Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (4 page)

Chapter
III

F
inding the path out was much easier than finding the way in. His injured companion had left a dotted trail of red from his legs. He avoided stepping on them. The man’s incompetence was going to show any investigators the way to the exact room they had visited, but it was also making exiting The Crafters’ Vault quite simple.

Since there was nothing the fools could do even if they did discover the room he had stolen from, he put any resulting consequence out of his mind. Their progress getting out was effortless for now, but that would be where the helpfulness of the bleeding would end. A trail marking his escape route was not something he needed, and he didn’t have time to stop and tie off his friend’s wounded legs with torn off strips of cloth either. He didn’t even suggest it, nor did his fellow remember to think of doing so. The Seal of Cheated Light only lasted so long, and they had to get out of the fortress before its time expired. Sooner or later, his fellow would simply have to be dealt with before he became a liability.

With their loot in hand, the two intruders moved back toward the door’s opening. The gold disc was still extended into the open hall. It was now a matter of making their way out of the fortress and the surrounding campus without being detected by any more of the Academy Guard: deadly wolves who would undoubtedly catch their scent. The first of which had caused them too much trouble already. They were in no condition to fight and needed to escape with the talisman. For now, it was kept concealed by physical contact with his spell, as were his clothes, but getting out still wasn’t going to be easy. There would be a constant urge to run. He controlled this impulse within him and continued to help his injured colleague walk along, the spell near his legs continuing to flicker and falter.

Out in the hallway, they kept moving steadily without concern for whether or not someone might hear the soft echoes and scraping of their footsteps. Everything looked much the same as it had before. The light orb at the top of the ceiling still bore mute witness to the carnage below as it cast its white glow over the floor and walls, the bodies, and the pools of blood. The scent of the red puddles mixed with the stagnant and damp smelling air.

They walked past the stubborn swordsman whose unexpectedly skillful opposition had caused them so much woe, being careful to avoid stepping in the splatter of blood that came from his mouth not long after he landed. He was laying on his back with bruises all over his face, and blood continuing to flow out of his nose and down the sides of his mouth, forming in a pool and soaking his hair. His wretched, menacing sword was still clutched in his right hand, his knife in his left. Both remained bathed in crimson from the encounter but with small stretches of shiny metal where the fluid had drained to other portions. Certain that this man was now deceased, they ignored him and continued moving forward.

Next they passed by the severed gore of the first of them to fall to that guard. Although his guts lay strewn about motionlessly, the blood that had spilt from his remains continued to spread on the stone floor. A third smell had been added to the already revolting concoction: the smell of sliced viscera and internal fecal matter. He could feel the nauseating taste in his own mouth of added saliva much like what one had just prior to vomiting.

The disgusting appearance and stench of the remains drove them on even faster, and all was silent except for the sound of their ragged breathing. Such a waste. He should have been more careful than to walk right up to that guard. The trackers built into the door would have done the job for them. He and his limping fellow skirted the mess to avoid stepping in any of it.

They passed Jeanette last, whose corpse still lay with its back and head partially propped up by the wall. She seemed to be sliding down against it at a visible, yet infinitesimally small rate. Her face was pale, and her dead blue eyes stared vacantly at where the swordsman had been just before she had thrown him. Blood from the deep horizontal slice in her torso, just under her breasts, had spilled out to cover the front of her black clothes and then to drip and settle in a large pool where it continued to spread underneath where she lay. He stopped helping his companion long enough to move closer and use his fingers to close her eyes, giving her death at least some semblance of dignity. A faint scent of perfume masked other odors in the hall, for which he was grateful. Such a waste.

The two continued moving through the hall and exited on the other end, taking a right at the split intersection. They walked along as quickly as they could, caring far less about silence than speed since they knew they wouldn’t encounter anyone else for a while. His injured companion’s wounded legs continued to falter and fluctuate, revealing his black pants and bloody cuts amidst the thin air. Some blood dripped on the stone floor as they walked along, leaving a trail.

He contemplated how best to dispose of him so he could make an easier escape. He hadn’t told him yet that his part in their carefully planned theft was clearly over. He was useless to him now and nothing more than a hindrance. He thought of merely leaving him behind and running ahead, but he didn’t want to risk his colleague shouting out and alerting others out of spite, nor did he want him to be captured and reveal any information about their plans. For now, he would merely help him along until an opportunity presented itself to get rid of him.

The structure of the bottom floor of the keep went in a long winding loop down the hallway they now traversed. Their footfalls echoed faintly on the stone beneath them. Light orbs spaced at even intervals along the ceiling revealed the wide hall. In the deep stone recesses, the air smelt of rot, but it was a comfort compared to what they had left behind. The path turned right at a corner and continued on for another long stretch. They turned right at yet another corner after that and then eventually entered a massive stairway in the center of the next stretch of wall on the left. There was a slight scratching sound as their feet anxiously scraped along while they made their ascent, proceeding as quickly as they could up the steps.

When they got to the floor above, the layout became different. A straight hall led for a good distance to the next set of stairs on the opposite side. Several open doorways to their right were cut into the stone wall, revealing a vast and enormous chamber densely packed with a wide array of rows upon rows of immensely tall bookshelves. The odor had changed from a damp, cool smell of decay to the dry, musty smell of old paper, parchment and wood.

The ceiling inside was high enough to accommodate the shelves but only barely, and light orbs illuminated the gaps between each one. By what means the shelves were held in place, regardless of whether they were leaned against walls or standing in the open, he didn’t know. Each shelf was so tall that it seemed absurd that it didn’t fall over. All but the ones against the walls had no backs to them, allowing one to see through to the other side. Books at the top could only be reached by either using mobile wooden-stair platforms with wheels on their bottoms, ladders, or by levitation of the desired volumes.

In the less tightly packed sections where there was more room between bookshelves, there were tables and chairs for study. A smaller light orb hovered several feet in the air above each table, scantly bobbing up and down an inch or two from their positions, though by no means in unison with the others, and provided enough light for reading. This deep library housed the more advanced texts for instruction though none which were magically dangerous in and of themselves were kept here. Those were held in the vault.

Now that they had what they wanted, it seemed like they just couldn’t get out fast enough, like the keep was almost sucking them in to prevent them from leaving. Even though it was still kept invisible by his touch, the quill pen in his hand felt like a red flag that gave immediate testament to their violation of The Crafters’ Vault, justifying their immediate destruction.

They bounded quickly up the next set of stairs, which turned around to face the opposite direction once with only one stairway landing in between. Their steps and their slightly quick breath echoed as they passed through the enclosure. Upon emerging at the top, another hallway went off to their left. This floor was another library level, and the same stale air greeted them. They ignored the area as they hurried onward to make their escape. The floor above that, was also another library section. Gadrale seemed to hold more books inside the keep and elsewhere than there were people, including the outside city.

A right turn at the corner end of the hallway followed by another took them to the next staircase going up. Soon they were on the floor that was second below ground level. It was arranged differently, and was little more than an access hallway with closed doors that granted entry to the vast and deep chambers of the external basement level to each side.

The chamber that the doors on their left entered was the way they had come in and the most ideal place for them to get out, yet they couldn’t. Past the doors, ramps would lead up through the lower recesses of the basement to the external shafts. Though he said nothing to the other, he felt his anger and frustration mount since he knew that they couldn’t go this way now. His friend’s appearing and disappearing leg prevented it. Very few people, if anyone, would be standing guard in those vast empty, and ramped storage areas but only because they didn’t need to. The geomancers left their elementals, creatures with arms and legs who were made entirely out of rock, to stand about and guard the area. With the wounded legs occasionally flickering and showing their existence, there was no getting past them. Neither one of them even thought to try; they just kept going toward the next set of stairs, the way normally used for entering or leaving these lower levels.

His fellow had just cost him a direct escape. He couldn’t dispose of him with magic, that would only destroy his own spell shroud. If only he had a knife, he thought, if only he had a knife. The insufferable dead guard on the bottom floor had one, but he was not going all the way back down for it. Probably still clenched too tightly in the bastard’s cold, lifeless hand. Somehow he knew that it would be.

Each new floor from that point on that they approached had to be done so with caution. Their elaborately contrived plan had originally sought to bypass these levels entirely in order to avoid as many wizards as possible. At the time, the one on the bottom floor was thought to be of no consequence. They hadn’t anticipated having to risk running into more wolves on the upper levels. Their error of misjudging his strength had cost them far too much.

Holding their breath to mask any noise, they peered past the edge of the stairway leading to the first floor below ground level. Seeing no one, they let it out and kept going at a hurried pace. This floor was little more than a storage area for food and other supplies. A multitude of aromas from different barreled goods permeated the air despite being locked behind closed doors. He distinctly smelt potatoes and onions among the mix. Several hallways branched off from the main intersection, leading to the door openings of the large cellars. Jeanette had once told him that there were other rooms just below ground level, used for laundry, but that they did not connect with the main series of floors leading down.

Since they had not seen a single member of the Academy Guard anywhere, his tension eased, and he allowed the two of them to go more quickly again. He doubted there were any more. At this time of night, it was only to be expected. Most of Gadrale Keep was defended at the gate of the wall to the fortress or else by the enclosure of the walls and towers themselves. It seemed as though that was where the two of them would need to focus their concern next.

His friend was still leaving a trail of blood on the stone floor and seemed to be getting weaker as time went on; he held no false hope of him reaching safety to receive treatment. He had to think of how to get out himself. Perhaps he could even break from his companion when they came in view of the gate and run with the quill pen, leaving him to be slaughtered. An easy enough plan, all it required was that he witnessed his fellow’s destruction to make sure that he revealed nothing.

He relaxed further. Even with the losses their team had taken, and would take, this was going to be easy. Their lord would be pleased. Despite there only being one of them left to return to the others, their theft was already a resounding success. Gadrale Keep, though dangerous, was little more than a house of fools.

They steadily proceeded up the steps toward the ground floor. He knew from the layout information provided by Jeanette that the opening for the passageway toward the exit was down a hall on the right. He came to the top opening of the stairs with his companion and immediately took a right turn.

“What the…?” He suddenly heard a voice say from behind him. He froze for an instant and his pulse began to race. Immediately he pushed away from his companion while turning around to see a tall man with red hair, a red mustache, and the crimson wizard’s robes of a pyromancer.

The beast had caught sight of them.

Things seemed to be moving slowly. The red-robed man’s now angry blue eyes stared in consternation at his fellow’s flickering legs while his hands made their dreaded journey to a raised position. In a terrible grip of fear, he didn’t wait to see the result: he began turning as fast as he could to run but knew he would gain little distance before the attack came.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a bright flash from flame and heard his companion scream in fiery agony just before there was a hard exploding sound. Burnt pieces of his friend flew past him through the air, and something he thought was his arm along with other charred debris hit him in the back, momentarily causing a distortion in his own invisibility. He desperately hoped the fire wizard hadn’t seen it.