Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (32 page)

He glanced toward his two guards before walking across the aisle to check on Stacy. She looked to have been cleaned up as well. Her face remained pale, and she was still sleeping. “How is she,
really?” He asked.

The blonde healer answered but didn’t turn to look his way. “She lost a lot of blood during…whatever it was you were out doing. We’ve stabilized her. She just needs some time to recover.” She paused a moment, still not looking his way, and kept her tone formal. “You better go with those two before they get anxious.”

Vincent understood her subtle meaning and said nothing when he walked away toward the door. His escort was silent when he reached the doorway, and they walked on either side of him after he emerged into the hall. The positioning however, did not deceive him at all; it was clear to him that they were to lead the way.

They took him down several floors to the dining hall and through it to an adjacent hallway running right of the entrance. Eventually they turned and took him through the stairway entry to another set of sublevels not connected with the main series that Vincent was familiar with. Light orbs set inside openings in the walls covered by protective grates lined the stairs, providing enough light to see by yet still kept things darker than was comfortable. Together with the two wizards escorting him, he descended another three floors until they arrived at the penitentiary.

It consisted of a main room and a long connecting hallway, each of which were also poorly lit in the same manner as the stairs above. His guards passed through the outer room with him, ignoring the jailor and soldiers in it, all of whom watched in silent and apprehensive curiosity. It was clear to them that this was wizard business, that they had no say in it, and he was not
their
prisoner.

Magi disciplined their own.

The gray stone hallway they took him down had many corridors
branching off from it on its sides, each leading to a an iron bar door with a slit at the bottom for passing through food. He was taken to the very end of the hall and ushered inside one on the left that already had its gate open. He turned around and watched them slam it shut, deciding that now before they left would be the best time to break the silence.

“Why am I being detained?”

The two mages stopped from turning around and looked back at him. The atmomancer with the iron staff answered him. “For abandoning your post.”

As a sworn member of the Academy Guard, this was a grievous offense. Junior members like Stan and Craig had gotten off easier, but it was different for Vincent. He was a full fledged member, not an adolescent training toward the position. He was expected to be more responsible and was going to be held to a higher standard.

Vincent looked down. “I see,” he replied dismally. He looked up. “Is the council aware of the extraordinary circumstances under which I took this action?”

The botanical mage asserted himself next. “It doesn’t matter. Your transgression carries an immediate punitive sentence. The masters will convene to determine what further punishment you shall receive.”

And with that, they turned and left him there, alone in his dark cell.

Vincent should have expected this. It was the consequence of the hard choice he had made the other night. As a guard, what he had done was unforgivable, even though he had had good reason. It endangered what little status he held at the keep, and he knew that sooner or later everything else he had been involved with would have to come out as well. There was no way he could hide it now and, it seemed, no further justification for doing so. This was far too large for he and his friends to deal with on their own; unsympathetic or not, the council needed to know about it.

The thought struck him that maybe they already did, at least in part. How else would they know or infer that he specifically chose to be in dereliction of duty? Karl must have told them much of what had taken place, and it was clear that they were not pleased with what he had done. Even if he hadn’t, they would have found out about his dereliction anyway.

There was no bench in his cell and no privy. It had been cleaned up since its last use yet could easily become a stinking cesspool again when occupied for any duration. Only one light orb protected by a grate sat in the wall outside. He hoped he would not be here for long. Gadrale’s detention facility was small, and as he noted earlier, empty. Since the fortress was originally intended to hold off Orc incursions, it was not designed for holding many prisoners. The detention area’s primary use was for enforcing discipline within their own ranks.

He crouched down and sat against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees. The pains of hunger began to sear his stomach. He wished he had said something to the guards when they passed the dining area or at least made some mention after he had been confined. Now food would not be brought to him until much later, whenever someone remembered or deemed it necessary.

Alone with his own thoughts, he began to drown in the silence. Time had no meaning. He could not even tell if it was night or day. Eventually, someone brought him a plate of scraps from the kitchen and slid it under the slot. Not caring about the quality, he ate all of it in earnest. It hadn’t even come with a fork. He used his hands.

Later on, pure exhaustion forced him to sleep, and he did it sitting down in his earlier position since the cold stone floor was much too hard to lay on. The next day, at least he thought it was the next day, saw little improvement. He sat bored, wondering his fate until finally he heard footsteps coming down the hall. It wasn’t yet time for his meal.

When the person finally came around the corner to his hall, Vincent noticed the green robes against the poor lighting and realized it was Karl. His cousin was quiet on his approach and had a serious expression on his face without a single trace of mirth. Shoulder length blond hair jostled slightly as he walked. He carried some sort of dark blue bundle in his right hand, and his wide, flat rock tucked under the other. Vincent stood and went to the door.

“Alright I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” he began. “The good news is that I told the masters what happened…”

“I noticed.”

Karl took immediate note of the reference and continued on. “Yeah, well anyway they’re launching a full investigation into all of it, and yesterday they had me guide a large team of people to the site where we fought with the cult. Everything was there including the cauldron, but it had been knocked over and the rain washed everything away,” a quiet growl escaped Karl’s lips, “they weren’t able to tell what the liquid inside was, there wasn’t enough left.” His eyes lowered. “Stan and Craig’s bodies were brought back, and there’s going to be a memorial service scheduled next week.” He looked back up. “I think things are going to be different from now on. The masters aren’t pleased with what we’ve done, but it has grabbed their attention. The four of us won’t have to go on alone anymore.”

“Has there been any sign of Rick?” Vincent asked.

“That’s the other good news. He finally came back today. Apparently he got lost in the woods after we split up.”

“And Stacy, is she better?”

“I just visited her. They say she should be able to testify soon.”

“Good.” Vincent dreaded doing so, but had to ask. “And what’s the bad news?”

Karl looked down and took a deep breath, then he spoke slowly, seeming to want to let Vincent down easy. “Well, the council is going to be interviewing us, once they can get us all together, that’s not so bad I guess. The bad news is…umm…” he looked up at Vincent right in the eyes, lowering his voice, “…you’re going to be brought up on several disciplinary charges, and they’re going to keep you imprisoned here until you’ve been absolved.”

“‘Charges?’” Vincent repeated. “I thought I was only facing one.”

“They’re also holding you responsible for endangering Stan and Craig. And for your unauthorized activities. And for withholding information.”

Vincent buried his face in his right hand while holding a bar of the gate with his left. “It’s just as that bastard, Clyde…”

“
General Clyde
,” Karl corrected sardonically, “he styles himself a
general
, remember?”

Vincent nodded gloomily, removing the hand from his face. “He foretold that he ‘would be comforted to know that the authorities would be holding me responsible.’ Neither of us have been accused of murdering them like he wanted, yet I’m still locked up in here.” He let out a sigh, the sad expression remaining on his face. “Am I ever going to be released?”

Karl was silent for several moments. “Your incarceration is absurd. What happened wasn’t your fault. Believe me, I tried telling that to the masters many times…”

“I know this isn’t your doing, Karl.”

“…but they’re still holding you answerable for this tragedy.”

Vincent scrunched his face up, feeling his irritation rise. “Why are they worrying so much about me!” He protested. “There’s a fanatical cult out there that has become a heavily armed menace!”

“If anyone needs a lesson in responsibility, I think it’s them.” Karl’s face took an angry set. “It seems almost like they’re locking you up in order to hide their own incompetence. I better go back. Someone has to try to make them see reason.” He handed the blue bundle to Vincent, and when he unwrapped it, he was surprised to find that it was his dark blue cloak. The one that he had torn off and thrown in the mud during the battle; it had been cleaned.

“Thank you.”

Karl nodded slightly while his eyes stared off in thought, and then left, his arm carrying the rock swaying in a way that was barely noticeable.

Vincent put on his cloak. wrapped himself in it, and remained standing, starting to tire of the stiffness that sitting caused. Eventually though, he had no choice. At least the cloak kept him warmer when he sat; perhaps the coming night would be less uncomfortable because of it. There was little solace for him in that. Even so, right now he had to grasp for every shred he could find.

* * *

Jessica grabbed hold of a stubborn weed and pulled tersely, and then on another, a spotted knapweed in its infancy, and another, venting her frustration with each pull. What was he doing! She thought angrily, beating dirt clumps off the roots and tossing the bundle aside. To her knowledge, this was by far the most reckless thing he had ever done. She had known him, as a friend, for nearly two years from talking to him while she worked in the gardens, and she never would have guessed this of him. He had always been kind and sweet, a considerate person who would never have let something like this happen. The way in which he returned, seeming barely alive, was bad enough to make her heart stop, but what she had learned about his actions that led to it was even worse.

Apparently he had decided to hunt down the thieves responsible for the attack on the vault, all by himself without hardly telling anyone about it. Just a few friends that he managed to drag along, including that wretched Stacy and two unfortunate boys, junior members of the Academy Guard. He had put them in harm’s way, and they had paid the ultimate price for it. How could he!

Jessica’s eyes glistened, and a tear fell in the dirt beneath her.

As she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, her feelings once again shifted toward anger. There was talk of treason. People said he had abandoned his post, disobeyed orders, and withheld critical information about the criminals from the masters. Right now he was in a prison cell, awaiting trial. It would serve him right, she thought bitterly through more tears, if they did keep him locked up for the rest of his life. For reasons she didn’t know, she kept feeling an even deeper pain cut through her whenever she thought bad things about him. Ugh! Why was she thinking about him at all! She couldn’t get him out of her head, even though she had no business worrying about him. And as for being his friend…she didn’t think she wanted him as a friend anymore. A hollow sadness overtook her as her thoughts kept going in circles. Why, Vincent? Why did you do it?

More tears fell as she searched in and around the flowers and trees for more weeds, the drops falling to the ground reminded her that it was time for water. Certain plants were never happy unless kept moist. Not wanting to be seen like this should someone be passing through, Jessica wiped her eyes before returning to the path on her way to the well. She kept her gaze down as she walked, out of sorrow and frustration and to try to hide her still partially wet eyes.

Near a turn in the path and before she could see, Jessica looked up only as she collided with a hooded figure in gray robes. There was a staff in his hand and a white beard hanging in front. It was the old wizard who was a teacher of children, one whom had instructed many in the early stages of their learning, including herself.

Arrendis.

“I think, young lady,” he said as he caught and began readjusting his circular lenses back to their former position, “that the two of us need to relearn an old lesson about paying attention to where we’re going.”

Anger made her speak without thinking. “Yes, someone should teach us how to make wise decisions. Clearly such things couldn’t be learned from you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s an embarrassment to the whole keep! You taught him! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You took him under your wing!” She pointed at the old wizard. “He was under
your
personal tutelage! And look what happened!”