Jimmy Chartron and the Lost Keystone

By J.T. Michaels

"... Jimmy Chartron and the Lost Keystone... is an exciting and original read..." - The Children's Book Review

Author J.T. Michaels brings a fantasy tale of an ancient war, a modern-day murder mystery, mystical creatures, and memorable characters in his masterfully written young adult novel,

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.T. Michaels
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781778035210

J.T. Michaels

J.T. Michaels is a Canadian writer from beautiful British Columbia. He first discovered his passion for storytelling while working on a storyline for a computer game that never materialized. The rough storyline eventually transformed into a tale about a blonde-hair, sixteen-year-old who fights evil alongside a ghost.When Michaels isn't writing, you can find him exploring the outdoors, traveling to exotic lands, or scouring bookstores with a coffee cup in hand. Also, he wants a dog one day but that might not happen for a while.

Book preview

Jimmy Chartron and the Lost Keystone

J.T. Michaels

J.T. Michaels

Copyright © 2022 J.T. Michaels

Title Design by Katherine Britt

Cover illustrations by Alejandro Colucci

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means,

electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the publisher.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7780352-0-3

 Electronic ISBN: 978-1-7780352-1-0

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

1. The Navale Academy - Day One

2. Whispers and Shadows

3. The Hall of Heroes

4. Her Voice Inside

5. Questions and Answers

6. To Alcor

7. Captain Farwell of the Hawks

8. Race to the Sky

9. The Replacement and the Recruit

10. Encouragement

11. A Night in the School

12. Plunkett's Repose

13. Stories of the Past

14. The Need for Allies

15. Demons in the Snow

16. The Moonlight

17. The Missing Craftwall

18. Dragon's Ale

19. Aurora

20. Secrets, Splinters and Needles

21. Yellow in the Gray Forest

22. Application of a School Theory

23. Fire in the Andalarian Sky

24. What Comes Next

25. Two Birds on a Hill

About the Author

Acknowledgements

There are so many people who have contributed to this book’s success and who have supported me every step of the way. There’s a lot of names, so apologies in advance if I miss a couple.

Jen, you and Shaun have always had my back from day one. Thank you for the support, advice and photo shoots. It’s rare to find friends who will cheer you on no matter what. You guys are amazing.

Laura, thanks for saving me a chair in your coffee shop where I wrote the first draft of this book. It’s come a long way since then and I’m grateful for your friendship and support. Noah, Miguel, and Raluca, thanks for being the best baristas ever.

Kim, my editor, I am so lucky to have found you. You have guided me and aided me in transforming this manuscript from a clunky kindergarten’s draft to a work of art I can be truly proud of. Here’s to more collaborations in the future.

Kat, the illustrator. Thanks for creating the look and feel for some characters and Jimmy’s logo. The logo, specifically. You have singlehandedly raised Jimmy Chartron up with the likes of Harry Potter and Percy Jackson. Wherever you are, I hope you are doing well.

Christine, Nathan, Germaine, Sarah, Marian, Jenny, and many more, thank you for buying the first copy of my book from years back. I know it wasn’t the best piece of work, but it was your support that means so much to this day.

Andrea, thank you for making my hair awesome for the photoshoots. Haircuts are often underrated, and really, one only pays attention to the hair when being stared down by a lens.

Sean, I promise that your character has a really cool arc. Too cool in fact, that I had to save it for book two. Thanks for being an awesome friend whether it be inside a cardboard compactor or in front of a work computer. Oh, and as per your advice, I have changed my pen name. Thank you for that.

Megan and Krista, I promise that your characters will see the light of day in book two. And yes, they will be shrinks… somewhat.

Alejandro Colucci, thank you for the wonderful cover art that will forever be burned into the minds of my readers. I am lucky to have crossed paths with you and I hope there will be more opportunities to work together in the years to come.

Amanda, thank you for creating some of the most detailed, beautiful character portraits I have ever seen. The world of Jimmy Chartron is bigger because of you.

Last but not least, thank you to Therese. I know you’re in a better place.

Prologue

Lightning tore across the dark clouds as Buldega hunched his way through the crowd of locals who congested the city square. The war ended months ago, but celebrations like this were still commonplace. Even the inclement weather did little to dampen spirits. In fact, Buldega noted, it seemed to have the opposite effect, instilling a greater boldness in the townspeople with every flash of the night sky. The crowds marched into the open space; a sense of pride and an overblown confidence swelled in their chests and bloated bellies. For all they cared, the Eight Countries could conquer anyone. They were invincible.

All the better for him.

Buldega tugged the hood of his cape around his face and jostled past a woman who was busy screaming the Eagleon anthem at the top of her lungs. His wet boots sloshed in the mud and sent smatterings of dirt flying about. Empty bottles of wine tumbled down the cobbled roads only to collect in the recesses between the dilapidated buildings.

Buldega turned a corner and kicked a few bottles out of his way.

He looked over one shoulder and then the other. The light from the bonfires blazed in the square and he lowered his head. It would be easy for someone to spot the scar that ran down his cheek from his left eye if he weren’t careful. He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter at the thought of being caught and did one last sweep of the area. Confident that all the locals were either indoors or out in the square celebrating, he rapped the door in front of him.

A shuffling of locks and chains followed the sound of creaking wood and the oaken door swung open.

Hurry, come in, a voice from inside whispered.

Buldega rushed into the darkened building and waited as his host closed the door and relocked the entrance.

Buldega pulled back his hood. Thank you for meeting me here.

The gentleman rubbed a lightstone to life and led the way downstairs. It’s why I have many places throughout the world, Buldega. Come. We’ll talk in the basement laboratory.

Elkas, no games. You said you had news for me. Buldega used a handkerchief to wipe the rain from his beard.

Elkas, a young fairy with pointed ears, sat at a desk and placed the lightstone onto a metal plate. I did. His sharp blue eyes belied a gentle nature, tinged with a wisdom uncommon to his attributed age. He gestured toward an empty seat.

Please, sit.

Buldega sat, the rain from his cloak dripping onto the surrounding floor.

The scholar tapped an apparatus on his desk that sent two stones levitating a short distance from a base before they began to orbit a central, larger element stone.

I made the calculations, Elkas began, his eyes focused on the apparatus. It will take nearly a full century before I can attempt it.

Buldega leaned forward. But it can be done, can’t it?

Elkas’s gaze did not deviate. Yes. It can. As I told you in my letter, the news is fair and ill.

Buldega heaved a sigh of relief and sank into his chair. Fair because it is possible; ill because it will take time. I doubt I’ll be alive when it’s ready.

No, you won’t. You can make sure someone is, though.

You’ll still be here?

I am not human, Elkas said, staring him in the eye. I can live for centuries. So long as you leave instructions for someone to search for me, the ritual can be performed.

Buldega leaned back and sighed. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

And, Elkas lifted a finger, I am removing myself from these lands.

What do you mean?

You know as well as I do that no one can discover this. If the secret were to be exposed, it would spell doom for you and for my people.

Buldega nodded and stroked his beard. There are whispers of a secret society in the works. Its goal is clear: to make sure no trace of what caused the war will ever be found.

A sly grin spread across Elkas’s long face. And this issue of ours will throw a wrinkle into their plans, won’t it?

It will. The secret the keystone holds has cost the lives of over fifty Aatolons already. Buldega laced his fingers together. So, tell me, where do you plan to hide?

I have yet to decide, but I will inform you when the time comes. The hard part is with you, old man. You—

A barrage of knocks from the first floor interrupted their conversation.

Buldega stood and drew his pistol. He moved toward the landing at the bottom of the stairs and crouched behind the railing.

Elkas dimmed the lightstone and unhooked his heavy coat from the wall. They’re here.

Buldega nodded. Then let’s go. He cocked his firearm.

The knocks grew more violent. Forceful demands to open the door seeped into the basement where Buldega lay in wait.

Follow me. Elkas gestured toward a rack of barrels propped against the wall. He walked over to one of them and pulled the lid to reveal the entrance to a tunnel.

Buldega smiled. Impressive.

My work pales in comparison to yours, Master Craftwall.

Elkas gave a slight bow.

The architect smiled and holstered his pistol. He entered the tunnel and began to crawl his way forward with Elkas following behind. After a few moments, they exited onto a narrow alley on the opposite side of the road.

Buldega pulled up his hood. It won’t be long before they discover our escape route. I trust you’ll be fine?

Elkas lifted his coat to reveal a scabbard housing a sharp dirk. They are nothing to me.

Buldega glimpsed the jewel-inlaid hilt. Dragon tooth?

Elkas nodded and covered the weapon. As I was saying before we were interrupted, the hard part lies with you. You must make sure that in a century from now, someone will bring the keystone to me.

Buldega looked on at the cloaked men who had just succeeded in bulling down Elkas’s door. They have no idea she’s right under their noses.

Can you do that, Craftwall? Elkas asked. Can you ensure that a century from now, someone will bear that responsibility?

Buldega stared deep into the scholar’s eyes. It will have to be someone both of us can trust.

Elkas turned to leave. The question is, who?

Chapter one

The Navale Academy - Day One

September 8, 1637 . Sixteen-year-old Jimmy Chartron repeated the date to himself as he ambled down a spacious hall on the second floor of the Navale Academy. Today was his first day of school. He stopped in front of a mirror hanging near the middle of the hall to double-check his appearance. His plain undecorated navy-blue vest hid most of the threadbare white shirt underneath. His golden-blond hair ran a little long, combed to the right with a few strands that dangled over his blue eyes. He smiled with excitement but quickly stopped when he noticed the overbite in his front row teeth. He double-checked the brown pants he wore didn’t have holes and continued his trek down the hall.

At last, he reached the room he was looking for and pushed open the door.

An empty blackboard with a glowing frame loomed over the other students who chatted and laughed with each other—at least most of them were. Jimmy kept his eyes pinned to the floor and weaved his way past the tables without bothering to introduce himself to anyone. A lone seat in the rightmost side of the class beside a large arching window caught his attention. He made his way to the spot, giving an awkward nod or wave to one or two of the boys and girls who noticed him.

Jimmy positioned his bookbag next to the wall and rested both arms on the desk. Excitement bubbled up inside of him, and he twiddled his thumbs, waiting for his first day of school to begin.

The clock’s hands were mere minutes away from eight o’clock.

Another minute of twiddling his thumbs passed before Jimmy reached down and grasped the flap of his bookbag, pulling it onto his lap. Papers … my pen, compass … wait, where is it? His eyes widened in shock and darted across the contents of his leather bag. I was sure I left it here. He fumbled inside his leather bag in the hope of coming across a letter-sized envelope with a red stamp on its front flap. Where’s my letter of acceptance? In one swift move, he dumped the contents of the bag into a pile on top of his desk, earning him a stare from more than one fellow in the classroom.

A drop of sweat beaded down his forehead as he pushed, turned, flipped, and tossed the random paraphernalia across the surface of his desk.

What’s he doing? a girl whispered two rows behind.

I honestly have no idea, her friend replied, sounding not at all interested.

Jimmy, ignoring the other teenagers’ odd looks at him, began to put things back into the bag while mentally calling out each object. He put the compass back in … compass. Then his notebooks went in … notebooks … wait! He pulled the two brown-covered notebooks back out and fanned the pages over his desk, hoping the envelope would fall out. Nothing. He put the notebooks into the bag … notebooks. Next, was a metal case and a couple of erasers … pen box and erasers. He tucked these into a side pocket located on the upper flap of his book bag.

Nothing else was left.

Blast! Jimmy cursed himself in his mind. He threw the book bag down and plopped into his chair. He began to scratch his head when he shifted his weight and heard a crinkle in his coat’s left pocket. Wait… did I? He shoved his hand into his pocket. There it is! He pulled out the crumpled envelope and re-read his acceptance letter:

To Jimmy Chartron:

It is with great pride that I announce your acceptance of enrollment into the

Navale Academy of Eagleon. Your first day at school will commence on September 8th.

Bring this letter with you as proof of your enrollment.

I look forward to seeing you in the fall.

Headmaster Dunan

The curious signature on the bottom no doubt belonged to the headmaster. It spelled ‘Dunan,’ but the stroke from the ‘n’ slid up before curving downward three times like a row of hills, each one shorter and lower than the next. Duh-nan? Doonan? Jimmy whispered as he tried to find the least awkward way of pronouncing the name. He settled on the latter, practicing a bit to shorten the sound when he said the nan part.

Doonan … he whispered again, satisfied with how it sounded.

CLICCCKKK!

The clock struck eight, and Jimmy placed the letter on his desk. He stared straight ahead. For some reason, he suffered a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach—nervousness, probably.

The whole class fell silent and turned around, face front, gazing toward the entrance to the classroom in silence. The mahogany boards on the floor creaked as footsteps down the hall drew near. Nervousness changed to curiosity on Jimmy’s part, and he found himself elevated from his seat as his body leaned forward across the table.

THOCK! THOCK! THOCK!

The headmaster’s footsteps moved into the classroom. He was a middle-aged gentleman, probably in his mid-forties, with a walk that reminded Jimmy of the tutors some of his friends used to have, specifically the square shoulders and measured steps.

The clean-shaven headmaster had brown hair combed slick to the back. A few wrinkles had settled underneath and around his hazel eyes. He wore a pair of black dress pants sporting faded, white stripes running from waist to ankles and a wide belt with a silver buckle. A brown vest covered his white, wing-tipped dress shirt that was left unbuttoned near the top. Over this, was a navy-blue frock coat with gold trims.

Jimmy watched as the headmaster took off his coat and surveyed the classroom.

Not knowing what to do in the silence that ensued, Jimmy decided to take a closer look at his classmates.

The first one Jimmy saw was a quiet fellow, hunched over his desk in the opposite corner of the room. The lonely boy wore a gray coat that seemed to make him even more broody than he perhaps already was. Jimmy saw his hands skillfully toying with a switchblade as his eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next.

A few seats past the brooding boy, and directly in the center of class was a brunette who had just finished arranging her hair for at least the tenth time since Jimmy walked into the classroom. Her white blouse had embroideries running along the left and right sleeves which signaled to Jimmy that she was from a privileged family.

Jimmy turned away and focused on two teenage boys, sitting exactly on the same row of chairs but each one on either side of the class rather than together. Yet, their eyes closed the distance between as they glanced each other with shrewd looks and tapped their pens occasionally from moment to moment. It was a code. They’re probably cheaters, Jimmy thought.

The headmaster cleared his throat. Class, he addressed them with a deep-set, serene voice, I am Headmaster Dunan, and I would like to congratulate you all on being accepted into the Navale Academy of Eagleon. He clasped both hands together.

It is a great honor for you to be here, but also a great responsibility. All of you will in one way or another leave this class. Some of you may fail, while others will succeed. Some may succeed because of their hard work, and others because of their intelligence. He paused a moment and his eyes shifted between the two teenage boys on either side of the classroom. Make no mistake, though, smart does not entail cheating, which will no doubt bring only grave consequences.

The two boys shifted their eyes from the headmaster’s gaze.

Let’s begin. Dunan lifted the gavel and slammed it on the table.

I’m sure all of you have brought your letters of acceptance?

Across the room, hands shot up holding the brown envelope and red seal. Jimmy saw the show of hands but simply held onto his envelope and waited for Dunan’s instructions.

Very good! Dunan grinned.

He began to walk through the classroom, collecting the letters while providing a small pamphlet to each student. What I am giving you is a list of the courses we offer at this academy. Take it to the school library and do some research on whatever course interests you before you make your choices.

He reached into his striped pants and yanked out a gold pocket watch. Once you have decided, mark your choices, write your name on the pamphlet and return it to me.

An excited murmur ran through the classroom as all the students began to get up and pack their things away. Clearly, no one had expected such a short class on their first day!

Ah! But you must all be back here an hour before four. Keep your eye on the clock and don’t get lost. The library is on the third floor; if you need help, feel free to ask any instructor you come across and they will be happy to assist.

The headmaster scanned the classroom one final time and slid the watch back into his pocket.

Jimmy swung his bookbag over his shoulder and followed the raucous crowd out the class and up the stairs to the third floor.

What a library it was!

Shelves that stretched all the way to the ceiling were lined with books of every sort. Numerous librarians with flowing robes levitated upon glowing blue stones that carried them to the desired shelf and section. Ribbons of large, square windows with ivory mullions lined the wall that faced the outside school grounds.

Jimmy stared in awe for a few moments and smiled.

The library felt like a second home.

For the rest of the day, he found himself going through history and science textbooks. Element alchemy as well, a topic he found fascinating but a bit beyond his mental grasp. What caught his eye, though, was the first edition of Farwell’s Theory on Electricity, to which he naturally took an interest. He read the first few pages, and for the next couple of hours, became engrossed in the book.

Finally, he brought it to the librarian at the check-out counter.

I’d like to borrow this book, Jimmy said.

Name? the woman asked as she whipped out a small, index-card.

Jimmy Chartron.

Class?

I don’t have one yet, but I’ll be taking the course on electricity.

Hmm … The lady stamped the card and deposited it into a huge, sorting machine. Be sure to bring it back in three months’ time. She turned around and thumbed through some paperwork.

Jimmy nodded and gleefully stuffed the book into his bag. There would be time to read it in the weeks to come. After all, he had as much time to study as he wanted, didn’t he?

Chapter two

Whispers and Shadows

Jimmy rushed down the entrance steps of the library. He was too engrossed in his book that he had forgotten to keep track of time. A clock’s ticking alerted him, and he glanced at the wall. Thirty minutes to four. He could still make it.

Jimmy gripped his bookbag tighter and began to descend the long stairway down to the second floor. His right hand clutched the balustrade leaving streaks of sweat in his wake. To make things worse, the traffic was worse than a four-carriage lane on a royal highway. By the halfway point, Jimmy was faced with students who pushed and pulled against each other like magnets with alternating polarities. Either school was off for some, or all of them were rushing to class like he was.

Peter, get over here! a girl cried, and a tall blonde boy with a stocky figure responded by bowling Jimmy into the wall and thundering up the stairs.

No, Anna. Get… Edmund, just go tell the professor I’ll be a bit late. And where’s Lucy? Hey. Wait up! another student cried.

My textbook! Has anyone seen my textbook? a girl cried.

Jimmy sighed and decided to do something risky. He hooked one leg over the banister and slid down the remainder of the way horseback-style. A chuckle or two escaped him as he caught the dumbfounded looks on the other teenagers. He hopped off the banister and started off into a run.

He headed down the deserted hallway toward his classroom when the sound of a rattling doorknob caught his attention. He stopped. Unintelligible whispers echoed around the walls. A doorknob rattled again.

Jimmy felt the curiosity well up in his chest. He moved forward in the direction of the whispers and observed the doorknobs that he passed by. The more he moved down the hall, the more pronounced the whispers became. Another rattling sound echoed, only this time it didn’t stop.

Jimmy’s eyes widened as he saw the door ahead to his left rattling like mad. It was as if the slab of wood was possessed and jumping up and down, ready to fly