The Seekers and the Hidden

This book is part of an ongoing series. New books are published regularly. Visit www.childrenofthewells.com for the latest news and to get to know the authors.

Bron & Calea

The Select's Bodyguard

The Doctor's Assistant

The Well's Orphan

The Seekers and the Hidden

Jaysynn

The Fall of the House of Kyzer

The Rules Change

New Wells Rising

Call of the Watchman

The Story So Far

This is the fourth book of Bron and Calea.

Previously, in The Well’s Orphan, after traveling through the wilderness, Bron and Calea, with orphan and medical assistant Nyasha, arrived in Thyrion. It was badly damaged by the Cataclysm and its well, like Jalseion’s, was empty. This revelation destroyed Calea’s last hope of finding magic again. Seeking direction, she visited the damaged Thyrion Library. While researching, part of the ceiling collapsed, leaving Nyasha buried. Calea, unable to help, ran from the situation. After several encounters and nights on her own, she was captured by Thyrian military and taken to Lord Dracon. He gave her hope that magic might still survive, and she joined him.

Bron, having lost the one he swore to protect, is now trying to find a new life in the city….

Prologue

Bron felt his heart drop like a millstone into the dank pit of his empty stomach. Was it just minutes ago that he left Calea and Nyasha in Thyrion’s Library, or hours? Bron cursed himself for leaving his two companions alone in an unstable building. Books weren’t exactly Bron’s forte; he would’ve just been in the way of their vital research into the disappearance of magic. He was better off finding work as a way to support his friends as they did their studies.

As it turned out, Thyrion had an ample supply of work available for a man capable of lifting heavy loads out of ruined buildings. As Bron returned to the Library, he figured the two would be pleased at the news that their monetary needs would be taken care of now. Yet as he climbed back into the Library and saw the commotion of frantic workers shouting to each other to hurry, he knew in his spirit that something terrible had happened to them.

While the three originally snuck into the Library, taking great strides to remain undetected by the staff, Bron now ran past them, not caring if they knew whether he belonged there or not. As he passed them, Bron heard snippets here and there that only confirmed his deepest fears.

Ceiling collapsed, get every available man!

Fer Elthor’s sake, jus’ hurry and get down there, now!

Girl trapped, gonna need somethin’ to pry her out!

Bron knew it had to be either Calea or Nyasha. Based on the cries of the men he pushed passed, he surmised it had to be Nyasha. If it was Calea, chances are, they wouldn’t be so quick to help her. She would’ve turned all helping hands away, swearing vengeance upon any man that dared to pull her free.

In a way, Bron was grateful for the trail of workers leading him further into the bowels of the old building. All of the corridors and hallways made the library into a labyrinth of scattered books and pages that would’ve wasted valuable time with navigation. Please be all right Nyasha, thought Bron. If there’s any Being out there, please let her be safe and sound. Please send help.

Turning a corner, Bron almost ran straight into a wall of stunned workers and librarians, all crowding around the pile of rubble like silent statues. Not a single body made any effort to lift a finger to help the poor girl. Instead, they stood slack jawed, gawking at the mess. Bron felt anger boil inside of him while squeezing through the unhelpful spectators to reach the front of the crowd.

Are you all just going to stand there? growled Bron, pushing aside a guard that stood at the precipice of the gathering. Help her before she-. Bron’s voice trailed off as he too fell into stunned silence at the sight before him.

An older woman, a librarian Bron guessed from her dress and professional posture, stood at edge of the rubble, her hand covering her mouth as she stood in a daze. There, in front of her, holding up a slab of marble too heavy for any person to hold with his or her own strength, stood a boy not yet in his teens. The boy, dressed in a simple outfit, lifted the slab higher until it reached over his head. He shook the sandy colored mop of hair out of his eyes as he grunted aloud.

Can you move now? grunted the boy through gritted teeth. I don’t know how long I can hold it.

Let me try, cried the voice underneath the rubble.

From under the slab, the sound of wood clanged against the ground, and up from the pit of metal and rock came Nyasha’s unmistakable form, covered from head to toe in dust. Nyasha stumbled out of the reach of the marble slab and collapsed into the waiting arms of the stunned librarian. The boy moved backwards before dropping the heavy slab with a deafening thud. At once, the crowd erupted in cheers and thunderous claps as the boy shuffled to Nyasha and the librarian. Nyasha shifted to the boy and embraced him with a tight hug, getting some of the dust on the boy’s clothing.

See, I told you I could get you out of there, said the boy.

Thank you, thank you for saving me, thanked Nyasha as tears formed in her eyes.

The elder librarian composed herself and grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him away from Nyasha.

Asher, we need to go, now! hissed the librarian in a state of panic.

Asher took one last look at Nyasha and waved as the librarian pulled him in the opposite direction of the crowd.

It was nice to meet you, shouted the bright-eyed boy with a wide smile as he grabbed a hold of the librarian’s hand and rejoined her. Coming, grandma.

The two hurried out of the room, followed by a few inquisitive members of the crowd hot on their heels wanting a look at the boy for themselves. The onlookers talked amongst themselves with an excited frenzy, speaking over each other with oral chaos.

Who was that? I hadn’t seen him around here before.

Whoever he is, he’ll be the talk of Thyrion before long.

The boy lifted that stone like a toy. But I thought magic didn’t exist anymore. Is that boy a Select?

What if the young held onto their magic?

A few of the onlookers turned their attention to Nyasha and they swarmed her as the stunned girl tried to balance herself amidst the gathering crowd. Bron regained his composure as he pushed through the crowd once again

I’m fine, I’m fine, just a little dazed is all, assured Nyasha to one of the men as Bron reached her side.

Give her some space, ordered Bron as he pushed some of the people away from her. Nyasha, what happened?

Nyasha’s eyes grew wide at the familiar sight of her friend, and she clasped Bron in a hug.

Bron, I knew you’d come, said Nyasha. The ceiling collapsed while Calea and I were searching for answers. I pushed her out of the way, but got caught in the avalanche of the ceiling.

Bron looked around the room for Calea, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Calea, where is she? asked Bron with a hint of worry in his tone. Nyasha scoffed bitterly as she shook her head.

I don’t know, answered Nyasha. I stopped hearing her after I called out for help.

As more workers and guards filled the ever-shrinking hallway, Bron tugged Nyasha’s arm towards the direction the boy and the librarian escaped from moments earlier.

We should get out of here before we’re detained for questioning, warned Bron. Can you walk?

I’ll keep up, reassured Nyasha as she followed behind Bron.

The two made haste further down the innards of the library, staying ahead of the shouts of the guards far behind them. The twisting hallways lead to a stairwell filled with natural light. An exit towards the outside lay just ahead for the escaping duo. As Bron looked back to check on Nyasha, he couldn’t help but notice the bright smile on his young companion’s face.

You seem happy for someone who was almost crushed to death, said Bron as he navigated up the flight of steps. Nyasha let out a laugh that echoed through the barren stairwell.

Isn’t it obvious, Bron? explained Nyasha, unable to contain her glee. The world is changing, and we just witnessed it firsthand. We have hope.

Chapter 1 - The Forgotten Bodyguard

She was right. My head might as well be filled with these useless, broken rocks in my shovel, thought Bron as he grunted and heaved the pile of debris out of the second story apartment window. With a clatter like rain, the garbage fell into the refuse receptacle outside the building, dust spreading over the area in a cement cloud. Reaching into his back pocket, Bron pulled out a red handkerchief and wiped the dusty sweat from his forehead and hair. He was overdue for a haircut and probably a shave, too, he realized as he scratched the stubble that covered his face. He’d have to see if Barona could give him one sometime this evening.

Squeezing out the handkerchief, Bron’s fingers scrunched together to wring every drop of sweat out of his handy cloth. His hands, worn and calloused from years of hard labor, felt nothing as he gripped it tighter. Nothing, no blood pumping, just two tools only useful for moving the shattered dreams of dead or broken people. Placing the rag back into his back pocket, the weary construction worker grabbed his metal shovel and scooped up another pile of rocks, heaving it up.

Had it only been four months since he had last seen her? Calea Lisan, the young brilliant Select he once swore to protect at all costs. Calea Lisan, the fiercely independent, yet fragile woman who had limitless potential with her intellect and unrivaled skill at magic. Most sane men would’ve given up on her long ago, but not Bron. Not even a cataclysmic earthquake stood in his way as he braved the chaotic streets of Jalseion to find her. Bron had sworn to himself that he’d never shirk from his post and abandon her. Deep down, the bodyguard knew she needed him, despite her insistence that she didn’t need him.

Yet here he was, left to rot with the rubble in Thyrion, a relic of a now bygone era. Calea abandoned him. She had tried time and time again before, but Bron knew it was different now, a kind of permanence. The other times Calea threw him away didn’t bother him as much as it did this time. He had come to her with the promise of an answer, a new hope amidst the despair and bleakness brought upon by the quake and the emptying of the wells. For once, Bron thought he had something that would genuinely bring comfort to his inconsolable charge. Magic hadn’t died with the cataclysm, but like life returning to a burnt forest, it was resurfacing in ways never seen before. But as he waited for Calea the day after he saw her last down that dark alley, and then the day after without the slightest sign of her, he knew she wasn’t coming back.

Bron dumped the next load out the window and watched the resulting crash explode into the receptacle. He tapped his shovel against the ground a few times with a metallic clang. Perhaps this all could’ve been easier to handle if that was the last he’d heard of her. Maybe if she had found refuge with other some other like-minded Select scientists, then he’d feel a bit better. For some time, Bron hoped this had been the case, but only a few days ago his fears became reality...

~~~

Bron was eating his lunch with the clean up crew when Kham, the eldest of the workers, lifted his grey and balding head from sipping the broth from his spoon.

There was a scuffle in the apartment below mine last night.

The other three perked their heads up, and Luiz Weirs, the youngest and chattiest one in the bunch spoke up. Luiz wasn’t one to miss out on a conversation about brawling.

Oh yeah? A break in? asked Luiz.

No, looked like officials, but none I’ve seen before, replied Kham. Miika, the scrawniest of the bunch with sunken eyes shook his head.

Best t’ keep yer voices low, he warned in his raspy voice. I’ve seen ‘em around, too. They look like normal Thyrians, but it’s just fer show. They could be anywhere, even outside this building. I heard someone call ‘em Surveyors.

Bron looked up from his half eaten loaf of bread and swallowed the piece he had in his mouth.

What do these Surveyors want with your neighbor? questioned Bron. Kham and Miika looked at each other and scoffed.

Whatta ya know, the Jalseian speaks, said Miika, nudging Kham with the back of his hand.

I speak when I need to, replied Bron, unamused by the jesting.

Are you lookin’ to overthrow them? said Kham. Bron placed his bread beside him preparing to defend himself when Luiz jumped in before he had the chance.

Hey, the man asked a question, snapped Luiz. Doesn’t matter where he came from.

Kham wasn’t amused by Luiz’s rebuff, but the elder Thyrian relented.

Relax, they’re not looking for outsiders as far as I can tell, continued Kham, giving his young coworker an annoyed glare. Elmine was a Thyrian through and through. Word had it though that the other day, after accidentally locking him and his wife out of their apartment, he walked right through the locked door like it was an illusion or something. Kham took a sip of broth from his spoon and shook his head. Looks like he did it in front of the wrong person.

See, that wasn’t so hard was it? asked Luiz, giving Bron a nod before scooting back in his seat. Bron returned the nod to Luiz as thanks. Miika snorted as he finished chewing a bite of cheese from his lunch.

Gotta’ be careful these days, muttered Miika under his breath. Word has it the Palace is lookin’ fer people showin’ gifts that the Select useta have. I heard from a guy in the military that there’s a witch in the dungeons experimentin’ on those they catch. Real piece of work she is. Missin’ an arm and a leg from what I hear, probably from an experiment gone wrong.

Bron’s ears perked up, and his fist squeezed the bread in his hand until that section became as flat as paper.

This witch, do they know her name? inquired Bron. Miika shrugged his shoulders after tossing back his flask for a swig of a substance other than water.

Dunno, that’s all I know, said Miika. The calloused Thyrian smirked as he leaned back against the wall he reclined against, lifting a knee close to his chest. Why, ya wanna meet her? Ya wouldn’t. No one picked up by Surveyors are ever seen again.

~~~

With a great thrust, Bron shoved his shovel deep into the middle of his rubble pile and lifted the weighty load up chest high. The frustrated Jalseian took step after step towards the window and heaved his pile out of the window, not bothering to check if it all landed safely in the receptacle. At least I have routine, Bron mused to himself, trying to find some sort of comfort in the mess that surrounded him. I don’t have to think about what’s become of her. Bron stood straight as someone whistled in surprise in the door behind him.

Look at this, most of the kitchen’s clear, said Luiz as he leaned an arm against his shovel. Luiz strolled towards the rubble pile, twisting his shovel between his hands. You’re putting us all to shame, man. Bet Von could get rid of everyone but you and you’d still clear this whole place out in a day without any help.

Out of all the men he worked with, Bron by far preferred the company of Luiz. The scrappy and bronze skinned Thyrian understood Bron the most, letting the brutish Jalseian work while he chatted about, never demanding a response as he brooded in his work. Luiz scratched his moustache and goatee as he looked about the garbage pile Bron was in the process of clearing out.

Check it out, there’s a few kitchen knives still here, observed Luiz, picking one of the dirty blades up from the center of the pile. I use to carry something similar back when I used to run around in the streets during my unenlightened days. For defensive purposes of course, Luiz added with a wry smile. Luiz flicked the hilt of the knife into the air before catching it in a downward motion. The Slums aren’t a safe place to run around unarmed.

Bron moved back to the rubble pile and scooped up another load for lifting.

I used to carry a knife myself before I started here, mumbled Bron as he hefted the load to the window. Luiz’s eyes widened in surprise as he rubbed back his short black hair.

You don’t say. Show me, old man, challenged Luiz, extending the hilt of the blade towards the unamused Jalseian. Unless you’re rusty from shoveling all day.

Bron pondered for a moment, wondering if he should indulge his young companion in his test of skill. The ex-bodyguard straightened his back and moved his neck side to side, an audible cracking noise reverberating in the bare kitchen. Tossing aside his shovel with a clang, Bron shuffled towards Luiz and took the blade from his extended hand.

Pick a spot on the wall over there, ordered Bron, pointing at the western kitchen wall away from windows and doors. Luiz scratched the bottom of his goatee-covered chin and studied the wall, adorned with flowery wallpaper that had great portions coming loose from the cracked plaster.

See that red rose in the middle here? asked the young Thyrian. Luiz walked up to the red rose drawing chest high from the ground and gave a few pats on it. Betcha can’t hit it.

Luiz stepped back and stood behind Bron as he studied his target. Bron felt the weight of the knife in his hand, much lighter than the blades he used to carry around and tossed the hilt up and down. Satisfied with his preparation, Bron took the knife blade first and aimed at the red rose with his right hand. Bron spread his legs apart and knelt a bit, pulling back his right arm before snapping it forward with expert swiftness.

THUNK!

The blade sunk deep into the plaster wall, right where the bulb of the rose met with the thin thorny stem. Luiz whistled in amazement as he moved in to survey Bron’s work.

Dang man, you hit most of the stem, congratulated Luiz as he moved around the imbedded blade. Guess I’m eating my words for dinner!

Bron flashed a smirk on his face as he crossed his arms in satisfaction.

Not bad for an old man, am I? snorted Bron. Luiz grinned, as he stood erect against the wall.

Heh, finally got you to smile, beamed Luiz, resting his hands behind his head as he leaned against the wall. It suites you. Thyrion has more than enough grimaces goin’ around, man.

Before Bron could respond, the sound of slow clapping snapped the two workers back to reality as a middle-aged woman with short blond hair stepped into the room, clapping slowly. She eyed them both with a stern face, defined lines etched on her stony face.

Impressive Mr. Huma, but shouldn’t you and Mr. Weirs be concentrating on clearing out this kitchen rather than destroying it further?

Luiz whistled a tune as he looked about the room with an innocent face as Bron stood to attention and placed his hands behind his back.

Sorry Vonnel, it won’t happen again, apologized a sincere Bron, giving her direct eye contact. Vonnel Motaris was the forewoman, and boss to the clean up operation Bron and Luiz worked for.  Vonnel sighed as she entered the room, making notes on her clipboard with a pencil.

I’m sure you’re the innocent party in all of this, said Vonnel as she took notes of the condition of the room. You’ve always been the model employee. I have no doubt who egged you on for your little show. Isn’t that right, Mr. Weirs?

Luiz kicked a loose stone and flashed an innocent smile towards Vonnel. Vonnel deflected the smile with a cool stare that could remove the hair from a rabid dog. Luiz, however, remained unfazed.

Ah, we were just havin’ a little fun, ma’am, said Luiz, widening his arms defensively. I was just curious if he could throw a knife.

And so he can, agreed Vonnel, before letting out a sigh. But your shifts are over. Go home, you two.

Yes ma’am, replied both Bron and Luiz, and the two walked past Vonnel as she continued making notes. Before they exited the door, the forewoman cleared her throat, stopping them cold in their tracks.

Oh, and Luiz, added Vonnel. Please remind Ursanne that her father and I are expecting you both over Saturday night for dinner. Ferro worries when she dawdles between visits. Thyrion wasn’t exactly safe to begin with, and the quake has brought the worst out of people.

You got it, boss, noted Luiz, and the two coworkers slipped out of sight, down the shambled stairwell to the first floor of the old apartment.

~~~

Bron pushed aside the wooden front