Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (5 page)

“Intruder!” He heard him yell loudly to alert others. “Intruder in the keep!”

Without looking back, he weaved, jumped and rolled to the other side of the hall, a thick bright streak of flame streaming past him as he did. In the mortal terror and panic of a hunted animal about to be killed, he quickly scurried to regain his feet and resumed his mad dash down the hall, not caring about the sound of his footsteps. Even as he ran, he could hear the man’s own hurried footsteps chasing from behind. He could hear the high-pitched screaming whoosh of another blaze closing in on him, and could feel the heat touching his back.

“He went this way!” He heard the same man yell again, fearing that a silhouette against any brief flames may have revealed him. He could hear more sounds of running and yelling, and it seemed that the whole fortress had awaken.

The hunt was on.

They would be shutting the portcullises to the gatehouse soon; he had to hurry. Blood raced through his veins, and his breath was heavy and seemed too noisy, but he dared not stop running even for an instant. He soon entered the vast communal dining area laden with rows of tables and benches for eating, and took an immediate right to dash out the main door. He saw the flash of light and heard the roar from another widely placed blaze with his name on it exiting the hall behind him. From the feel of the heat, he knew it had come out a good distance and was close. Faster, he told himself, faster. There was no room for any more errors; success or failure now depended entirely on him.

“Where are they!” He heard someone yell out to the red-haired pyromancer.

“I don’t know! They have a Seal of Cheated Light! I’ve been trying to expose them with fire but they seem to have outrun it!”

Another frantic person’s voice immediately added their opinion, “I hear heavy breathing and footsteps in that direction!” He pushed his body harder and harder for as much speed as he could possibly muster.

The door was just ahead of him, down the tunnel in his vision. He held the quill feather tightly in his left hand as his arms swayed, his legs pumped, and his breath was quickly convulsing in and out. Slowing down was death, stopping was death, and unbolting and exiting the iron double door at the end, revealing his position, held a good chance of the same.

He heard another whoosh from another streak of flame. It briefly lit part of the passage. Fear kept him running for the door, but fear was also greeting him as he got closer to it. Once he did, he wasted no time in unbolting the latch and pulling one of the heavy metal doors open. It made a deep, squeaky grating on its hinges, but they didn’t need the sound; they could simply look at the door as it opened.

“There he is!” He heard someone scream.

In a frenzy, he pushed himself through the small opening before bringing it fully open, desperately trying to get out as quickly as possible. His frenetic haste caused the door to close on him prematurely, and for a brief moment he was stuck, the tight pressure of the cold metal compressing his chest and not letting him breathe. There was another screeching whoosh of flame. In a panic, he shoved it again with all his might and scrambled outside. It closed behind him with a loud clank as he ran immediately to the right.

Out in the courtyard, he sprinted for the gatehouse, which rested between two tall square-shaped flanking towers. Larger white light orbs still kept the courtyard and many parts of the keep lit even in the nighttime darkness; a wizard’s stronghold like this rarely used torches. Both of the portcullises in the gatehouse were normally left raised and open even at night since the surrounding outer wall and gate of the campus normally kept intruders out. Professional infiltrations like his were neither commonplace nor expected. Tonight was different.

Panting from the effort, he kept running for his life, not caring about any physical pain, discomfort, or exhaustion. Failure was death, and so anything he felt was meaningless. Already, alerts were sounding all around the keep, and soon the portcullises would be closed to seal the intruders in.

“I hear something down there!” A soldier shouted from on top of the ramparts of the defensive wall.

Another voice from an officer immediately took action. “Archers open fire! Spray the courtyard!” Soon arrows were hailing all around him. They didn’t know where he was, they were just trying to get lucky, but some of the missiles were coming far too close. As he dashed on, a few more pyromancers who happened to be on the wall began saturating certain spots with wide downward spirals of flame, hoping to reveal him to the archers. He had to occasionally run around them, and stopped only when one burst right in front of him. He was so close to escaping.

“We can’t hit him!” Someone complained.

“Close the gate, you idiots!” Someone else shouted to the gate crew. There was a grating sound. Large chain links rustled and moved. A fast ticking sound was soon to follow.

The portcullises were being dropped.

Constantly trying to run beyond full speed, he managed to dash past the first one, but his luck was running out. The outer one was already falling at an alarming speed like the jaws of death trying to close in on its prey. He madly put every effort into his legs and made one last insane dive, launching himself forward with arms up to land and roll just as the metal spikes were coming down. They barely missed his flesh before clanking loudly into place, yet a fold in his left sleeve had been pierced by one. He hurriedly started pulling and tearing it.

It wasn’t just the central fortress that was transforming into a pandemonium. As the alert spread, he glanced away from where he was pulling his arm and saw Academy Guard wizards hurriedly patrolling the campus grounds between buildings with torches and hand-held light orbs. Apparently they had already realized something was amiss but didn’t know of his invisibility shroud yet. He pulled harder on his shirt sleeve, not wanting to be here to discover the more clever means they would use next in trying to ferret him out once word finally reached them.

He tore harder and finally ripped his shirt sleeve free. In no time at all he was back on his feet. The part of the outer wall where his team had entered was on the left side of the campus when looking out from his position near the gatehouse. This time instead of running, he walked quickly while trying to control the sound of his ragged breathing. He tried as much as possible to avoid getting close to the prowling wizards and sorceresses who were searching for him.

The circular lawn in the middle of the buildings had a cobblestone road running through its center, straight toward the gatehouse of the fortress behind him. On the other side of the distant stretch lay the iron bar gate of the outer wall. There were a few people in the open expanse of the lawn, but it seemed most were searching elsewhere. This was troubling since many of the buildings enclosed within the campus walls were not always so far apart, certainly not as far as he would like. He just wished that he could recover his breath faster and be silent once again.

He stealthily moved onward, passing by an unusually tall wizard’s tower which widely twirled and spiraled upward in a coil yet somehow maintained its structural integrity without collapsing. Thickly foliated stands of leafy trees stood to its sides save for the entrance at the bottom. Parts of it seemed like simple stone much like the fortress. Others appeared to be made of a smooth, glossy, wavy material that was greenish in places and opaque, rugged, dull silver in others. He didn’t bother to look up at the clear crystalline pointed roofing that he knew blanketed the very top. It was obvious to him that this was the notorious Tower of Prophecy where atmomancers were trained to read the arrangement of the stars in the heavens, attempting to discern what fate had in store.

He smiled smugly to himself while he moved along, wondering if the fools had foreseen this or the full fury of the coming storm on the horizon. His own sect had known for several millennia. About the coming of the dark one. The one who would rain death upon all the land yet also be death’s master. The dark but true beliefs of his cult were not widely shared, and they dared not worship openly.

The magic they used that was associated with it, necromancy, was also completely forbidden and punishable by death. Nonbelievers in fact frowned upon everything they did, even the necessary sacrifices of people which had allowed him to penetrate this far unseen. Gathering in secret, often at night in the forests, their numbers were few. It was therefore always more efficient to rely on captured heathens for use in their ceremonies.

And their children were often easier still to capture.

They had served their purpose and now he needed to serve his. He just hoped that the essence of the one shrouding him would be potent enough to last until he cleared the outer wall, the one thing foremost in his mind. He and the followers he led would be amongst the favored. The reign of the dark one was at hand.

He maneuvered through buildings and ducked through alleyways, slipping past prowling initiate wizards as well as their instructors. Soldiers ran past. Often he heard some of the people call out to him to surrender, promising that he would be unharmed if he did. When they did this, he sometimes ducked behind tress even though he knew they couldn’t see him, such was his fear, and he didn’t want to take any extra risks since his shroud’s time was running out.

It seemed that the entire academy had awaken this night to join the search. Some were now starting to use flame in certain places, testing for his presence. Others used small weak crackles of omni-directional lightning, sparkling out from their fists, that was attracted to the nearest solid contacts. They controlled the small tingling threads of light to flow without jumping to themselves or to their fellow searchers. The strange hum caused by this was unnerving, and he hurried along to avoid it.

Soon he was past many of the buildings and within view of the section of vine covered outer wall where the rope they had used to come in was still hanging. It had been found, and there was a knot of armored Rygan soldiers wearing red colored tabards with the crest of a black lion standing in an attack posture, which covered over their breast plates and chain mail. Several in the back sported halberds and great swords while the rest in the front formed a tight phalanx with shields and spears. To their sides, stood several wizards in blue robes using the small humming lightning fields while others in red brandished angry-looking, compressed fireball sparks in their hands like the one used to blast apart his friend back in the keep. If only he had killed his companion sooner when he knew he had to, he thought, then he might not be facing this problem. Next time he would be the wiser.

Without dwelling on it further, he turned away, not wanting to be seen by this fierce-looking group when his shroud finally failed. He needed another way out. As he walked south along the inside of the outer wall, going back more or less parallel to the road leading to the keep, he tried to assess what his best option was.

Every time he heard the humming sound come closer, apprehension gripped him fiercely and he nervously looked around. The nagging, rising panic, caused by the knowledge that his invisibility was nearing its end, was making it difficult to think clearly. He was overly anxious to leave in any way he could.

He took a deep breath to try to calm himself, smelling the pleasant, fresh scent of grass and trees. The outer gate would be guarded, and he knew it would be poor if not impossible climbing to get over the metal bars. It would definitely be guarded in a similar way as the rope; they would never allow him to use that exit. That left him with no other choice than to attempt to climb out on another wall section. He didn’t even know if it could be done. He started running again since there was little time.

Once he was far enough away from the knot of soldiers and wizards, as well as concealed by another building between them, he took a hard look at the vine covered wall. It stood at least three times as tall as he, and the vines didn’t seem too likely to support his weight for long without snapping. If they were disturbed, they might give him away. He had no choice but to try. He briefly gave thought to using his magic on them to strengthen them in some way but couldn’t risk it. It would destroy what was left of his slowly weakening shroud. If he was seen, death would be immediate.

He looked around and backed up a good number of steps so he could get a running start. He put the quill pen in his mouth and bit down, clenching his teeth tightly so it wouldn’t fall out. Flexing his hands and taking a few nervous breaths to ready himself, he charged ahead at full speed. When he came close, he jumped and used his foot to try to catch the wall to jump himself up higher. At the apex of his leap, he grabbed tightly a wad of the vines, hoping that enough of them together could hold him. They did for the moment, but he could feel them stretching and being pulled apart. He quickly grabbed another bundle up higher and resumed his climb. The rustling of the disturbed leaves and stems still hadn’t revealed him yet. When he got near the top, they had taken all the strain they could and were starting to break. Desperately, he reached his hands to grip on the stone edge and tried with all his might to pull himself up. He could only get himself so high before he had to reach over the top and desperately grab hold of more of the vines. He pulled and pulled until finally he was able to swing a leg over. Once atop the wall, his invisibility shroud failed.

“Over there!” A woman’s voice screamed.

Lightning bolts and flame sparks streaked just over his head as he frantically rolled and dropped off on the other side, grabbing the vines there to ease his fall. The speed and force of the trauma was such that he dangled dangerously for only a brief moment before the stems broke and he landed on his feet with a hard thud, clumsily falling backward right after. He got up immediately. His black clothing would just have to conceal him for now. He took the feather out of his mouth and gripped it tightly in his left hand before he started running again.