Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (15 page)

“Stan claims to be able to read lips and thought the man said something to her at one point like ‘…it is time, we must go,’ or something like that. It made us curious because he didn’t look as if he were someone employed by the keep. If he was, they were already here, where would they go? He just gave us a bad feeling altogether. If we were wrong, and it looked like they were just going somewhere private to…you know, then I would be embarrassed and we would merely have to leave them to it. It was already late, almost nighttime, and what made us really suspicious is that she didn’t turn to go back to her quarters in the keep. Instead, she walked with him toward the gate to leave the campus. Stan and I tried to act casual when we walked by them, going in the other direction as they passed, and we pretended to be talking and laughing about something so they wouldn’t think we were paying any attention.

“After we walked by a good enough distance, we ducked behind a building and then turned around to follow them. It was around the same time when Stan was supposed to relieve you. I’m sorry Vincent, but we were so caught up in what was going on that it was the furthest thing from our minds.”

“No offense taken,” Vincent replied, “please continue.”

“We were right, they were walking to the gate, and we knew that something unusual was afoot. After the gatekeeper unlocked the gate for them and let them out, Stan and I kept a safe enough distance and waited an extra amount of time before asking to go out ourselves so we wouldn’t be noticed. We followed them from afar as they went down the open road to the city, wondering if they were going to spend the night there and I was just going to be embarrassed. It got dark by the time they left the city behind, and we continued following them on a dirt road out into the country. Eventually we left the road and followed them when they entered the forest.

“It was tough going. We had trouble seeing them and proceeded slowly, following any sound they made while being careful not to make any of our own. Finally, we started to see something that looked like a fire.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t caught,” Vincent pointed out.

Craig looked him in the eyes with a wild expression while he nodded. “We were already scared half to death, but what we saw there made me more frightened than I have ever been.” He took a deep breath as his eyes became lost in thought, he looked almost too troubled to go on.

“I too had my own fright that night,” Vincent commented in reassurance. “What was yours?”

Craig gazed back at him with wet eyes. “I saw…a crowd sitting in a wide circle around a bonfire. Everyone was wearing black hooded robes that covered their faces while they stared downward and chanted things I couldn’t understand.” Craig stared away distantly, looking disturbed at what came next. “Between them and the fire lay four children: a boy and three girls. Their hands and feet were bound with rope, but there were no gags…” he had difficulty uttering the words past his own tense breathing, “we could hear them…crying out for help, to anyone who would listen, asking for their mothers, begging to go home, but we were helpless to do anything about it. I had never felt so powerless and ashamed in my entire life. We wanted to run away, to get help, and the only thing we could do was stay crouched, hiding. I remember shaking from being too scared to move
-
afraid we would be caught. I knew that I was no match even for Jeanette if there had been a confrontation, and there were many more besides her, and she…” his voice broke and he couldn’t go on.

“Take as long as you need,” Vincent comforted, “I want to know
everything
.”

Craig removed his glasses and tried in vain to wipe away his tears, more kept coming. His voice was unsteady but controlled enough to continue speaking. “First, she took off her clothes and changed into something black. It covered her head and face, except for her eyes, and was tighter than what everyone else was wearing. The strange man did the same thing. Two other people already wearing that clothing left from the circle to stand near them. They each waved a hand over a child, and their cries stopped; something they did paralyzed them and made them quiet. Then they each took out a knife…”-Craig’s face paled-“…Stan and I could only see enough at that distance to know that they were doing a lot of intricate work. The most we could tell was that there was a lot of blood on the front of each child’s chest. At the end…it looked like they were holding something in their hands, and then not long after, Jeanette and the other three were gone, they vanished.

“Stan and I stayed concealed in the bushes, too afraid to move or breathe. We waited and waited for them to leave, and worried we would have to hide there for the entire night. The circle started chanting different things but kept repeating one line over and over. I counted it to keep track of time. After they said it about a hundred times, we backed away, hiding in the shadows, and started crawling out of there really slowly so as not to make a single sound. We didn’t follow our trail back. Instead we took the longest possible route back around to Gadrale Keep so that if they were headed for the city, we wouldn’t run into them.

“By the time we got back, the whole campus was in chaos, sending search parties of trackers, mages, and troops to try to find the thieves’ trail. When Master Clemens found us, he was furious.”

“You told him all of this, and he still didn’t believe you?” Vincent asked in shock.

“We didn’t get that far with it before he started yelling at us. We only got to tell him that we were spying on someone”-Craig’s eyes found the floor-“because of the time that we stood you up before that, without good reason, I guess I can kind of understand why.” His eyes frantically looked back up at Vincent. “But this time it wasn’t for something stupid! If Jeanette is still somewhere here on campus, she must be found and taken into custody! She’s a monster!”

“I don’t think we have to worry about her any longer,” Vincent said uneasily.

“Of course we do! She’s a sick person! She must stand trial for her crimes!”

“I guess no one bothered to tell you, did they?”

“Tell me what?”

Vincent dimmed his eyes and shook his head. “Forget it,” he voiced slowly and without enthusiasm.

“No. Tell me what? I want to know.”

Vincent sighed. “She’s dead.”

“Oh,” Craig replied, looking shocked and then depressed afterward.

“I killed her,” he added.

Craig straightened and held Vincent’s gaze. “I regret only that I ever had feelings for her in the first place. She got exactly what she deserved.” He may have said the words, but to Vincent, he didn’t look entirely relieved at this news.

“So I’ve been told,” Vincent muttered to himself. He started to feel lost, like he had run into another dead-end. He searched his mind for where and what he would look for next. There was nothing except the vague description of a man, nothing substantial. He had to learn whatever he could. “What else were you able to tell about the people you saw?”

“Not much. I think they were some kind of cult.”

That much was obvious, but Vincent didn’t say so. “Did they have any other prisoners?” He asked, hoping for a clue about Harold.

Craig seemed to think about it. “No.”

He kept grasping at any shred he might find. “What about the words they were chanting, do you remember any of them? Do you know what they were saying?”

Craig looked really confused as he thought back, trying to remember. “I don’t know the language they were using. It all sounded like gibberish to me.”

“Just give me anything,” Vincent insisted, “anything at all. Even if you remember the words but don’t understand them.”

“I didn’t pay attention to most of it. Most of the words in the refrain were more slurred, but there was one word that never was, one word that stood out time and time again.”

“What was that word?” Vincent asked anxiously.

Craig fumbled with it, trying to pronounce it right. “…ar…no…kar…‘kargoth,’ I think. ‘kargoth.’”

“What is ‘kargoth?’ A name? A thing?”

“I don’t know, but it was important enough for them to say it over and over again.”

Vincent considered other sources of information. “Do you think Stan might remember anything else, something you don’t? When might I be able to talk with him?”

“Master Clemens has us alternating the vault constantly. When one of us is on shift, the only chance we get to eat or take a break is if the other relieves us for a few minutes. I’m due for a lunch break in a little while; you might be able to talk to him then.”

Vincent realized he hadn’t eaten anything himself since early that morning, and it had to be well past noon by now. “I’m feeling quite hungry myself. If I were to go there right now, would he be down here around the time I got back?”

“Probably,” Craig said. “I’m still not so sure I understand your interest in all of this though. I don’t mean to demean you in any way, but what can you really do about it? Why do you care so much?”

Vincent countered with a question of his own. “Why did you follow that girl instead of relieving me?” Craig said nothing and so Vincent answered for him. “Because of all those things you’ve been getting lectured about. And because defending the academy sometimes requires us not to show a blind eye to potential threats. You also forget that I was almost killed over it.”

“Does this mean you believe us?”

“It means that I’m willing to look into it and give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Maybe you could tell some of these things to Master Clemens. He’ll listen to you, maybe he’ll…”

Vincent held up a hand as he cut him off. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he warned sternly. “Until any of this information actually proves to be reliable, Master Clemens isn’t likely to cut your punishment short. You even said yourself that he would increase the duration if he found out you were spreading your ‘lies.’” Vincent left out how he wasn’t entirely sure yet that it wasn’t a farce either.

Craig didn’t look dismayed at all. “Actually, I was going to suggest that if you brought these things to his attention, he might involve the council and then they could mobilize more people to seek out the cultists.”

“No offense,” Vincent started, “but I doubt they would mobilize the entire academy on your word alone. Or mine for that matter. We need tangible evidence, something to follow. Telling the masters that a dark cult killed children and harvested their life’s essence for a spell accomplishes nothing. They already know which spell was used and that its use can only imply wrongdoing. We need something that lets us know how and where to find those who committed these atrocities. Until we have that, we have nothing.”

“Perhaps one day, I could take you to where their fire was,” Craig suggested.

“I’m sure they’re all gone by now. And the ashes of a fire don’t prove anything; the council will not be convinced.”

Craig nodded, his mood sank even more. His eyes met Vincent’s. “But how do we find more? Clemens isn’t excusing us for any of our classes. Our instructors know what is going on, but we still have to just catch up whenever we can. That doesn’t leave me or Stan time to do anything.”

“I’ll try to find out what I can for the time being. It will only be a week before you’re able to start helping me. Just hang tight.” Vincent started backing up down the hall. “I’m going to go eat now so I can be back in time to talk with Stan.” He turned and started to leave.

“Oh, and Vincent?” Craig called out to him. Vincent stopped and turned around. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For coming, and for listening.” Vincent nodded and then walked out.

When he reached the dining hall, it was packed. A few people cast curious glances his way and gossiped to each other in whispers. Vincent did his best to ignore it and got in line. Lunch was a simple bowl of meat and vegetable stew, and Vincent began to wolf it down as soon as it was cool enough. He kept thinking about what he had learned, but was eager still to speak with Stan in the hopes that he might learn more.

Soon after he was finished with his meal, Vincent went back downstairs to the outside of The Crafters’ Vault, passing Craig on the way with a slight nod. Craig only winked during that brief encounter, saying nothing out of fear that it might draw further attention to himself or that he was on speaking terms with Vincent. Vincent later found Stan guarding the same hallway to the vault and spoke with him.

Unlike Craig, Stan wore red pyromancy robes, no glasses, and had dirt blond hair and blue eyes. His conversation with him was far more expedient because Craig had already told Stan about the discussion they had had just prior to it. Stan told Vincent much the same story and was able to remember little else. One thing that Stan did provide Vincent with, was a little more certainty of what he had heard. When two people contrive to lie and make up a story, the story that each one tells rarely matches up completely with the other. Theirs did. Perfectly. What was more, both were able to remember what the man they saw leaving the campus looked like and that one word:
kargoth
.

Tired from having been awake since well before morning, and enduring so much anxiety, Vincent set about returning to his quarters on the fourth floor to rest and plan his next move. There was still time left in the day, and he couldn’t afford to waste any of it. He was certain that those he opposed would not be wasting any of theirs.