Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening Read online

  Vincent raised his head with a sad look on his face. “I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

  “We’ll you’re going to have to when you give your report to the masters,” he reminded. “They’re going to want to know everything that happened.”

  “What I’d be more interested to know,” Rick interjected into the exchange while loosing none of his excitement, “is how he noticed them in the first place?”

  “It’s normally very quiet on the bottom floor outside the vault,” Vincent answered simply. “They just weren’t being nearly quiet enough with their footsteps.”

  “Hot damn!” Rick exclaimed. “Just like that! You caught them!”

  “Yeah, I caught them alright,” Vincent replied, feeling unenthused. He saw one of the healer women returning with a cup and a pitcher of water, and decided to seize upon the opportunity. “If you two don’t mind, I think I would like to get some more rest now.”

  She heard what he said and shared a look with the two of them. Karl concluded his remarks. “I know this must all be hard on you, but you can’t let it stop you from living.” He didn’t know the half of it, Vincent thought. “Get well soon.”

  “And quit feeling so bad,” Rick put in as they both started leaving, “you did your part and we’ll be back to see you again later.”

  Vincent nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  After they left, Arrendis came and approached him last while the healer lady poured him some water and gave him the cup. It was his way to let Vincent stand on his own with others while watching how he fared from afar, observing how his pupil performed without his interference. Vincent drank as he came closer, following his arrival with his eyes. Vincent wasn’t feeling so eager to see him. He felt like he had let him down and betrayed the faith he had placed in him as well as all his efforts on Vincent’s behalf, but he tried his best to put on a show for him.

  The healer woman departed as Arrendis approached him, his long white beard swaying against the front of his gray robes. The staff he walked with was a twisted, furled wood that curled into a coil at the top. It made an audible tapping sound as he slowly walked along. His flat glasses with circular lens gleamed once with the reflected sunlight in his face. Beneath the wide hood that was round, not pointy, at the top, his kind old blue eyes looked Vincent over carefully, seeming to wonder if he was alright. Arrendis almost never had a scowl or overly cold or serious expression on his face, and he appeared genuinely concerned.

  When he came, he asked in his weary voice how Vincent was, and Vincent amiably told him he was alright and should recover. Arrendis didn’t ask for specifics but instead told him that he was proud of him and that he defended the keep well. Vincent didn’t argue and simply agreed though he felt like the biggest liar in the world when he did. Arrendis wished him well and then left. After he was gone, Vincent lay back on his bed and brooded.

  Vincent felt horrible about everything, but Arrendis’ visit was the worst. He didn’t have the heart to tell him he had failed, that he had hesitated when it counted most. Arrendis, like everyone else, also knew nothing of Vincent’s unproductive wanderings, investigating and seeking anything that might be traced to those who were responsible for the deaths and disappearances of so many.

  Vincent wondered if the intruders in the keep were somehow connected with it but felt like a fool for having ever tried to find them by himself against everyone’s wishes. He was clearly no match for them. He had so much trouble with killing, absolutely abhorred it, and yet he had gone in search of them anyway. What would he have done had he found them out there? He probably would have been killed. The Seal of Cheated Light had kept him safer from them, but even then he still failed. What an idiot he had been. They not only eluded his grasp when he had searched, they had also dropped right in his hands, and he let them get away.

  Two different feelings threatened to rip him apart. One was his hatred of what he had done; the other was his anger and frustration, making him wish he had done more. Overall, he felt like simply quitting.

  He now firmly realized that his own magic had in fact been mediocre and ineffective compared to others this whole time, as was his ability to succeed without it, and he had just been deceiving himself. What was he to do now? He felt like he had wasted his life, like his life meant nothing, and a part of him wished he really had died down there.

  His anguish was compounded even further when he thought of Jessica again. No wonder she never seemed interested in him. Why should she? He was nobody. Nothing. A waste of space. He was not even fit to serve in a wizards’ keep such as this. Was he even really a wizard himself? Or just some freak occurrence, a person who happened to carry a tingle of magic?

  He would quit. That was what he had to do. He would go home to his parents, to the farming town in northeast Ryga where he was born, and be a farmer just like his father had wanted. His parents would miss him and would welcome him back. Unbearable as it was, he would have to do something else first before he left. He would have to say goodbye to Arrendis and thank him for all that he had done. He at least owed him that much. He didn’t have it in him to tell Karl and everyone else; he was far too ashamed. They would just have to hear it from Arrendis.

  He was also starting to realize that he hated his sword. What a waste his life had been: learning to use something so awful, to do something so awful, and he wasn’t even really needed. He hated all of it. As soon as they pronounced him able, he would leave the infirmary and leave Gadrale Keep. Forever. For now, he would rest and wait until he could.

  A healer woman came by later and he asked her how much longer he would have to remain. She told him that another day and night of rest should be enough. Then before she left again, he asked her to use her power on him to help him sleep since he didn’t think he could manage it. It was due to his own personal anguish, but he didn’t tell her that. He blamed it on the anxiety caused by his traumatic experience, which was partially true. She agreed to help him, and soon he fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter V

  Vincent awoke when he heard some unusual sounds: breathing, the stepping and scraping of shoes against stone, and a wet click. Perhaps it was only his restless and tormented mind that kept him from sleeping longer, but he awoke nonetheless. Everything was dark, and so he guessed that it was sometime during the middle of the night or early the next morning.

  He heard the sounds again. Immediately he tensed and could feel his pulse throbbing through his head. He held perfectly still, fearful of the possibility that the keep was facing another infiltration. He opened his eyes only a small crack and saw little since the infirmary was lit only by moonlight coming through the thin windows in the wall that were once killing slits. Thankfully, he saw no one directly near his bed though this was small comfort due to the fact that the intruders could become invisible.

  He was just about to roll out of his bed when he looked toward the left side of the room and discovered the source of the noises. A man and a woman that he couldn’t recognize were standing next to one of the infirmary beds in in the row across the room from him. They were holding each other in a tender embrace and were kissing passionately. The most he could tell was that each were wearing white, he white robes, and her a white dress. White was the color worn by healers. His hair appeared dark in this amount of light while hers appeared a lighter shade, possibly blonde.

  The two of them were not what he had feared, but he was shocked nonetheless. He immediately guessed that the lovers were here at this time of night because they wanted to keep the affair a secret. He didn’t know why this was. It could be that one or more was cheating on their intended. It was nighttime and the room was otherwise empty. Vincent was the only patient in the entire ward and was supposed to have been put asleep by magic. No wonder they thought this location would grant them the secrecy they desired.

  They didn’t know it had worn off.

  The man pulled her even closer and tighter against himself as they tasted each othe
r’s lips more intensely, caressing and feeling her back with his hands. She held his head close in one hand while holding and squeezing his shoulder with the other. The complete silence made their breathing seem fairly loud. Vincent continued to hold still, wondering just how much further they were going to take this.

  It wasn’t long before they parted just enough to begin taking off their clothes, having trouble keeping their lips separated long enough to do so. He pulled his white robes up over his head, revealing his bare back and strong muscles while she unbuttoned something in the back of her dress. It soon came off as well, exposing to the moonlight the fair smooth skin of her supple breasts, hourglass form, and pleasantly shaped legs. They set their clothes on top of a bed further left in Vincent’s view, and she lay her lush body down on the bed just right of that, raising one knee in the air. They hadn’t bothered to remove the covers and were going to commence directly on top of the bed.

  Vincent reasoned that he probably should have said something when he first saw them, and was regretting having not since now it seemed too late. He didn’t want to interrupt their love-making. He felt it was wrong to disturb upon their bliss, and kept perfectly still and quiet. It felt like the infirmary room, large and empty as it was, was starting to heat up.

  The man, whoever he was, got in between her legs on top and carefully inserted himself with the help of her hand to guide him in. Once the penetration was complete, he pulled closer and wrapped his arms around her back, using his elbows for support. She enfolded her arms around his neck and squeezed with her bare legs. They kissed while he moved back and forth within her, back and forth, making love on top of one of the infirmary beds. Their bodies were intertwined as one.

  Vincent felt his face flush red and thought that maybe he shouldn’t be watching this but was unable to make himself stop. He was too caught up in their passion. People making love wasn’t a bad thing, he supposed. In fact, it was actually beautiful, but meant to be private.

  Eventually though, he became less amused by the eroticism he was witnessing. It was intriguing at first, but amidst it all he was forced to think again of his own situation and everything that had happened. A lack of consciousness could no longer prevent it. The lovers in their embrace only reminded him that Jessica, the woman he was in love with, would most likely never be his, and he would never be able to share his love for her the way these two were sharing theirs.

  Vincent laid his head back again and closed his eyes, deciding to give them their privacy, but still had to endure the heavy, passionate breathing from both. Each were also verbally exulting their ecstasy in their own personal way as well. It went on for hours, and now that Vincent was awake, he found himself wishing that they would just finish so he could get up and be on his way. When he thought it had stopped, he would open his eyes again a crack to look, only to find them changing position to have the woman on top, riding him like a horse. These readjustments to different positions would happen periodically through the night and annoyed him each time since it always held the chance of it coming to an end.

  It was early summer, roughly the eleventh of June, and so the morning sunlight’s first rays were tinting the black nighttime sky a dark blue earlier and earlier in the day. When Vincent first noticed this happening, he knew they couldn’t be much longer. Shortly after when he opened his eyelids to a tiny slit again, when he thought they were changing positions, he saw that they were finally putting their clothes back on. The infirmary was often empty at night like this, and Vincent was getting the sense that these two perhaps came here regularly in his absence. He was just in their way. He was always in everyone’s way. It was just one more reason why he had to leave Gadrale behind.

  As soon as they were gone, he got up and sat on the right side of the bed, finding his own clothes, boots, and things still in the neatly folded pile not far from his feet. He stood and started changing out of the patient’s gown, glad to be putting them back on. Everything but the sword, anyway. They had been washed and dried and smelled of clean soap. Vincent felt much better now that he was free to move with at least some small semblance of dignity. Pulling his boots on his feet felt best of all yet also painfully reminded him of what he must do; he could not stay. He pulled on his dark blue cloak last, not bothering to pull up the hood.

  It was still quite early in the morning, and as much as he dreaded it, he still needed to pay a visit to Arrendis. It would be hours yet before the old man would even come awake. Vincent also suddenly realized that he was famished and should probably eat before he left on his long journey home. Since there was nothing better to do, he decided to go to the central dining hall. He would have to wait there too, but it was better than staying in the infirmary one moment longer.

  After navigating through stone hallways and down two flights of stairs, Vincent was finally on the bottom floor. As he walked through the hall leading toward the dining room, the area lit by light orbs attached to the ceiling, he looked toward the opening of the staircase leading down. It was the one leading downstairs through the many floors to finally reach the vault. The intruders must have passed through this very intersection.

  He smelt the slightest hint that something had been burning here. When he looked around, he noticed one tiny charred flake of black material sitting on the stone floor. Whoever had done the cleaning had missed it. Vincent’s stomach began to turn and he was losing his appetite. He walked on faster toward the dining hall as much to flee from the unpleasant thoughts as the smell. His hurried footsteps echoed on the stone.

  Shortly after, the hall opened up into the central dining room of the keep, empty as it was. Light orbs hovering high in the air near the ceiling kept the vast square-shaped room lit even at this early hour. Rows of wooden tables with long benches on the sides of each were lined up in more or less the same direction he was walking. At the far side of the room was a lengthy rectangular window opening into the kitchen area. The window was where food was normally distributed. Another window in the stone wall opened into an area where dishes were returned for washing. Both were empty; he was far too early and would have to wait. He pulled the scabbard of his accursed sword out of the way so he could sit down but kept it hanging near his leg so that it wouldn’t stick out in the aisle between the two rows of benches.

  Vincent leaned over the table, placing his elbows on top, and rested his face in his hands. He felt deeply disturbed that he had killed anyone and even more disheartened because he was somehow not fully up to the task. He wasn’t good enough at killing people, and that was what everyone expected him to be. If he remained, he would have to do better, be better, at such a morbid, terrible deed. He wanted no further part in it.

  He was wrong to have ever come here in the first place and saw that clearly now. So many years, so much time and effort, and it had all been for nothing. Vincent had no purpose for being; his life was without meaning. He tried to keep his composure and to keep his eyes from glistening since he knew that sooner or later people would be coming along. He didn’t want them to see how distraught he was.

  At first, only the cooking staff arrived. Vincent ignored them but could hear the banging of iron pots and pans and the clanking of silverware and dishes as they prepared to feed the entire keep its morning meal. Later on, some of the earliest risers came, and one or two began to form a line to wait. Vincent reluctantly rose from his seat and took his place behind them. It wasn’t long before more people filed in behind him, and the food was finally being served. A few of the staff placed stacks of wooden plates on a table to the side of the window last, seemingly so that they would be taken now that the cooks deemed the first batch of food ready.

  Vincent took one of the wooden plates and forks when the line progressed and moved along to where the food was being given out. There wasn’t much choice this morning. It was just some scrambled eggs, a few pieces of bacon, and a bun. The serving persons dispensed each on each person’s plate by just slopping it on. Vincent thanked them and then went to go si
t back down.

  He ate not seeming to care so much about what he was eating or how it tasted, wanting only to get it over with so he would be not hungry. He had unpleasant business to take care of, and this was nothing more than a trivial obstacle to it. How he would make himself do what had to be done, he didn’t know. He only knew that he had to.

  When he was a boy living in northeastern Ryga, Arrendis was the wizard who had visited his shabby farming village to test the children to see if they were gifted. It was a simple test in which they were each given a daisy and urged to concentrate on it heavily and will their magic into it to do anything they liked. It didn’t matter what they wanted to have happen; if they had magic, something would, even if it was not what they intended.

  Vincent’s daisy had blackened and wilted. He was worried because he had been trying to make it become red like a rose. Master Arrendis told him that it was alright, that he was gifted. Vincent asked him what his gift was. He didn’t have an answer. He told Vincent that if his gift was for pyromancy, the flower would have burst into flames. If it was for botanical magic, he might very well have changed the flower’s color. He had produced an unexpected result that made identification difficult. Vincent was slightly older than his cousin, and so at the time he was the only gifted child in town; Karl wasn’t recruited until later.

  When Arrendis had discussed with Vincent’s parents the prospect of taking Vincent to Gadrale Keep so that he might train to become a wizard, they were both shocked. His father had refused, but his mother later convinced him to agree to it because they were poor and it gave Vincent a chance at a better life.

  He was brought here. The fortress and its surrounding campus was the most impressive place he had ever been. It struck him with awe. Arrendis ran further tests to see what his gift was for. Nothing worked. They found out later only by accident. Right after Arrendis had him try to focus his magic several times to no avail, Vincent became frustrated while he continued sitting at the table. Idly, he reached over and with his finger traced the designs on the metal candle holder. It began to glow a bright red.