Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (41 page)

As the clapping died down, he addressed those gathered. “Friends and acquaintances,” he began in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “today we are here to commemorate an important milestone in a series of rather lengthy negotiations with his majesty the king. A milestone of success.”

He was applauded by his audience again, and waited until they stopped before continuing. “As you all may know already, his wrath was due in part from an attempt on his life made by a belligerent necromancer. Understandably, he was quite unhappy with this turn of events and with us. But we have convinced him,” he paused and looked across the crowd, “we have convinced him that this aggression can only be met with the help of Gadrale Keep and its academy intact, that together we are much stronger.

“How fortunate indeed for the fiends who committed this heinous act that we should turn on each other, but no more. King Glidewell is now offering us his full support in resolving this crisis and bringing the perpetrators to justice. I was then given the privilege of assuring him,” he looked across the crowd again, making sure that he held them with each word, “that the resources we committed to hunting down our mutual enemies would be coordinated by the capable hands of Master James Anthony,”
-
he lifted a hand to indicate him
-
“our own dean of atmomancy.”

Stacy joined the crowd in clapping once again and several cheers went up. Master Anthony reciprocated to all the show of attention he received by slowly nodding his head the slightest bit toward Treyfon. A few eyes shifted toward her with uncertainty since she sat next to him, but she did her best to ignore it. She decided that because her master didn’t mind or care that this might happen, she shouldn’t either.

The ancient Elf lifted his wine glass, and Stacy stood along with everyone else, about to raise hers until something caught her eye. One of the waiters on the other side of the room was pushing one of the carts that held glasses and wine toward the direction of the doorway but hadn’t come halfway yet. Something inexplicable made her concentrate on him. Somehow, he was a danger to them, and she knew it, but her mind couldn’t yet tell her why.

His clothing was not unusual; he wore the same black clothes and white apron as the others, yet he made her skin crawl. His hair was dark and swept over on one side. That too was not unusual. She couldn’t determine whether it was a bad feeling or something real that was bothering her. She only knew that it was.

As she stared and watched his approach, she barely heard the toast that Grandmaster Treyfon was giving. Master Anthony nudged her and she lifted her glass up like the others. “…Gadrale Keep, to the health of those in it, and to our continued service to the king…”

When the mysterious individual came closer, enough for her to look at his face, she noticed something peculiar. She knew this face. Only this time it was clean around the eyes.

Cleaner than before.

Her eyes widened in realization.

“…may our fine institution prevail over any adversity,” Treyfon concluded, bringing the glass to his lips.

“Don’t drink it!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, but was too late. He had already taken a sip. Everyone else stopped before drinking and stared in dismay at her outburst.

Stacy spastically tossed her glass on the table in front of her as though she were holding a snake. It landed near the vase holding the flowers and spilled out everywhere in a mess. “It’s him!” She turned and pointed at the innocent seeming waiter. “He’s General Clyde! The one we met in the forest!”

Clyde stopped the cart and stood looking around with a guiltless and confused expression. If she didn’t know better, she might have been fooled by it as well. “What? Me?” He asked in that same voice she had heard earlier that night. “I’m just a servant. I’m not the general of anything.” He let out a few nervous laughs, and looked quite timid. She knew it was an act. “You must have me confused with someone else.” People at the tables looked back and forth between him and her.

The Elvin grandmaster spoke. “This man has worked here for a long time…”

“How long!”

Treyfon’s eyes looked up while he tried to remember. “…years. He must simply bear some small resemblance. I can assure you that he’s harmless.”

“He is a monster who slaughters children!” Stacy yelled back in contradiction, her livid lack of manners drawing gasps. “It’s him! He’s the cult leader! The drinks have all been poisoned!”

Treyfon looked perturbed at her impropriety but said nothing. The Masters’ Dining Hall remained silent as everyone stared at her. Though they appeared to doubt her, some looked at their glasses carefully and none dared to take a drink.

Master Anthony leaned over and whispered in her ear. “It’s just the server, Robert. Try to control yourself. You’re making a scene.”

When Stacy turned toward him, she tried to maintain a level of deference even though her nerves were making her lose patience. Her voice came out in a loud, energetic whisper. “Master, he is not who he claims to be!” Anthony studied her eyes carefully, but said nothing.

Treyfon lifted his voice once again for all to hear. “I drank the wine and I feel fine, maybe just a little warmer.” A few chuckles rose from the crowd.

“It could be slow acting!” Stacy insisted. “Don’t drink it!”

Clyde looked over to the Elvin grandmaster with a helpless shrug while shaking his head as though this were a waste of his time. “Your honor, I’m not paid to entertain. I must return to my work.”

“Why are you so eager to leave?” She asked accusatorily.

“Well,” he started as though thinking it over, “there are dishes to clean…and more wine casks need to be brought up…in case anyone needs their glasses refilled.”

Treyfon appeared to tire of this. “You have my permission to proceed.”

“Are you insane!” Stacy exclaimed, pointing a finger at Clyde. “This man must be taken into custody at once!”

“She’s been under much anxiety of late,” he said to Clyde as though she weren’t there. The ancient Elf then waved him off with a few back and forth motions from the top of his hand. “Just go, Robert.” Clyde made one deep nod and then began pushing his cart once more. He glanced once her way, feigning that same innocent confusion but betrayed it for only an instant with his eyes.

No one else noticed it.

Stacy felt her insides explode with rage.

Absolutely livid, she pushed Frederick aside. “I’ll kill him myself!” She then lifted her hands as she approached, wanting to end this once and for all.

Suddenly she felt hands grabbing her arms on each side to restrain her. Frederick shouted “no” just before she could unleash a deadly lightning bolt, keeping her left arm low.

“Control yourself, young lady!” Came Master Anthony’s strained voiced from her right. Clyde made a show of looking frightened and pushed his cart faster so he could leave.

“He’s the one we want!” Stacy shouted as she struggled to free herself. “You’re letting him get away!”

Even as he went past the doorway and took a right into the hall, disappearing from view, Stacy continued to fight against the powerful hands of her mentor and those from her colleague. Everyone gathered in the Masters’ Dining Hall looked on at her as though she were crazy, but she knew she wasn’t wrong. He was right there. Within their grasp.

Within
her
grasp.

“Stacy, you’re embarrassing yourself!” Frederick scolded, still trying to hold her.

“Don’t be fools!” She retorted through her exertion. At the moment she was so angry that she didn’t care whether or not he was cute. People began to sit down and some stared at her while others stared at their glasses apprehensively, passing looks between them and her. “Don’t drink that unless you
want
to die!” She shouted when they looked back her way.

“No one’s going to die!” Anthony insisted.

Grandmaster Treyfon had already sat down and was having a conversation with other plant specialists. He suddenly let out a hoarse cough. The pairs of hands holding each of her arms froze and all eyes turned toward him. “…Excuse me,” he said as a reflex to those close to him, not seeming to notice the attention he had drawn.

“Are you alright?” Cassandra asked from his side, her pointy green Elf eyes showing worry from underneath a frown.

“I’m fine. Anyway, as I was saying, the extract from the Amara plant has a peculiar property, it…” he then went on with his discussion unimpeded. All the guests seemed to temporarily relax. A few more moments passed until he suddenly took a hold of his collar and tugged on the fabric. He began to sweat and his face was red.

Cassandra voiced her concern again. “Grandmaster?”

“…I…” was all he got out before he slumped forward.

“Grandmaster!” Cassandra screamed reaching over to catch him. “Someone get help!” The woman in charge of the healers ran toward him on his other side.

Stacy indignantly pulled her left arm free from Frederick’s grip while everyone else was frozen in shock. When she pulled on her right, she unexpectedly found the hands still holding her firm. She looked up into Anthony’s face and found him staring back.

“Do you still doubt me?” She asked quickly.

“No,” he answered calmly with only the slightest trace of hostility around his eyes.

“Then release me!”

“I don’t want you chasing after him, not like this.”

She frowned while staring hard. “Do I have the council’s
consent
this time!”

“It’s not about that.”

Desperation started to creep over her. “Then what, master?” She pleaded.

“Patience.” He walked around her along the right, his hand lessening its grip and gently steering her to look toward a corner at the far end of the room, opposite of the door. He lifted his arm and pointed a finger. “Look over there.” She did and saw the Master Cerebist in gray robes sitting at a table with a few others. He noticed her doing this and nodded at the two of them.

“He told someone?” Stacy asked.

“Yes.”

“Who? Can they catch him in time?”

“As head of the new commission, I’ve already organized several teams to wait in rotating shifts in case of another infiltration. Each team has a cerebist, a seer, and several wizards who specialize in combat.” Stacy turned to look at him, a curious frown creasing her brow. His old blue eyes appeared a deep sea of wisdom. “The team on duty right now has already been alerted. They now know what he looks like, where he is going, even where he is on the premises at this very moment. The seer is watching.” He stopped a moment, gazing at her and letting his words sink in. “He will be dealt with.”

“How big is each team?” She asked.

“No more than six.”

“That won’t be enough, the cult has…”

“They’re only for the purpose of reconnaissance,” he explained. “Their mission is only to track him and discover the cult’s new whereabouts. You may join them if you wish, but keep in mind that you are only going to be shadowing him. At least until reinforcements arrive. If I speak with my colleague, he can let them know to expect you. Is that your wish? To join them?”

“Yes!” She replied eagerly, thinking that it was about time. “Where are they?”

“Probably in a room downstairs, waiting. I’m not sure which one. Let’s ask, shall we?”

Stacy nodded and then began walking with him across the room in the direction of the table where the Master Cerebist sat. Most people continued to stare at Treyfon, though a few looked her way, seeing her differently. Women held hands over their mouths, and many wept. Glasses everywhere were being dumped onto the floor. The air of the dining hall had instantly changed from one of celebration to one of terror.

From where he sat, the Master Cerebist held out his hand for her to shake. “You have a keen eye for detail, Ms.…?” He greeted, asking for her name.

“Clark,” she answered, taking the hand and giving it a gentle shake, “Stacy Clark.”

Master Anthony spoke next, cutting right to the point. “She wishes to join the scout team currently on duty. Where are they?”

“They’re in a room downstairs, waiting and monitoring. It’s the first on the left just across the hall from the stairs leading to the detention area. I’ll let them know you are coming.”

“Good,” she said, turning to leave.

“Oh, and remember,” Anthony began, stopping her short, “the team won’t be getting any closer than it has to. Don’t place yourself in any unnecessary danger, and don’t let your presence be known. The seer has a good range. Use it. In the morning, I will gather all who can be spared and join you in force. Until then, good luck and be careful.”

Stacy nodded her assent. “I will, master. Thank you.” She turned and hastened her steps.