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

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  Eventually, Everson spotted Jonah approaching with two bowls in hand and two cups held against his torso with his forearms. A wave of relief struck at his roommate’s arrival.

  “Take a bowl.” Jonah nodded toward his left hand. “It’s porridge. My guess is that their dogs rejected it, so we have to eat it.”

  Everson reached for a bowl and a cup, setting them on the table. “Thanks again. I…don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

  Jonah sat on the bench opposite from Everson. “You haven’t tasted the porridge. You might find yourself cursing me instead of thanking me.”

  Everson returned Jonah’s grin. “Fair enough.”

  Steam rose from the bowl as Everson scooped a spoon full, blowing on it before taking a taste. It was hot, but not scalding.

  “Ugh.” Jonah scrunched his nose. “I knew it. Nasty.”

  Everson shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

  Jonah shook his head. “What’s worse than porridge?”

  Everson grinned. “Cake.”

  “What? Cake is delicious.”

  “Not when my sister makes it.”

  “How so?”

  “She messed up the recipe. Rather than using a teaspoon of salt, she used a tablespoon full.”

  Jonah frowned. “That sounds bad.”

  “Oh, it was bad.”

  “Ugh.”

  “That wasn’t even the worst part.”

  With a raised a brow, Jonah asked, “Okay. What else?”

  “She accidentally used salt instead of sugar when mixing the frosting.” Everson shook his head at the memory. “The cake tasted like the salt licks that farmers put out for cattle.”

  Jonah chuckled. “Okay. You win. Your sister’s cake is worse than porridge.”

  Everson took another bite of the porridge and found it cooled enough to eat. Alone at their table, he and Jonah ate in silence. When he finished, Everson looked up to find Jonah’s bowl clean.

  “For hating porridge, you sure ate it well,” he noted.

  Jonah shrugged. “It might be disgusting, but it’s food. I want to make sure I have energy for my first day of class.”

  “I can buy that,” Everson said. “Speaking of class, we have our first class together. Let’s head there now, so we can get decent seats.”

  “Good idea.” Jonah grabbed the bowls and cups as he stood. “Head for the hallway, and I’ll meet you there after I drop these off.”

  With a nod in response, Everson fished his canes from below the table and pushed himself into a standing position. He shuffled down the aisle between tables, toward the door. A glance to the side caught sight of Rena, sitting at a table with Torney and four other students. She looked gorgeous with her auburn curls pouring over the shoulders of her white-trimmed navy blue coat. She laughed at something said, and her green eyes sparkled with mirth. When she turned toward Everson, he realized he had been staring at her.

  Panic struck and he hurried forward. In his haste, he collided with an empty bench and fell over it. He desperately grabbed the table’s edge to stop himself from falling, which caused the far end of the table to flip up, launching the bowl of porridge sitting there.

  Everson landed hard on his hip and released his grip from the table, which fell to the floor with a loud thud. A crash on the tabletop caused Everson to look up as the bowl of porridge bounced, flipped, and dumped its contents onto his head.

  Wiping the hot porridge from his face, Everson looked around in shock. The boy who had been eating alone at the table still held his spoon as he stared at his breakfast all over Everson. In fact, dozens of students stared in his direction, many standing, most with eyes wide. Everson’s gaze shifted toward Rena, and he found her looking at him, her eyes filled with pity.

  Laughter erupted throughout the room. Fingers pointed in his direction. Everson wished he were anywhere else. Anyone else.

  He turned around and found his canes a few paces away, in opposite directions. Clenching his teeth as he struggled to hold his tears back, he pulled himself toward the nearest cane. When he reached it, he found two sets of boots before him. He looked up and found Rena looking down with sadness in her eyes.

  “Oh, Everson.”

  He swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. He turned toward the boy at her side and found Torney smiling down at him.

  “You sure made a fool of yourself, Ev.” Torney shook his head. “Here. Let me help you up.”

  The tall boy bent and put his arm about Everson, lifting him as he got his cane into position.

  “Um…thanks.” Everson mumbled.

  “Are you all right?” Rena asked with a concerned expression.

  “I’ll be fine.” He said, his voice shaky. “Nothing injured…except my pride.”

  “Here’s your other cane.”

  Everson turned to find Jonah holding his cane and sporting a wry grin.

  “I leave you for one minute and look at what happens.” Jonah shook his head. “I’d be hard pressed to invent a better way to get everyone’s attention. Well played.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t shine like a star if nobody ever looks your way.” Jonah patted Everson’s shoulder. “You got their attention. Everyone here will notice you now. All you have to do is show them something.”

  “Um…okay.”

  Jonah turned toward Torney and Rena. “Thanks for helping him. I can take it from here.”

  Everson made his way toward the door as a hurricane of humiliation swirled inside him, buffeted by waves of confusion.

  When they reached the hallway, he turned toward Jonah.

  “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

  Jonah shrugged. “I know that.” He glanced back toward the dining hall. “Hopefully, what I said will give them pause. It might even work out, provided you follow with something more spectacular sometime soon.”

  Everson gave a weak smile. “Thanks. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jonah patted him on the back. “For now, I suggest we head back to the room so you can clean up before class.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “That is, unless you prefer to wear porridge for the day.”

  Everson put on a shaky smile. “No. I think I’ll pass.”

  Dressed in a navy coat that was still damp from rinsing away the porridge, Everson followed Jonah into the classroom. Rows of tables filled the room, split by an aisle down the center. Four chairs sat beside each table, facing the front of the room. Students within were chatting busily until a bell rang in the corridor outside. Everyone turned toward the front of the room as the instructor rose to her feet from her desk.

  The woman’s black wavy hair shone with a luster, complimenting her large brown eyes. She wore a form-fitting purple and black coat, unbuttoned at the neckline. Where exposed, her mocha skin appeared smooth and youthful despite Everson’s suspicion that she was far older than he was. Where covered, her body had curves that men noticed and women envied, regardless of age. The woman sauntered down the aisle in her black breeches and tall black boots as Everson and Jonah stared. She arched a brow in question.

  “Aren’t you two going to sit?”

  Everson blinked and glanced at the tables, finding two open seats –one in the front and the other near the back.

  “Yes. Sorry, Master…”

  The woman smiled. “Alridge. Master Salina Alridge.”

  Jonah turned to Everson. “Why don’t you take the seat at the front?”

  Everson shuffled across the room to the open chair. Only after he and Jonah were seated, did Master Alridge speak.

  “Good morning, Novices. My name is Master Alridge. I will be you instructor in Chaos Theory.”

  She paused, glancing about the room with her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I see confusion and curiosity on your faces. This is good…and expected.

  “Chaos is a relatively secret thing, something you will hear very little about beyond this valley. In part, this is because the discovery, or more accurately, rediscovery of this
magic occurred less than two decades ago. The larger truth is that Chaos is very powerful…and very dangerous. Its misuse can be fatal. When wielded with evil intentions, it can be devastating.”

  She stared at the students with intensity in her eyes.

  “You must never take Chaos lightly. It should be treated with much consideration and handled with delicate care.”

  Again, she paused to allow the students to absorb her message. After a moment, she clasped her hands together and gave a firm nod.

  “Now that you have been warned, I shall begin.”

  She strolled down the aisle as she spoke. “Chaos is a term used to describe the energy that exists all around us. Heat, light, kinetics, gravity…any source of latent energy other than life. Life is different and relates to Order, which in many ways is the opposite of Chaos. However, that is for another lesson in another class.

  “On the most basic level, arcanists are individuals who have a natural ability to gather ambient Chaos, drawing into themselves by force of will. Be aware that an arcanist cannot hold this energy for long, or it will destroy them. Instead, they channel the gathered Chaos into a rune, giving the energy purpose. The runes themselves are the most important aspect of Chaos Theory. Without a properly drawn rune to harness the energy, to give it shape and definition, the Chaos will destroy anything or anyone near the rune. It will fry people’s brains, burn out their eyes, and leave them an empty husk.”

  Everson swallowed hard as he imagined this unknown power lashing out and killing those who stood too close.

  “Many of you have come to this school in hope of learning to wield this magic I speak of. You dream of unimaginable power and supernatural abilities. Others have come to the school with the knowledge that they cannot wield Chaos, but either have some affinity for wielding Order or have the imagination and intelligence required to excel at Engineering. Those who can never tap into Chaos themselves may wonder why they attend this class.”

  Everson found himself nodding, and he noticed others doing the same.

  “We teach everyone the theory because understanding is required in order to respect the power. In addition, Engineering students may discover new means of combining Chaos augmentations with inventions, tools, and weapons in some way that others have yet to conceive.”

  Enchanting, Everson thought.

  Master Alridge stopped at the front of the room and picked up a small chunk of glowstone. Using it, she then began tracing a symbol on the black wall at the front of the room. After a minute, she stepped back and nodded in approval.

  Pointing at the symbol, she turned toward the class. “This is the rune for Light, and it is the rune we will focus on for now.”

  She moved to her desk and picked up a stone the size of her fist. When she held the stone up, Everson noticed a rune drawn on it, the same rune as she had drawn on the wall.

  “Watch and learn.” Master Alridge closed her eyes.

  The room fell silent, the very air dripping with anticipation. The woman’s eyes flashed open, and Everson gasped. Red energy crackled in her pupils, glowing brightly. She stared at the rune, which lit up with a red glow, pulsed, and faded. Everson’s attention returned to Master Alridge, and he found her eyes had faded back to brown. The rock in her hand flared into white light, so bright that Everson had to turn away. When the bright rays dimmed, he turned to find Master Alridge covering the light with a black cloth.

  “As you can see, the effect the rune exhibits is very singular in nature. Please note that effect and application are not the same. We will explore various applications over the next two weeks before we move onto the next rune.”

  Bright white light still leaked from beneath the cloak, illuminating the floor below. Everson stared at it as his mind began to race, considering the possibilities of how to put this magic to use.

  15

  Coincidence

  Tall workbenches arranged in columns ran the length of the Engineering classroom, with three stools beside each workbench. Everson chose a stool at a bench in the middle row, beside a girl with rectangular spectacles. Tall and thin, her dark hair fell straight and lifeless over her shoulders. The girl’s furtive gaze flicked in his direction, her amber eyes widening when she noticed him looking at her. She looked away and Everson did the same.

  A pudgy boy with square-cut bangs walked past, as did a girl with a long blond braid and nervous blue eyes. A short boy, barely five feet tall sat across from him, beside a girl of the same height but twice his weight.

  Everson turned toward the door as a tall boy entered and stopped to survey the room. With dark brown hair and eyes to match, the boy had the shoulders of a warrior and carried a calm confidence. His eyes met Everson’s and he smiled, his white teeth a stark contrast to the golden hue of his skin.

  The boy circled a row of benches and approached Everson with an affable grin.

  “You’re the porridge boy, right?”

  Everson frowned, recalling the incident well.

  The boy held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to make fun of you. It’s just that it was my porridge you spilled.” The boy smiled. “I actually want to thank you. I despise the stuff.”

  “Um…you’re welcome?”

  The boy’s grin widened and he extended his hand. “I’m Donnell.”

  Since he was sitting with canes resting below the bench, Everson’s hands were free to shake the other boy’s hand.

  “I’m Everson. It’s good to meet you, Donnell.”

  “Is this seat taken?” Donnell pointed toward the third stool at the workbench.

  Everson shook his head. “No. Please, sit.”

  Donnell slipped past Everson, sat on the stool, and slid his pack onto the bench. The chime of a bell arose and echoed in the corridor beyond the open door. Two male students scurried into the room, one short and portly, the other tall and stick-thin. They scrambled to claim the last two open seats, leaving all eighteen stools occupied. As they settled, the room fell into a state of silent expectation.

  Everson glanced toward the open door, toward the cold and silent hallway beyond. His focus shifted to the desk at the front of the room, which remained unoccupied. A glare in the corner of his eye drew his attention to the window, toward the glinting sunlight reflecting off the glass panels of the domed temple roof. Nearing mid-day, it would be warm outside although it remained cool within the stone block walls of the school.

  An odd series of sounds came from beyond the open door, drawing everyone’s attention. A thud, a footstep, a scuffing – like something being dragged across the floor. The series of sounds repeated, growing louder until a shadow appeared, bent and hunched over.

  Stepping into the room was a wizened old man with thin wisps of white curly hair scattered about his balding head. The man’s eyebrows were so long that they curled around the frame of his thick, rounded spectacles. Even if he stood upright, the man was small by any measure. Bent over as he was, his head barely cleared the top of the workbenches as he shuffled past. Everson’s attention was drawn to the man’s cane, made of metal but for the leather-wrapped handle and the odd foot at the bottom. As the man headed toward the desk at the front of the room, Everson wondered at the weight of a cane made from metal. How can this decrepit little man carry such weight?

  The man reached the front and sat on the low stool that waited beside the desk. A long sigh slipped out as he visibly relaxed with his cane in his lap.

  “And so. It begins,” the man said in wheezing voice.

  Everson glanced about the room and found others appearing as confused as he was.

  “Sixty-two years ago, I began this journey. In that time, I have seen many amazing things come to light – inventions, discoveries, victories, and change. Things always change.

  “I have witnessed the horrors that only an army of monsters can inflict and have basked in the glory of their defeat. I watched an empire crumble, and I helped build a new regime. My name will remain among the histor
ies when I pass – at least until mankind sees fit to erase even that – for such is the way that man treats the past. And then, I will be forever lost and forgotten like so many ghosts before me. For now, it is time for me to sleep…forever.”

  The man fell silent, his eyes drifting closed. Not a word was whispered. Not a person moved. A tension filled the air as the still moment carried on. In subconscious reaction, Everson held his breath, gasping when the man’s eyes flashed open, and he hoisted his cane above him.

  “Got you!” The man’s cackling laughter filled the room.

  Everson found himself grinning, but had no idea why.

  As his laughter died down, the old man rested his cane across his lap and spoke.

  “I am Master Pherran Nindlerod.” He nodded. “Yes…THAT Pherran Nindlerod.”

  He looked about the room, seeking something. He frowned.

  “Doesn’t anybody know my name?”

  Everson raised his hand.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Um…Everson. Everson Gulagas.”

  “Well, Um Everson. What do you know about me?”

  “I…um…you invented the pedal-driven grinding wheel.”

  Master Nindlerod smiled. “Yes. That’s good. Anything else?”

  Everson gave a weak shrug, unsure of what to say.

  Nindlerod sighed. “Well, at least you got one of them.” He shook his head, and then his bushy white brows furrowed. “Does anyone know why we are here?”

  A smattering of hands raised, and Nindlerod pointed toward the girl sitting beside Everson.

  “Yes, miss…”

  “I…,” she mumbled.

  “Could you repeat that? I didn’t quite get your name.”

  She cleared her throat. “Ivy. My name is Ivy, Sir. Ivy Fluerien.”

  “Good. Now, tell me, Miss Fluerien, why you are here?”

  “I’m here to learn. To learn and to invent…things that might make the world a better place.”

  Nindlerod laughed, cackling as his head bobbed eagerly. “Very good. Very good, indeed. If I were a decade younger, I’d dance a jig for such a response.