The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) (22 page)

“
Oh, I
’
m sorry.
”
She pulled his hand closer to examine.
“
It appears broken.
”

Brock nodded.
“
That
’
s what Master Budakis said. It got smacked pretty hard by his quarterstaff.
”

Master Varius looked surprised.
“
You sparred against Budakis with staves, and your only injury is a broken finger?
”

“
Um, yeah,
”
he said, not sure what she meant.
“
We only sparred for a couple minutes though.
”

“
He
’
s a master paladin. In a couple minutes, he can maim or kill numerous men with a quarterstaff,
”
she said, looking at the finger.

“
Um, okay,
”
he replied.

She looked him in the eye.
“
I can heal that for you. Just stay still. You
’
ll feel a bit of a chill.
”

She held Brock
’
s wrist, not even touching his injured finger. Her eyes closed and a wave of icy cold washed over him, constricting his chest and making it hard to breathe. Moments later, it was gone. He sucked in a deep breath, gasping for air that had eluded him for mere moments. An involuntary chill shook his body, bumps rising on his arms. His stomach growled in hunger, demanding to be fed.

Varius opened her eyes and smiled.
“
How does it feel?
”

To his surprise, he felt no pain at all. He lifted his hand for examination and found that his finger looked healthy, the color and size back to normal. He flexed it and it felt fine.

“
That
’
s amazing.
”
Brock stared at his finger.
“
It feels great.
”

Varius smiled.
“
The power of
Order
can do wondrous things.
”

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a hard roll and handing it to him.

“
What
’
s this?
”
he asked.

“
I believe it
’
s a roll, Brock. You know, something you eat?
”
she replied with a smile.

“
Um
…
I know. But why are you giving this to me?
”
he asked.

She lifted an eyebrow.
“
Aren
’
t you hungry?
”

“
Well, I am starving. But, how did you know?
”

“
Healing requires energy from your own body. It leaves you hungry. You need food to replenish the energy that gets used,
”
she replied.
“
And that
’
s your first lesson in the arts of
Order
.
”

Brock nodded and took a bite of the roll, trying to chew quickly.

Varius turned and began pacing the dais. She clasped her hands behind her back, appearing to be in deep thought. As he finished the roll, she stopped and nodded as if she had made a decision.

She stepped close, looking into his eyes.
“
Brock, I want you to place your palm on my forehead.
”

He lifted his hand and put it on her forehead, covering the rune of Issal.

“
Now, close your eyes and calm yourself. Try to find peace within.
”

Brock nodded and closed his eyes. He was calm, relaxed.

She spoke again.
“
Try to absorb something from my mind through the connection of your palm on my forehead. Concentrate and try to discern what runes reside within my head. They will come to you as images. Remember them all, in order. You
’
ll need to write them down when you
’
re done.
”

Taking a breath, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. Just beyond, he could sense the hot energy that he had felt the night Hank had died and again with the boulder in the cave. However, within himself, he felt a cool and calm peace.

He pushed his mind toward Varius, feeling the calm cool peace within her. In his mind
’
s eye, a rune began coalesce. It was the rune of Issal. However, that wasn
’
t all. He sensed other runes beyond the first. Probing deeper, he saw the rune of
Medicus
just beneath. Further down, he could make out the rune of
Cognitio
. Further yet, two additional runes. He committed them to memory.

Opening his eyes, he removed his hand. Varius gestured toward the altar where a piece of paper, a bottle of ink, and a feather pen lay waiting.

“
Please write down what you saw, in order.
”

Brock stepped up to the altar, picked up the pen, and began recording the runes. When finished, five runes marked the paper as had seen in his mind. He handed the paper to Varius.

After examining the paper longer than he thought was comfortable, she lowered it and smiled.

“
Thank you, Brock,
”
she said.
“
You
’
re dismissed. Please exit the way you came in. I
’
ve arranged for another student to guide you to your next evaluation.
”

CHAPTER 34

Brock stepped out of the temple, still unsure of what had transpired. He had no idea if he had done well or failed miserably.

A figure in a blue cloak stepped from the shadows, startling him. It was a girl about his height. Her brown hair was tied back, a few stray curls dangling against her cheeks. She had a pretty face--not particularly delicate, but definitely female.

Her eyes were her most striking feature. The contrast of those bright blue eyes against her tawny skin made them even more striking. He felt as if those eyes could see into his soul. She looked him up and down before speaking.

“
I was asked to lead you to your next evaluation.
”

“
Hello.
”
He smiled, trying to be engaging.
“
I
’
m Brock. I
’
m pleased to meet you.
”

She glanced down at his extended hand before turning to walk away. Still holding his hand out, Brock hesitated a moment before he gathered his wits and followed.

They left the Ecclesiast Wing, crossing the main hallway that cut through the center of the school. Without pausing or turning, she continued down the opposite wing. After passing a number of doors, the hallway ended with two massive doors in the wall before them. A man-sized door was cut into one of the two larger doors. She opened that door and waved Brock inside.

Once he was through, the girl said,
“
Welcome to
the Foundry. Master Nindlerod is waiting for you.
”

She closed the door, leaving him alone. Brock turned to examine the sight before him, trying to work it out in his head.

Dozens of pipes ran along the walls, twisting and turning in layers down the length of the building. Large vats boiled and bubbled. Fire burned in hot forges. A machine was pumping out steam while gears spun and rods swung up and down. Large tools leaned against the walls, and others were strewn upon workbenches. It seemed a mess but a glorious mess.

Brock began walking the floor, searching for the master engineer. He saw two boys looking at plans spread out on a workbench. Another was pounding a hot orange lump of metal, fresh from a nearby forge. A girl was blowing through a tube at a tiny piece of glass held over a flame. Two other students were connecting a heavy rope and hook to a pulley hanging from the ceiling. It all seemed quite amazing.

Brock spotted a man in a purple cloak working in a far corner. The master had a receding hairline surrounded by curly gray hair. A pair of metal tubes with glass lenses were strapped over his eyes, the strange spectacles making him look like an oversized bug. The man
’
s hand gripped metal tongs, holding a small copper tube over a flame.

Brock approached, about to address him when the man spoke.

“
Don
’
t just stand there; use those tweezers to grab that ball from the casting.
”

Brock grabbed the shiny metal tweezers and looked at the metal block. A tiny metal ball lay half-buried in a small hole within the block. He carefully grabbed the ball with the tweezers and held it up.

“
Good,
”
the master said.
“
Now insert the ball into the heated end of this tube. Be gentle now because half of the ball must remain sticking out when we
’
re done.
”

Brock held the metal ball to the hot end of the copper tube, still over the flame. He attempted to push the ball in, but the hole was a bit small. He pushed harder, and the ball slid into the tube until half was sticking out.

Master Nindlerod removed the tube from the flame and began blowing on it.

“
Okay.
”
The master gestured to his side.
“
Now pick up that glass tube for me.
”

Brock grabbed the tube, holding it toward Nindlerod, who slipped the copper tube inside the glass tube. The taper at the bottom of the glass tube stopped the copper tube from going all the way through, leaving the metal ball sticking out the bottom.

Nindelrod removed the strange spectacles, replacing them with common round spectacles.
“
There it is. Isn
’
t it exquisite?
”

Brock nodded.

Nindlerod eyed him.
“
You don
’
t know what it is, do you?
”

Brock shook his head.
“
I
’
ve never seen anything quite like it, sir.
”

“
Of course you haven
’
t, you ninny,
”
Nindelrod replied.
“
I
’
ve only just invented it.
”
He held it closer for Brock to inspect.
“
Even though you haven
’
t seen it before, perhaps you can guess what it
does
?
”

Brock looked at the glass tube. It appeared to be a holder for the copper tube. He wet his finger in case the metal was still hot, using it to test the metal ball. It spun in the tube. In his mind, he tried to imagine it working.
What if liquid was in the tube?
he thought. The ball might block the end and prevent the liquid from leaking, especially if it was a thick liquid. However, a small bit would still coat the ball when rotated.

Brock smiled.
“
I think this is an amazing invention. It
’
ll be wonderful!
”

Nindlerod smiled.
“
Thank you. I have the same feeling myself. Sometimes the smallest inventions yield the best
…
.Wait! You still haven
’
t told me what you think it is.
”

Still smiling, Brock said,
“
It
’
s a new kind of pen. A pen that holds ink and lets a little out at a time. No need to dip into the ink well any longer.
”

Nindlerod nodded.
“
Good.
Very
good.
”

The master grabbed a dropper filled with black ink. He carefully squirted the ink into the copper tube and capped it with a small piece of cork. He then turned to a piece of paper on the workbench, eager to test his new toy.

The pen rolled across the paper, but left no ink trail. Back and forth, he swept the pen until black streaks began trailing the pen
’
s path.

Nindlerod looked up with a grin.
“
Outstanding. Pretencia will have to eat his shoe now.
”

Brock grinned back. He didn
’
t like Pretencia much.
“
Eat his shoe, sir?
”