Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (7 page)

Stacy was a talented and close student of Anthony’s who had long lovely brown hair, pretty blue eyes, and proudly wore a blue dress that signified her atmomantic calling. Her temperament was that of a hardworking scholar, yet she was never afraid to lend a helping hand to others who had trouble understanding. She often but not always looked at the endeavor, even assisting in some of the research, as an interesting challenge rather than an annoyance. Nevertheless, Vincent felt surprised and touched that she had come, and he knew right away that the recent events had given him much to look into that he might normally consider seeking her help for. If…he didn’t even know if he really wanted to stay, but if he did, he would certainly need her help now more than ever.

His cousin, Karl, was only just over a year younger than he and wore the green robes tied to geomancy, a gift Vincent would have been glad to have been born with involving levitation, manipulation, and control of earth materials, even sometimes infusing it with life to create elementals, beings made of rock and other substances. Geomancers even had some control over water. He had once heard that his own gift, a control over metal, was thought by some to be a genetic offshoot of geomancy that only occurred randomly and was thus quite rare. The gift of magic was largely hereditary, and so he guessed this made sense since they were related.

Lucky or not though, Vincent was stuck with what he had, and neither he nor Karl seemed to care much about the differences between their two abilities; it was simply a part of who they were. Karl’s blond hair was thick and full, and hung down to is shoulders, another contrast between them as Vincent’s was shorter and black. His eyes were a lighter shade of brown than Vincent’s and looked on warmly with a smile at knowing that he was alright. Both he and Stacy clapped quietly with Rick’s cheering while Rick put his thumb and first finger to his lips and blew with a loud, shrill whistle. Vincent could never understand how some people were able to do that but was grateful for the gesture amidst his own burgeoning despair.

He noticed that those who he knew had no respect for him were not present. It didn’t bother him in the least since he didn’t feel much like seeing them either. To his dismay, there was one face in the crowd that he searched for and didn’t find: the face of Jessica. Why wasn’t she here? Did she not care? Perhaps she didn’t know he had awoken. He was also certain she didn’t know that he secretly desired her heart. He let her absence go for the moment. It wasn’t as though he was about to surprise her by bringing back her brother Harold anyway.

He had learned about Harold’s disappearance when he found Jessica in the gardens, crying. Her head was hung low and her long dark hair was draped down across her face while she picked at the dirt with her shovel. He cautiously walked toward her. Her hands stopped. It wasn’t easy to ask her why she was so distraught, so he couldn’t make himself do it right away. He didn’t think she would answer him, but she did. His eyes went wide when he realized that the unknown menace had struck again. He moved closer to her. Tentatively, he pushed some of her long black hair out of the way with the back of his fingers and drew her to him. She hugged him and held on while the sobs took her.

It had torn his heart out to see her like that. Vincent would have done anything to take away the pain she felt. Vincent would have done anything for her period. Though it wasn’t his place and though he said nothing else to her that day, he had made up his mind. Seeing her so upset was enough for him. He was going to rescue Harold for her. He wasn’t an officially sanctioned investigator: he was just a private individual. And the task was more than dangerous. If Jessica knew what he had planned, she would have tried to stop him. She wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t leave Harold to his fate, and he couldn’t stand to see the woman he loved suffer. He was going to rescue Harold for her.

Memories of this search or of visiting her in the gardens seemed distorted or drowned into insignificance somehow, like a childish dream crushed by the weight of a cruel and devastating new reality: that he was a murderer
and
a failure. Despair took him. He felt like he couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t find her brother. He couldn’t protect the vault. He stared down at his clean hands and imagined them covered in blood.

He had killed.

Different feelings conflicted within him. At once he was sad that she hadn’t come, and yet he was also grateful for it. Right now he felt so much shame and revulsion toward himself, at what he had done and at what he had failed to do, that he didn’t feel like seeing anyone.

He looked at those gathered and forced a small joyless smile on his face so as to hide it. As much as he appreciated the shower of support from his visitors, it still came as a great shock to him and felt misplaced. He had failed. Worse yet, he didn’t feel like the necessary acts of violence he had committed, or had failed to commit, were something worth celebrating.

When the clapping died down, Masters Clemens and Anthony continued to look on at Vincent while Grandmaster Treyfon addressed the crowd in his grating voice, looking around with his pointy Elf eyes as he spoke. “It has been many generations since one of our own has needed to place their life on the line to fight in defense of Gadrale Keep and all that it stands for: peace and cooperation between the lands.” He looked back to Vincent. “You have succeeded in staying alert and steadfast where others might have overlooked a serious threat. The Seal of Cheated Light is not something easy to notice.” His face took on an expression of dismay and regret. “And as I understand it from what Master Clemens has told me,”-he and Clemens glanced at each other from the corner of their eyes-“you were serving beyond the call of duty by continuing to stand guard two shifts beyond your own, protecting The Crafter’s Vault when both replacements failed to relieve you.”

Seeming to know what he was going to say next, the crowd took on a more somber appearance, and many stared at the ground. “It comes as an even greater disappointment that while two of our pupils were neglecting their sworn duties, another, whose name I won’t mention, had betrayed us to join the attackers and fell by your hand during the assault. This is deeply unsettling to us all and feels an even deeper wound than the theft that took place.” He looked off distantly while thinking. “Thankfully, the artifact stolen was of little importance.”

Vincent felt guilt and shame coursing through him worse than at any other time in his life; that the object was less valuable didn’t seem to matter. For all he knew, Treyfon had merely said that to be kind. Treyfon stood quietly for a few moments and then came out of his thoughts, seeming to remember where he was and what he was doing. His distant expression faded as he held up a hand to gesture toward Vincent. “Despite your unusual gift, which has been the subject of much controversy over the years, you have through your deeds proven yourself as true a member of the Academy Guard as any. Even better still, you are fortunate enough to have miraculously survived by the most hair-slim of chances. We give you our thanks and congratulate you on your efforts.” Everyone began clapping again.

So that was it, Vincent thought, just minor recognition for the now rare event of having fought for the keep at all-and for not having died. No mention of a possible tie between the intruders and the unexplained deaths and disappearances. No reprimand, no being called in to account for his actions, nothing. Then again, no one had been there to see him hesitate. No one knew of his guilty conscience. Or the horror of what it had been like to slice people apart and kill them. Having never killed anyone before, they couldn’t understand what it was like. How could they? If he had known ahead of time, he didn’t think he would have ever come here. The experience was making him rethink his life entirely: he felt very distraught and disillusioned.

As Grandmaster Treyfon had said, their institution was dedicated to preserving the peace and to stopping wars from happening in the first place, not to fighting in them, though they sometimes had to fight to make this so. Ryga was the home country of Gadrale Keep and its nearby city, but the mage academy was international in its scope and membership, truly a symbol of peaceful exchange and cooperation. All the lands represented in the student and instructor rosters contributed to the upkeep of the campus, shoring up what King Glidewell readily provided. It was a place where people from different races and lands all came to learn and share what they knew, thus maintaining a balance of power while fostering mutual awareness and respect at the same time. Vincent hated violence and appreciated the academy because of its firm belief that it was only to be used as a last resort. He felt a new distaste for himself for not honestly knowing the answer to whether or not he was cut out to pursue their noble cause.

As soon as the applause once again ceased, Master Anthony this time gently spoke to him without raising his voice for the crowd. “Whenever you’re feeling up to it, we would like a small audience with you to hear a report on the matter,”-Vincent suddenly felt intimidated but tried not to let it show-“we know you can’t tell us much since the thieves were mostly invisible at the time, but any small detail might be important.”

“I’ll try my best, master,” Vincent replied, feeling even more terrible. The whole affair was bad enough; the idea of having to recount it to the masters, including all his shortcomings, seemed even worse.

“That’s all we ask,” he replied kindly. After sharing a brief look, both he and Treyfon turned toward Vincent’s right and began walking out of the infirmary.

Perhaps because of this, one of the healers at his side decided to cut the visit short, and he found himself feeling grateful for it. “Okay, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you all to leave now. He still needs to recover from his injuries. We’ll allow a few friends or relatives to stay a little longer if you keep it short. Everyone else please leave.”

As they all started shuffling out of the infirmary, Rick, Karl, and Stacy walked toward him but stopped a few steps further back and waited their turn while Master Crafter Clemens moved next to the right side of his bed. The healer lady stepped out of the way. An acrid smell of the forge greeted Vincent’s nostrils. Clemens held his filthy, grime-stained hand up for Vincent to shake, and when Vincent raised his, he took it and shook vigorously with a tight grip. Vincent’s supervisor normally gave a firm handshake, but this time he was squeezing so hard it was hurting Vincent’s hand. Vincent hid the pain.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” he said in his strong voice, continuing to shake Vincent’s hand up and down quickly. “You were outstanding!” He slapped the side of Vincent’s right shoulder once and then finally let go of his hand. “Vault guard duty is serious business. Most people don’t see it as such because of the harsh spells on the door, but there’s no lock a clever man can’t pick as I always say. It’s usually impossible for me to find people to stand watch over the door; most have to be assigned by force since no one wants to do it. When we met, you came to me as the first person to ever actually seek the position, and I have never been more pleased that you did.”

Vincent knew what he was talking about. When he returned to Gadrale from his training in the army, there were few opportunities for service within the keep; at least few opportunities for someone like him, whom everyone considered the same as any soldier. Arrendis had assisted him in perusing the rosters to find something that was within his means to do. The list of open positions within the Academy Guard had been short.

“Thank you, master,” Vincent said politely. Shame at his failure to prove himself, much less prevent the break-in, kept him from feeling touched. “I’m not so sure when I’ll be able to return to my post. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Dedicated to the end,” he remarked deeply under his breath. “Don’t worry about your duties while you’re healing. I’m having Stan and Craig serve extra shifts to fill the vacancy. During a talk with them the other day in my office, I gave them some additional incentives to start being as unwavering as you.”

Vincent didn’t ask what they were. Even though he was angry at them for leaving him up that night, if they hadn’t, one of them would have been there when it happened. He didn’t wish what he had just experienced on anyone, not even them.

Vincent looked down while idly rubbing at some of the dirt on his right hand with a thumb from the other. “They are just boys,” he said, “but I would have thought that after what they went through during their last punishment, they wouldn’t have skipped out again. They’ve been diligent at reporting-in all this time since.” Vincent looked up slowly with a confused expression. “I’m afraid I don’t understand it.”

Master Clemens kept his voice down and looked on at Vincent with stern brown eyes; the subject was clearly agitating him. “Those rats say they were spying on some strange people in the woods outside the city, yet others claimed they saw them just outside their quarters during the search for the intruder. It sounds like just another fanciful story like the one they made up last time. They’ll say anything to get out of trouble.” Vincent wasn’t so sure it was a lie this time and wondered what they claimed to have seen but didn’t say so. He also couldn’t be sure it was true either. They had been untrustworthy and unreliable in the past, and his desire for such information on the strange happenings could be clouding his judgment.

“I’m sick to death of their excuses,” Master Clemens continued irately, “being boys doesn’t excuse them. They’re fifteen and sixteen years old, and it’s time they started acting like men. I told them that I’m going to randomly drop by to see if they are still standing guard. If one of them isn’t when he’s supposed to be, I’m going to put in a request before the rest of the council that he be expelled from the academy. I think they got my drift and will serve well or not at all.”