrandt.
6
Unrelenting Determination
Quinn counted three shadows beyond the bright light in her cell. Her ears told her that three others stood behind her, one likely a girl based on the light tap of her footsteps. The room could not hold much more than that, regardless. Judging by their words, Everson was nearby. She hoped that they were treating him well. The thought of these people hurting him caused anger to flare within her, anger that she immediately stifled.
Rather than show the emotion, her face remained placid while she spoke. Dressed in only her shift, she ignored the cold and relayed her tale, hoping they wouldn’t notice her fingers working the knots binding her wrists.
“It turned out that the flying machine was on its way to Fallbrandt with an urgent message that King Talvin of Vinacci was dead.” Quinn recalled the moment she had heard the news…and the stories that followed. “There were numerous rumors in the streets regarding how the king had died – it was an assassin; he fell from a horse; he acquired an incurable disease; he had a bad heart; and a few others that were even more outlandish. I have always wondered what really happened to him.”
As she finished her answer, the room fell still for a long moment, until the voice beyond the light broke the tension.
“That answers some of our questions.” The man’s voice sounded young, no more than thirty summers. “Tell us what brought you to Fallbrandt and of your interactions at the academy.”
A frown passed her face as she considered the request. Inside, frustration seethed. She hated the situation in which they had placed her – ceding control in this manner. Thoughts of Everson returned. They were holding him captive and demanded her compliance. While she was uncertain if they would actually kill him, she had little choice…until she could free herself.
She sighed audibly, hopeful that they would read into it.
“By the end of our first year of school at the Cinti Mor temple, it had become obvious to others what I already knew. Ev has a unique mind…a mind that would be wasted anywhere but Fallbrandt. I am not as brilliant. School was not overly difficult for me, and I was an above-average student. However, to compare us is like comparing an ocean to a pond. Both are wet, but the latter is not nearly as impressive. Ponds are plentiful, while oceans are few.
“Knowing that my brother was destined to train as an engineer, I needed to find another means to be there with him…in case he needed me. As we neared the end of our last year at the temple, my anxiety increased.
“I felt hopeful when I was tested for my potential to wield magic, but sadly, hope was not enough. I was denied entrance to the academy where Everson was headed, and I feared I would be stuck in Cinti Mor, apprenticing with my father or some other craftsman in the city. That is, until I heard about the new school.”
Quinn stared at the altar as her mind drifted, void of coherent thought. She felt calm in her resolve.
“Are you sure about this, Quinn?”
Everson’s voice echoed in the temple, the building empty other than the two of them. She turned toward him with her lips pressed together.
“Okay. I know that look,” he sighed. “I just hope you don’t get hurt.”
“Getting hurt happens when you fight.” Quinn shrugged. “Avoiding pain isn’t my goal. Winning is.”
“You do know that this man is trained, right? He’s been dueling for years, against opponents far more experienced than you.”
“I know, but he wouldn’t be here if untrained opponents didn’t have a chance. Besides, I have something they don’t have.”
“What’s that?”
“Unrelenting determination.”
Everson chuckled. “Hard to disagree on that one.”
Quinn stared into her brother’s dark eyes and noticed a red-tinted ray of light shining on his disheveled dark hair, giving it an auburn hue. The classroom door opened and Master Lomisse patted Dillon on the shoulder as he exited. The boy stared at the floor, his eyes reflecting dejection. Things had gone poorly for him. Without a word, he headed toward the temple exit, his feet dragging as if heavy weights trailed behind them.
“Jacquinn.” Master Lomisse announced. “You’re next.”
Quinn stood and her gaze shifted to Everson, his eyes showing concern. She patted him on the shoulder and walked toward the open door, past Lomisse, and into the room.
With the tables pushed to the walls and the chairs stacked atop them, the heart of the room stood open and empty – save for the man standing there.
Perhaps ten years her senior, the man had dark hair and a thin mustache to match it. With tawny skin and dark eyes, he had the swarthy look of a southerner, perhaps Kalimarian or Kantarian. He wore a sparring vest, leaving his muscular arms bare to the shoulders. Those arms were crossed against his chest as he watched Quinn cross the room to stand before him. She looked up at him, finding him a half-head taller. Of average height for a woman, Quinn had reached her full height during her thirteenth summer. Since then, her body had filled out a bit, yet remained lean and strong. Time spent in the smithy saw to that.
She heard the door close behind her, and the man gave her a shallow bow, which she returned.
“My name is Severs. I am here to test students who believe they have a future in the physical arts.” His glare was intense, leaving Quinn feeling as if he were staring into her soul. “I understand that you wish to be tested.”
Quinn nodded firmly. “Yes, Sir.”
“Why do you pursue this path?”
“Truthfully, I wish to go to Fallbrandt because my brother is bound for the academy of magic and engineering. I do not possess his mind for inventions, so I must take my own path. I belong with him.”
“Very well.” The man gestured toward the wall to his left. Quinn’s gaze followed and she found wooden staves, swords, and shields lying on a table. “You may choose any weapon.”
The options offered spun in her head, but considering each, she knew she lacked training in any of them.
“May I duel without a weapon?”
“Yes. It is an unusual request, but it is allowed.”
She flexed her fingers, loosening them as she turned toward Severs. “That is my choice.”
“Very well. Prepare yourself.”
Quinn pushed the sleeves of her tunic to her elbows and took a ready stance as her father had taught her.
“Let’s begin.”
He held his hands before him, left fist in front of the right. She adjusted herself to mirror his stance and met his eyes.
Severs jabbed at her face, and she dodged. He swung toward her midriff, and she swatted his hand aside. Suddenly, he attacked with a flurry of punches as Quinn blocked and dodged. One hit her stomach, and she bent with it. The next struck her forehead, and the world jolted as pain shot through her skull. She found herself on her hands and knees, blinking at the pain in her head.
“You do not have to continue if you are hurt.”
Rising to her feet, she smiled at Severs. “You can quit if you’re scared.”
He frowned and lifted his fists into a ready position. Quinn edged closer to him and waited until he lunged forward. She ducked beneath the blow and punched hard. When her fist struck his groin, he grunted and doubled over. Quinn grabbed his shirt and pulled herself up
as fast as possible, slamming the top of her head into his face.
She stumbled backward, wincing at the pain as the world tilted and stars invaded the edges of her vision. Blinking, her focus returned to find blood oozing from Severs’ nose. He wiped his face with the back of his arm and stared at the bloody streak in surprise.
Quinn raised her fists again and smiled, “You do not have to continue if you are hurt.”
The man grimaced and raised his fists, edging toward her more carefully this time. He jabbed. She dodged. He jabbed again, but she knocked it away and threw a punch of her own. Lightning quick, Severs grabbed her wrist, twisted, and threw her over his shoulder. Quinn landed hard on her back and quickly rolled over twice to create space. Despite the pain, she stood and he attacked. His foot struck her stomach and she clutched it. A fist to her cheek followed, and she spun a full circle before landing on her rear. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she spit crimson liquid onto the floor. She worked her jaw. It clicked each time she moved it and sent spikes of pain into her throbbing head.
“We can stop if you are hurt,” the man panted.
Stumbling, she rose to her feet although the room wobbled and spun this way and that. She spit blood again and grinned.
“You can quit if you’re scared.”
He frowned, his face blood-streaked from the nose to his chin. Blood splatter dotted his sparring vest, now in serious need of a wash.
With a shake of his head, Severs raised both fists and eased toward her. The left side of Quinn’s face had gone numb, and her vision blurred on that side. She realized that her left eye was swelling shut and tilted her head to the left so her right eye could focus on her target as she edged toward him.
Quinn faked a high strike and the man reacted to block it. Ducking, she lunged toward his legs and grabbed them, lifting as she continued to drive forward. Despite his heavier frame, she lifted him off his feet and drove him to the floor. He hit the stone tiles with a grunt, but reacted by wrapping his legs about her neck. Pressure built in her throbbing head as he squeezed tightly. She tried to push his legs apart, but found them immovable. The edges of her vision began to blacken, forming a tunnel as she struggled for air. With a narrow view, she saw only the man’s thigh directly in front of her face, so she bit him. Hard. Severs cried out in pain, and his grip eased enough for Quinn to slide her head free. As she gasped for air, she hit him in the kidney three times before he rolled away.
A Warden's Purpose (Wardens of Issalia Book 1) Page 5
