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

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “Each of you is here because you have demonstrated a high level of intelligence. I suspect that each of you is used to being the smartest person in the room. However, you cannot all be the smartest person here, can you?”

  He paused as the students glanced at each other.

  “In fact, one of you is the dumbest person here!” Nindlerod’s laughter cackled again as he slapped his leg. “The dumbest,” he mumbled, shaking his head with a big grin on his face. When he recovered, he spoke again.

  “Since there is no sure way to quantify who is smartest and who is dumbest, I suggest that you forget your pride and stop worrying about such things. There will always be someone smarter than you. In fact, the truly intelligent person remains cognizant that there is far more to learn than he or she can ever know.

  “Instead, focus on absorbing everything you can from your instructors, from books, and from each other. But remember that being an engineer is not just about learning, it is about creating. It is about dreaming up new ways of accomplishing ordinary tasks and about accomplishing tasks never dreamt of before. So, use your intelligence to feed your imaginations so they might give birth to inventions that will change the world.”

  While Nindlerod continued speaking, going on about the principles of physics that he would teach in class and the fabrication skills that the students would practice in the Foundry, Everson’s mind drifted higher and higher, soaring above the school, the mountains, and even above the clouds. Inspired by Nindlerod’s words, he knew that, for the first time, he had found a place where he could maximize his abilities. Here, he would learn everything he could learn. Here, he would experiment, create, and invent something special. Here, he would show the world that he was capable. Here, he would make a difference.

  Boys emerged from their rooms and fell into the flow of bodies in the narrow hallway as they headed toward the dining hall. Everson did his best to avoid hitting others with his canes as he shuffled along, a half step behind Jonah. As he made the journey, his mind drifted to the afternoon he had spent training, or more specifically, to the wonders of The Foundry.

  He and the other first-year Engineering students had met there after lunch and were introduced to the skill specialists who would be training them. Having grown up with a blacksmith as a father, Everson thought he had a solid grasp of what to expect. He had never been more wrong.

  A twisting maze of pipes ran the length of The Foundry, connected to pumps, lifts, winches, and presses. Everson had heard of steam power, and he had even seen two steam carriages on their journey to Fallbrandt. Yet, when he discovered that these tools would function with a simple pull of a lever or the turn of a valve, he had been quite impressed. This fact did not account for the size of such machines nor for the amount of force they could muster.

  A number of forges, each three times the size of his father’s, were built into one of the long Foundry walls. Scrap metal piles and workbenches filled with hand tools dotted the room. Everywhere Everson looked, students melted steel, bent pipes, blew glass, and assembled their contraptions. The smells of burnt metal and sulfur made some of his fellow students cough, but it didn’t effect Everson. He had grown up with it.

  In his reverie, he recalled the musical notes he heard when first entering the Foundry, the heavy clang of an iron hammer ringing throughout the room with the whistle of released steam filling the gaps between strikes. Everson grinned as the sound replayed in his ears – a sweet melody that only he could hear. He ached to create something in the Foundry.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Jonah’s voice pulled Everson from his musings.

  “What?” Everson turned toward Jonah.

  “I was telling you of the rest of my day.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry…my mind was elsewhere.”

  The crowd slowed as they funneled into the dining hall. As Everson broke away from the cluster, Jonah turned toward him.

  “I’ll go get us some food. You find a table.”

  “Good idea.”

  Everson considered his situation as he watched Jonah head toward the kitchen, deciding that it was a massive stroke of luck to have met him. He genuinely liked Jonah, and his manner put Everson at ease. Even the way Jonah helped him seemed natural – not forced, nor out of pity.

  He shuffled between the rows of tables and noticed Rena sitting with Torney at a table with three other students, each wearing navy coats with white piping on the shoulders. An image of the morning spill flashed in Everson’s head. Wishing to avoid another incident, he looked away from Rena and focused on navigating the tight rows.

  When he broke free of the occupied tables, he found an open table and settled onto the bench. A shadow loomed over him and he glanced up to Donnell holding a plate of food in one hand and a mug in the other.

  “Hello, Everson. Do you mind if I join you?”

  Everson shrugged. “Not at all. Please. Sit.”

  Donnell sat on the empty bench across from Everson. “Where’s your food?”

  Everson turned toward the kitchen. “My roommate is grabbing me a plate.” He turned back to look at Donnell, who appeared worried. “Don’t worry. He’s quite friendly. I’m sure you’ll get along fine.”

  Donnell stared at his fork as he stirred pasta about his plate. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting Everson’s.

  “So, where are you from?”

  “I’m from Cinti Mor,” Everson replied.

  Donnell’s brows rose high. “Cinti Mor?”

  “Yeah. That’s where I grew up. My family moved here just a few days ago.”

  “So they…left the city with you?”

  Everson shrugged. “Yeah. My parents purchased a new house in Fallbrandt, and my father has enough work to keep him busy for some time.”

  Donnell looked side-to-side with nervous eyes. He leaned forward and whispered. “I heard…I heard that Cinti Mor was attacked.”

  “Oh.” Everson brows rose up. “You know about that? Well, I was there and I can tell you that it’s true.”

  “You were there? How…how did you get away, then?”

  “The attack struck as my family was leaving the city. Men came after us, but my sister stopped them.”

  “Your sister?” Donnell appeared doubtful.

  “Yeah. It’s hard to believe. In truth, despite her actions, it required a stroke of luck for us to escape.”

  “What about the city?” Donnell leaned forward, appearing anxious. “Were the Vinacci forces able to take it?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Everson’s voice grew quiet. “They took the gate after an explosion and…their soldiers charged through the gap. I don’t know what happened afterward, but it did not look good.”

  When Donnell looked up, Everson turned to find Jonah approaching with two plates.

  “I grabbed an extra sweet roll for you,” Jonah said with a grin. As he set the plates down, Jonah asked Everson, “Who’s this?”

  “Jonah, this is Donnell. He’s studying to be an Engineer.” Everson turned toward the boy across the table. “Donnell, this is Jonah, my roommate. He’s here to learn magic.”

  “Hello, Donnell.” Jonah extended his hand.

  Donnell appeared to hesitate before extending his hand. They shook, and Jonah turned back to Everson.

  “I need to grab something to drink.” Jonah stepped back from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

  Donnell’s eyes narrowed as he watched Jonah head toward the kitchen.

  “How did you meet Jonah?”

  Everson shrugged. “He showed up at the school right after I did.”

  Donnell turned toward him, looking Everson in the eye. “He walked in right behind you? Was it his idea for you to be roommates? Was it his idea to get your food for you?”

  Everson’s brow furrowed. “Yes. Why?”

  Donnell stared at his plate as he poked at his pasta. “This boy you don’t know appears from nowhere, volunteers to be your roommate, and now helps you get your meals. That seem
s mighty convenient and a bit too coincidental.” Donnell’s eyes met Everson’s. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  16

  Ranger Outing

  “In addition to gaining access to melee weapons, our training expanded in other areas.” Quinn peered past the light to count the shadows again, finding three silhouettes. “Three times a week, we spent our afternoons on the archery range. After testing a longbow, flatbow, and crossbow, I settled on a shortbow. The weapon felt less awkward than the longbow and faster to reload than the crossbow. While my skill with the bow seemed better than most of my fellow cadets, there was one girl whose expertise stood out.

  “I’ll never forget the first time I watched Chuli Ultermane shoot a longbow. Her precision was uncanny. When I watched her grab three arrows at a time, hold them with one hand, and fire them off in rapid succession, I asked Master Hammerton if we would learn the technique. Her response was a frown, and she told me it might take months to master. I noticed the pride and appreciation in the woman’s eyes whenever she watched Chuli shoot.”

  Quinn grunted as she tugged on the knot, grinning when she felt it begin to give.

  “On the afternoons when we weren’t training as an archer, we spent time in the stables to work on horsemanship. Unfortunately, I discovered that caring for a horse also included mucking the stables – a job I detested. Feeding, grooming, checking shoes, and tacking the horse were all skills we had to learn before our first ride. After two weeks of this torture, I found myself upon the saddle for the first time.” She grimaced at the memory. “The thrill I experienced when first riding the horse was soon tempered by the soreness of my rear and thighs. That soreness grew worse the next day, leaving me wincing in pain each time I tried to sit.

  “Despite these new activities, each morning began with physical training that varied between running, calisthenics, rope climbing, agility training, and boxing with hay-stuffed sacks. Every day ended with a session in the arena or training yard, where we would practice and perfect our forms, sometimes in hand fighting, and other times armed with their training weapons.

  “Hand fighting duels still took place once a week, but something had changed. I began to win my duels as the attacks and responses came more naturally. Still, I longed to try my skill with the swords against a real opponent. One can only beat a sack of hay so much before it becomes redundant.

  “Seventh day remained our designated day of rest, with half the day spent in Tactics training. During the other half, we were expected to study historic battles, geography, recorded strategies, or play Ratio Bellicus. Once every four weeks, we were tasked with planning an attack or defense under a given set of circumstances.

  “This cycle continued for weeks, until Sergeant Jasmine took us to a field near the archery range. There, we joined her assistants, who waited beside a pile of tents. The sergeant announced that we would depart on our first ranger training session the next day, and we had best learn to pitch a tent or we would find ourselves sleeping without shelter. Unaware of what exactly a ranger did, I wondered about what came next.”

  With the weight of a loaded pack on one shoulder and a short bow and waterskin on the other, Quinn stared across the shadowy field. A puff of steam swirled from her mouth when she sighed – a sign of the chill hanging in the predawn mountain air. Quinn’s quill, a bedroll, and a tent big enough for two filled the pack on her back. Hirna, her tent mate, carried their food in lieu of a tent.

  Jasmine strolled past the two girls and continued down the line as she inspected the cadets. Quinn chanced a glance to the side and found her fellow first-year cadets standing at attention in a straight line. Each girl was clothed in a brown leather coat, tan breeches, and tall boots. With a pack and a bow strapped over each shoulder and a knife strapped to one thigh, they appeared ready for their first outing.

  “When we depart, we will keep a brisk pace through the forest, not slowing to a walk until we begin our ascent. You are to keep up despite the weight you carry. We will spend five nights in the mountains, moving each day and setting up a new camp each night. The afternoons will be spent teaching you ranger skills.” She stopped and smirked. “You’re lucky because the weather is mild this time of year. When we embark on our first winter session, you’ll find yourself wishing for warm and dry weather.”

  With the flick of the sergeant’s staff and nod of her head, her assistants scrambled to the fore with one girl standing to each side of her.

  “Vi will lead the first-year cadets, Lissa has the second-year cadets,” Jasmine commanded. “You will follow in tandem lines, and I will trail the squad to ensure that none of you dally. Prepare to march.”

  Jasmine waved her staff and her two assistants moved to the far end of each row, placing Quinn in the lead position of her group and Darnya leading the other. “We’re off!” she barked, and Vi began jogging across the field, heading southeast. Following the leader, Quinn ran with her heavy pack bouncing far too eagerly for her liking.

  They circled around the archery range and through the knee-high grass. When the group approached the forest edge, a narrow gap to a trail appeared, well-worn and wide enough for two to run astride, yet too small for a wagon.

  Quinn soon found herself panting as she ducked beneath low branches and leaped over downed trees. They ran up hills and down through gullies split by trickling water. After twenty minutes, the density of the forest thinned and a lake came into view. There, they reached an old road that hugged the shoreline and turned east.

  Glancing to her right, Quinn gazed at the placid waters, mirroring the purple mountains to the east and the pale breaking dawn above them. Rather than dwelling on the tiring run, she allowed herself to become numb to the effort and sink into the peaceful view. The sight of the still surface beneath the glowing sky was breathtaking – if she had the breath to spare.

  Darnya suddenly rammed her shoulder into Quinn’s, sending her stumbling onto the rocks at the shoreline. Quinn tripped, wobbled, and fell face-first into the lake.

  The shock of frigid water fed by snowmelt left Quinn gasping for air as she struggled to regain her footing. She stood in the waist-deep water, dripping wet as the other girls in her squad ran past. Some girls laughed at the sight. Others stared. Within her mind, she recalled the image of young Torney standing in the fountain. Shame for having done that to him struck her but was washed away by the anger she had toward Darnya.

  She looked down at herself. Her clothes were sopping wet, leaving her travel gear as heavy as plated armor. As she sloshed toward shore, the last girls ran past and Sergeant Jasmine slowed to a stop.

  “Falling in the water won’t make this easy, Cadet. If this were a dangerous situation, such a misstep might cost you your life.” Despite the heavy pack Jasmine carried, she did not appear winded. “We are not waiting for you, nor are there any excuses for not keeping up with the squad.”

  Unable to restrain her anger, Quinn snarled back. “Darnya did this! She pushed me in!”

  Jasmine’s eyes narrowed, matching her frown. “You are forgetting who you are addressing, Cadet.”

  Quinn pressed her lips together and held back her retort. “Sorry, Sergeant.”

  With a nod, Jasmine broke into a run, shouting back over her shoulder. “Hurry and catch up, Cadet. I highly suggest you don’t get yourself lost.”

  Soon after passing the lake, the ground began to rise and they slowed to a walk. Two hours later, they reached a saddle between two peaks and stopped for a brief rest. The sun above them warmed the air, but the chill brought by the elevation caused Quinn to shiver in her damp clothing. She didn’t talk to anyone, and nobody said a word to her. As she drank from her waterskin, she surveyed the view to the east, gazing over a valley floor surrounded by tree-covered mountainsides. Peaks near and far defined the horizon, many retaining snow on the north face despite it being well beyond the backside of summer. The land appeared wild, untouched by man.

  When the squad began the descent to the valley east o
f the saddle, they resumed their slow run down a narrow trail, requiring them to travel in single file. Branches swatted at them as they ran past. Undergrowth was trampled beneath their feet. Startled birds took flight at their approach. All the while, the sun slowly rose in the sky, toward its apex.

  Moving swiftly, the squad soon reached level ground and turned north. For another hour, they ran, not slowing until they reached a small glade among a sea of leaf trees. Pale purple flowers dotted the waving yellow grass of the glade, drawing gold and black butterflies that flitted from flower to flower. The peace of the quiet meadow was soon disturbed as Jasmine declared that they were to set camp.

  As they had practiced the previous day, their tents were arranged into two straight rows, the flaps facing one another with a gap five strides apart. Once the tents were raised, they took a quick break to eat a meal consisting of trail rations, dried beef, and hard rolls. With their hungry stomachs adequately tempered, but certainly not full, the real work began.

  Quinn found herself among the largest group - twenty girls assigned to collect strong saplings that they would carve into stakes. Four other girls were tasked with digging a fire pit at one end of the field, using small spades supplied by Vi and Lissa. Five girls were sent to find firewood. Another group of five had the task of hiding the trail left behind. The last six girls were split in two, with one following Lissa and the other following Vi. Armed with only their bows, quivers, and knives, those two groups were to hunt down dinner.

  With the stakes collected, Quinn and the rest of her group used their knives to carve sharp points and then thrust the stakes into the ground around the perimeter of the field, creating a simple, yet somewhat defensible barrier. The process took three hours and left Quinn wondering why they would spend so much time creating the barrier when they were to leave early the next day.

  As the sun edged below the peaks to the west, the fire was lit. A dinner of roasted jackaroo and dry bread followed. Soon after eating, the exhausted girls crawled into their tents to sleep. This is when Quinn realized that her bedroll had not dried from her dip in the mountain lake. Despite the dampness of her bed and the chill in the air, exhaustion won out and she fell into a deep sleep.