The buried symbol, p.22
The Buried Symbol, page 22
Curious, Benny sat beside him, inspecting the book. “Open it and see what it says.”
Brock opened the book, looking up at Benny.
Benny squinted at the inside in confusion.
“What language is that?”
Brock smiled. “I have no idea.”
Benny looked confused. “If you have no idea, why take the book?”
Closing the book, Brock looked at the cover. “I don’t know. There’s something about it, something about this symbol.”
Benny leaned in, staring hard at the rune. “I don’t know that one. I have a super good memory. I know I’ve never seen that rune before.”
“I agree,” Brock said. “But, it’s still special to me. I can’t explain it.”
“Are you two going to blabber all day, or can I get some sleep?” Cam peeked from under his pillow.
“Sorry Cam.” Benny stood. “We were just about to leave.”
Stuffing the book in the drawer, Brock followed Benny out.
Once in the hallway, Benny squirmed in anticipation. “Let’s get some food, and then we can go finish the catapult.”
Brock smiled at how Benny thrived on the catapult project, making it clear why his friend wanted to be an Engineer so badly. It was certainly Benny’s passion.
They grabbed a quick breakfast of porridge and fruit before making the trek out to the catapult. A layer of frost covered the ground, their footsteps crunching as they crossed the yard behind the Foundry. When they neared the outbuilding, Brock noticed footprints in the frost leading to their stall. Recalling his conversation with Parker, anxiety began to twist his stomach. He pulled on the door and it opened to reveal an empty stall other than the catapult and a few tools.
Benny looked at Brock. “Didn’t you guys lock the door last night?”
Brock pulled the other door open and more light bled into the stall. “Oh, I locked it alright. But locks are beatable, Benny.” He held the key up for Benny to see, the only key that existed for this lock. “This is an easy lock to pick, a single tumbler.”
Benny stared at his precious catapult, concern showing on his face. “Why would somebody break in here? Do you think they want to steal my ideas? The competition is tomorrow. That doesn’t leave much time.”
Although Parker’s confiding in Brock was meant to be a private, Benny needed to know. He told Benny of how Corbin wanted Parker to sabotage their catapult but left out other details.
Benny put his palm on the catapult as if to feel for a pulse. “I was awake when Parker came into our room last night. I put out the light, and we both went to sleep. When I woke today, he was still in bed. I don’t think he left the room.”
Brock nodded. That’s what he wanted to hear, not wanting to believe Parker would betray them.
“Okay. For now, let’s not worry about who was in here. Let’s figure out what they did.”
They spent the next few hours tightening nuts and bolts. Some were completely missing, two so critical that the launch arm would have torn off when tension was applied.
It was past noon by the time they finished. However, they weren’t about to leave their precious catapult untended. Instead, they decided to take turns sitting with their creation to keep it safe from further tampering. Brock told Benny to go eat and then to find Cam. When Cam came to relieve Brock, he would go get food.
Benny left with Brock pacing outside the stall, lost in thought. He soon spotted a group crossing the yard as they headed toward the far end of the outbuilding. At the front of the group was Corbin Ringholdt. As he waited for Karl to unlock the stall, Corbin stared at Brock. A smile crossed Corbin’s face when their eyes met. While Brock remained stoic, he felt the heat of anger bubbling within.
The door swung open, and the five boys disappeared inside. Brock stared in their direction for another minute with his emotions storming. He walked back into his own stall and put his hand on the catapult. A spark of inspiration struck him. He picked up a chisel and began carving the wood frame. He dug and scraped at the wood, shaping it to meet the image in his mind.
He stared at the symbol he had carved, running his fingers over the grooves. It was a perfect replica of the symbol from the book cover. He still didn’t know what it was, but it spoke to him. It was something special. He could feel it.
* * *
With the catapult under Cam’s watch, Brock hastened to the dining hall. It was late afternoon, and he hadn’t eaten since sun up. Shirley, as friendly as ever, heated some leftovers from lunch for him. He stayed and listened to her chatting as he ate, chasing the food with a glass of milk. When he was finished, he thanked the kind old woman before leaving in search of Ashland.
He knocked on the door to her room, but when there was no response, he descended the stairs and headed outside.
Squinting in the late afternoon sun, he scanned the lawn from the top of the stone stairs, finding students scattered in small clusters throughout the wide space. After a bit of searching, he became anxious. He desperately wanted to see her.
Brock’s heart leapt when he spotted her rounding the bend on the road that looped around the back of the complex. He hurried down the stairs and cut across the lawn to intercept her. She smiled when she saw him, quickening her step.
Just before meeting, they both stopped, looking into each other’s eyes. Ashland’s smile ignited a sense of joy inside of him.
“I’m glad I found you. I was beginning to worry,” Brock said.
“Sorry. I decided to take a walk, so I made the loop around the backside,” Ashland replied as she glanced down at her hands clasped with his. When did that happen? Her eyes flipped back up, their gazes locking. “I happened to see Cameron when I passed the Engineering outbuilding. He told me that you left to get food. I was hoping you’d be out here by the time I circled around.”
“Really?” he said, smiling. “You were hoping I’d be here. I find that interesting.”
“Are you mocking me?”
He pulled her close and her eyes drifted closed when their lips intertwined. Brock’s head spun in the rush of the kiss. His body reacted to the passion building up inside, causing his pulse to race. Reluctantly, he pulled away, still holding her with his hands on the small of her back.
“I’m happy to see you too.” He gazed into her eyes.
She smiled and backed away, grabbing his hand in hers.
“Let’s go for a walk.” She pulled him along.
They walked hand-in-hand down the road that led to Fallbrandt. The leaf trees they passed stood bare other than a few rogue leaves, refusing to give in.
“I’m sorry that I haven’t spent much time with you recently,” he said. “It just took so much time to construct our catapult.”
“Don’t worry. I understand.” She leaned over, hugging his arm close. “Remember that I was in your shoes a year ago, working with a team to build one of our own.”
“Oh yeah. I forget about that,” he said. “So, how did you do?”
“We ended up third.” She then turned and smiled. “They kept our catapult though. They keep the top three each year and tear down the rest for parts. Who knows, maybe they’ll use it for something important someday.”
He smiled back. “That’s pretty amazing.”
They walked in quiet for a while, just enjoying each other’s company until Ashland finally broke the silence.
“Brock, I don’t really know much about you. I like you, and I like who I see in you, but I don’t know anything about you.”
He thought about what to tell her. “I’m from a port city in Kantaria, on the Indigo Ocean. I had…a difficult childhood. I was close to my mother, but she died during my sixth summer.”
Ashland stopped and put a hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry, Brock. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to lose her when you were so young.”
Feeling vulnerable around this girl, he shed a tear at his mother’s loss for the first time in years. She wiped his tear away and leaned in for a kiss, her lips tenderly brushing his before pulling away. She flashed a smile, and he immediately felt better.
As they resumed walking, he continued his story. “Prior to my mother’s death, my father seemed to love me a lot. After she died, he changed. In the years after, he became cold and distant. It’s as if he forgot how to find joy in life. Luckily, I had my mother’s sister to take care of me until she got sick this past spring. She died a few weeks later. I…I tried to save her. I was so close...”
Ashland stopped again, meeting his eyes. “Wasn’t there a master healer at the city temple?”
“Yeah. But he wouldn’t come to heal her.” Brock’s frustration at the situation resurfaced. “I couldn’t even get a medicus to help. When I finally convinced one, the price was quite steep, and then it was too late.”
Ashland was confused. “I don’t understand.”
He took a breath and answered. “My aunt was Unchosen.”
Ashland stared at him for a moment and then nodded. “I understand.”
She leaned in for a deep, long kiss. When the kiss ended, she gazed into his eyes as if searching for something within.
“Thank you, Brock. You just confirmed everything I thought I knew about you.”
“And what is it that you know about me?” he asked.
Ashland’s eyes lowered. “I know you’re a good person and you have a good heart. I know you care about people and you’ll do anything to support your friends.” She paused, her eyes rising to meet his. “And now I know you see Unchosen as people who matter. You realize that they deserve to live full lives and have hopes and dreams like anyone else.”
Not knowing what to say, Brock nodded silently. Something was happening. Somewhere along the way, something had changed. He now couldn’t imagine living without this girl. He considered telling her that he was Unchosen. Just as the words began to form on his lips, she spoke.
“That’s where it happens.” She nodded toward the southeast.
Brock turned to look in the direction indicated. There was a half-circle mound near the base of the mountain, just north of the woods. Noting the horizontal lines crossing the mound, he realized it was seating for an outdoor arena.
“That’s where the Catapult Challenge will be held tomorrow,” she said.
Brock glanced back toward the Academy. “I didn’t realize it would be so far from the school.”
“You’ll have to push your catapult all the way down here in the morning.” She smiled. “That’s not the worst of it though. You have to push it all the way back after the competition.”
He glanced back at the Academy again. It had to be two miles away and at least a hundred feet uphill. “Well, I’m glad we have Cam and Lars then.”
Ashland laughed. “That will help.”
“Will you come down to watch?”
She nudged him. “You’re silly to think I might miss it. It’s one of the biggest events of the year. Don’t you know that they close the school for the afternoon? Everyone will be there.”
35
Everyone was there. Blue-cloaked students and purple-cloaked masters filled the benches along the slopes of the mound. Humming chatter filled the air as the spectators waited for the event to begin.
An engineering assistant came around with water flasks, handing one to each team. Feeling parched after an hour of pushing their catapult to the competition area, Brock took a swig from the flask before handing it to Cameron, who took a big drink before passing it to Parker.
Brock gazed across the Academy lawn and found himself dreading pushing the contraption back up to the school. He glanced toward Benny, who rocked his shoulders while watching the last few competing catapults roll in. Consumed with anxiety about the competition, Benny had relieved Cam shortly after sunset the prior evening. When Brock opened the stall door in the morning, he found Benny sleeping under a blanket against a catapult wheel.
A count of the catapults lining the side of the field, yielded 29 machines, including the two still rolling in. That meant one remained. Brock looked toward the main road, partially obstructed by the trees beside it. The last catapult slowly emerged, turning onto the narrow road that lead to the field where the teams waited.
“Oh no,” Benny mumbled.
Noticing that Benny was staring at the last catapult, Brock looked harder at the contraption. Something about it seemed odd. After a moment, he realized how small the students pushing it appeared. The catapult was huge, easily twice the size as theirs. The launch arm of the machine wasn’t made of one timber like most, but of three timbers bolted together with the middle timber offset so half of it extended beyond the other two. The basket on the launch arm bobbed high in the air as the machine rumbled along.
When the huge catapult came to a rest at the end of the line, the students pushing it began clapping each other on the back. That’s when Brock realized it was Corbin’s team. Led by Karl Jarlish, Corbin and his cronies had constructed a massive catapult.
A mixture of emotions stirred within as Brock watched Corbin and the others stroll to the judging tables for check in. Soon after, the lottery would take place to determine the launch order.
Headmaster Vandermark stepped onto the field to face the stands as Master Nindlerod and another Master Engineer joined him. Vandermark waved his hands to quiet the crowd. When the chatter subsided, he addressed the audience.
“Students and colleagues, I welcome you to our annual Catapult Challenge. This is where our first-year students display their ingenuity and engineering prowess.
“Since most of you are familiar with the rules, I’ll not dwell on them today. Instead, I urge you to cheer on the contestants and their amazing creations. If we’re lucky, one of these teams will surpass the long-standing record of 1087 feet.” He paused briefly. “Introducing one of the members of the record-holding team, please welcome Master Pherran Nindlerod.”
The small man waved to the crowd as Vandermark continued.
“Master Nindlerod and Master Shim join me as the judges of today’s event.” Vandermark turned to the two Engineering Masters. “Master Engineers, will you please announce the first team?”
As Vandermark returned to the judging table, Nindlerod stepped forward, holding a cone-shaped device to his mouth.
“Students and faculty, I thank you for joining us. I see some serious promise in the designs before you. It appears that my long-standing record is, indeed, in jeopardy today. You don’t want to miss this.”
He paused and announced, “Our first catapult team includes Salina Alridge, Jonnis Farkle, Herry Dangst, Merrick Tandlehoff, and Barton Hinks.”
The small man and his co-judge retreated to the judging table as the first team pushed their catapult forward. An engineering assistant stood at the launch line, explaining the process to the team as they rolled the catapult into position.
Jonnis waited beside the wagon that held the large metal spheres that they were to launch. Merrick and Herry cranked the launch arm back, securing it into position. When it was ready, Jonnis lifted a big metal ball, grunting as he shuffled to the catapult and dumped the ball into the launch basket.
Salina stepped up to the catapult as her team members backed away. She looked toward the judges table, waiting.
Nindlerod held the cone up to his mouth and shouted, “Fire!”
The girl pulled the release and the launch arm shot forward. The dark metal ball sailed into the air, arching high before it fell and landed mid-way between the first and second line of stakes posted across the field. A female student ran onto the field with a thin rope, sliding a loop around the nearest post before running to the spot where the ball landed. After taking a quick measure, she unhooked the rope and ran back to the edge, where four other students waited. The students shuffled around until three of them stood side-by-side, each holding a sign with a number on it.
Nindlerod put the cone to his mouth and shouted. “Their first attempt is two hundred thirty-two feet!”
Some in the crowd cheered, while others booed.
Brock found the process informative. He now understood that the arcing lines of stakes were distance markers, the first line being 200 feet out and additional lines posted every 100 feet.
After a second launch that was slightly further, the first team was finished. While they pushed their machine to the side, Nindlerod announced the next team and students with wheelbarrows retrieved the two metal balls.
The process continued repeatedly over the next hour, yielding mixed results with none of the first ten teams launching a projectile beyond the 800-foot line. The eleventh team called was Corbin’s.
Due to the sheer mass of their catapult, it took twice as long to push the machine into launch position. Two students cranked the huge launch arm back and Corbin dumped the metal ball into the launch basket. Everyone but Karl backed away as he readied for launch.
Nindlerod shouted, “Fire!”
Karl pulled the release and the arm snapped forward, launching the ball high into the air. As Brock watched the ball sailing through the sky, he realized that the crowd was quiet. A low thump sounded from far across the field, a half-second after the ball landed. This time, it took the girl much longer to run out and measure the distance. When the measure came in, it took four students holding signs to score the launch.
Nindlerod shouted. “First launch, one thousand one hundred and twenty feet. A new record!”
The crowd erupted. Cheers and screams echoed above the applause. Corbin ate it up, facing them as he pounded both fists into the air, as if he had done it by himself. Brock glared at his enemy with loathing.
The next launch fell a bit short of the first, but it didn’t matter. The record had been broken and Corbin had won. Frustration began to well up inside of Brock. He couldn’t lose to Corbin again, not to that hateful jerk. His hand rested on the frame of the catapult, his fingers feeling the grooves of the rune he had carved. Without considering what he was doing, Brock seized his anger and frustration. He closed his eyes, drawing in the angry red storm around him until he could no longer contain it. His eyes flashed open and he poured the energy into the rune, which glowed red and pulsed briefly before fading. With the storm of emotion spent, Brock suddenly felt numb and exhausted.
