“His ‘stepping outside his bounds,’ got himself and his friends hurt, and two boys died!”
“It was a tragedy. That much is certain, yet…”
“He abandoned his post,” she cut in, “he disobeyed orders, he didn’t tell his superiors what he knew and-that’s treason. He abused the respect that two untrained youths had for him to foolishly place them in danger.” Her hand tightened into a fist as tears resurfaced. “A negligence that cost them their lives!”
Arrendis looked on stoically, waiting to see if she would say more. “‘Treason’ and ‘negligence’ are harsh words that say nothing about the reasons behind the actions he’s taken to deserve them. Or the exact situation he was faced with when he did. If you are that shaken by these events, then perhaps you should go speak with Vincent yourself to find out what they truly are. As I am about to do. If he really was your friend as you say, or if you were ever really his, you should have no reason not to.”
Jessica was less eager about that idea but didn’t want to voice why. “I…um…I’ve been busy…” she stammered. Arrendis looked off while leaning on his staff, letting a breath out of his nose. “…I,…I suppose I could…but it would have to be after I’m not on duty, if I did…”
“While you’re standing there deciding, I must depart and pay him my own visit before attending to other matters at hand.” Arrendis’ staff made poignant tapping noises on the stone path as he left. “Farewell.”
Jessica stood alone on the walkway.
Maybe I will, she thought.
* * *
“…they serve and worship a god named Kargoth, The Lord of Death,” Vincent told Arrendis from behind metal bars while he held two of them in his hands. “Strangely enough, they even offered us a chance to join them, and then things got much worse when we refused.”
“Remarkable,” Arrendis mused, looking down while stroking his white beard, “and what do you suppose was in the caldron?”
“He wouldn’t tell us, other than that it was not what he used to bring back Stan and Craig from the dead.” Vincent could feel a sharp tinge of despair go through him, and was silent a moment longer. “I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”
Arrendis looked up from his pondering to gaze into Vincent’ eyes meaningfully. “Every action taken has consequences, even if that action is just. I honestly don’t know if you will be absolved of this. I will do what I can to sway the council on your behalf, but the final decision will still be theirs to make.” His time worn face took on an expression of regret. “I am sorry, Vincent. You must know that I would stay longer to hear more if I could. I cannot. I am due to teach a class soon. I shall return anon to speak of this with you.”
As Arrendis began to turn away, Vincent called out his name. When his mentor looked back, Vincent voiced a doubt that had been troubling him all day while he had been waiting in his cell. “Did I make the right choice?” He asked in a subdued tone.
Arrendis stepped closer and placed his hand on Vincent’s shoulder, his barely visible sympathetic eyes fixed sincerely on his. “I believe so. The loss of Stan and Craig is unfortunate. I feel sorrow over their passing, having taught them myself when they were younger. I can see also that you are quite distraught over this.” He let out a sigh. “However, there are other things to consider. The destiny of those two boys for instance.”
“…destiny?”
“They were both junior members of the Academy Guard, were they not? It was their intention to one day lay their lives down for the keep if need be, and when they went with you, they did just that. Had they been fully grown, a negligence that resulted in their deaths would not be listed among the charges leveled against you.” Vincent looked down and felt his eyes glisten. “Based on your own story, you were given little time to react. There were few options left to you and all of them unpleasant.”
Vincent’s demeanor did not change. He felt fear and uncertainty over his fate, which now lay in the hands of a council that held him in no favorable regard. Arrendis squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. “Have faith in yourself, Vincent. It is the only shield you have against despair, your conviction, your only weapon against these less than relevant allegations.”
“Less than relevant? Master, I could be severely punished for…”
“Less relevant than what you uncovered that day,” Arrendis interjected, “the council should be concerning itself with the newfound threat, not with trying you for these trifles. That is what I meant, of course.” Vincent nodded his understanding. “And if the council were indeed taking an active part in seeking your quarry, what would have been the result? Hmm? Whom would they have sent? A handful of wizards? You may have run into more than you could handle, but who is to say that the result could not have been the same or worse had someone other than you and your friends gone in your stead? Their exclusive use of hindsight in their judgment leaves much to be desired.”
“But what about my silence? Now that I think about it, if my friends and I had all been killed, which we almost were, there would have been no one left to tell the others what we had learned.” He felt a growl of disgust escape his own lips. “I wanted to do more! I did!” He gripped the bars hard and jostled them. “There just wasn’t enough time!”
Arrendis shook his head and let out an understanding sigh. “It matters not. You made mistakes, Vincent, everyone does. Even the masters. No one can foresee or control everything, and sometimes unfortunate things happen. We can only remain true to what we believe in and hope that all turns out well.” Arrendis held his eyes a moment longer. “I must take my leave of you.”
“Thank you for coming, master,” Vincent voiced in deference, his mind too preoccupied while he looked off to the side.
* * *
Jessica passed through one stone hall and then another until she came to the entryway for the stairs that would lead down to the detention area. She stopped in front of it without going down. Even if what Arrendis had told her had merit, what was she doing here? Vincent was at most a casual friend, she thought sadly. This was his business, not hers. What did she hope to accomplish by visiting him?
To hear his side of the story, she told herself. To satisfy some twisted curiosity over what turns a good person bad? She wondered. Or perhaps she wanted to learn who the real Vincent actually was since he obviously was not the person she had come to know. She couldn’t explain to herself why she should care so much about Vincent; she just did. Something within her longed for him and wished only that Stacy hadn’t taken him from her first. Yet there was another part that told her he was careless and unscrupulous-that going to see him was a bad idea. That part kept her standing firmly in place before the stairway opening.
But what if he wasn’t?
She would just say “hi,” to him, maybe ask a question or two, she thought, negotiating with her own misgivings. Where was the harm in that? Surely it wouldn’t hurt to say a few friendly things, ask him how he is, she could manage that.
Jessica tossed her hair back with both her hands self-consciously then took a deep breath and released it audibly in preparation. Carefully grabbing the hem of her light brown dress to make sure she didn’t step and trip on its bottom edge, she began taking her first steps down. With how the light orbs were protected, being placed inside stone alcoves in the wall behind a metal grate, this part of the keep appeared much darker than the rest. She felt like she was entering Vincent’s dark world. After passing through two other floors, she finally reached the bottom.
The room she came to was almost as dark as the stairway and held two guards in red uniforms near the opening who ignored her at first, seeming more focused on keeping people in than out. A desk stood to her left with a portly, mustached army officer who appeared middle-aged, standing behind it and leaning forward only slightly on his hands. At the opposite end of the room, a thinner hallway broke off with many openings on each side: those led to the holding cells. The officer cleared his throat loudly, though not in way meant to get he
r attention, and then rubbed the back of his thumb against his mustache irritably.
When Jessica walked closer to him, he looked the other way, obviously disinterested in speaking to her and clearly harboring no intention of stopping her from visiting the prisoner if she chose. Jessica immediately understood: she was a sorceress, and their prisoner, a wizard. They had no say in how he was to be treated and didn’t want anything to do with him. If Vincent broke out, she wondered if they would have any conviction whatsoever to risk themselves in trying to stop him or if they would just let him leave without a fight. Normals were intensely fearful of magic, and none of these men appeared pleased with what their work currently entailed.
Jessica walked down the hall slowly, wondering what she would say to Vincent and in what condition she would find him. She looked in both directions down each opening she passed, seeing no one. The end of each hallway contained only an iron gate with a rectangular opening at the bottom for passing food through.
When she reached the other side of the cell block, she looked first down the right opening and after seeing no one, she looked down the left. Vincent was staring down the hall at her as though he had known before seeing her that someone was coming. He sat with his back to the wall on her left, holding his sword across his raised knees and polishing it with the end of his cape, his right hand continued its work even as he looked her way. When their eyes met, she felt a flutter in her chest and stood there for a moment, having to remind herself to walk forward. Vincent watched as she approached, not reacting with the shyness he usually displayed around her in the gardens but with an almost sullen calm. A calm that her instincts told her was also troubled.
Only when she came closer, did he rise to his feet, fit his sword’s point into his scabbard’s opening, and slide it in. The silence hung thick between them, even more so when he turned to her and stood just on the other side of the bars, waiting for her to say something. His rugged, handsome face looked damaged not by something physical from without, but by something within. With his head resting a little higher than hers, his striking dark eyes remained locked on her own. Jessica’s heart raced.
Unable to bear the intensity of their silent connection, she broke from his gaze as her mind worked hard, trying to figure out what to say to him. Somehow, she didn’t think that a simple greeting would suffice. She didn’t much like what came out either. “You’ve created quite a stir. There are many around the keep who have come to despise you, I…”
“I don’t care,” Vincent retorted coldly before she could finish, his tone and his expression betraying a loss of forbearance. She looked back into his eyes. She saw the pain of emotional denial, yet it was clear that he was not in any mood to justify his actions to her if she were one of those people. His next words were cryptic and vague. “Jessica, this is all much bigger than…much bigger than them. If their sensibilities can’t handle my minor transgressions, then it’s going to be impossible for them to cope with the real trouble, once it begins. If you’ve come to reprimand me, you’re wasting your breath.”
She didn’t think them minor and lost her cautionary passivity, no longer able to contain herself. “What ‘trouble!’ Vincent, what has been happening to you lately! Ever since you were attacked that night you’ve been acting strangely. If you knew something, why didn’t you tell the masters and try to get their help?”
Vincent’s expression darkened further, and he backed away from the gate, letting out an exasperated breath. “Because they like to pretend things aren’t happening! They do nothing unless it’s convenient!” He folded his arms and then leaned against a wall, sighing and half talking to himself. “…just like with all the murders and disappearances I was looking into. Illegally.”
Jessica could tell that there was much more to his feelings at the moment than a temporary anger from her recrimination. He was afraid of something, terribly afraid, and she didn’t think it was a fear for himself.
She frowned. “Telling them would have been better than nothing.”
He straightened up and walked toward her. “They wouldn’t have cared what I had to say even if I did. I needed more evidence to go anywhere with it. I got the evidence alright, paid for in blood. And for my part, I’m to be punished-for doing what they wouldn’t.”
“But why did you have to drag Stan and Craig into it!”
She watched Vincent’s brown eyes glisten in the pale, white light. He swallowed before speaking. “Stan and Craig are the ones who discovered Clyde and led us to his camp. They threatened to go without me and were too eager to chase after him. All we could do was try to catch up.” He looked down and to the side. “I’ll probably grieve over their deaths for the rest of my life, always wondering if I could have done something differently. But in the end, it won’t help them. Nothing can.”
Jessica felt a strong urge to console him. If the bars weren’t in the way, she thought she might have. Instead she stood her ground, her eyes beginning to water as well. “You could have told someone,” she insisted in a subdued tone. “You could have told someone and asked them to help you stop those boys from running off.”
Despite his wet eyes, Vincent’s face went from sad to angry. “Don’t you think I know that!” He yelled at her. His suddenly loud voice shook her for an instant. “What was I supposed to do! Sick our guards on them and lose my only chance of finding the cult!”
“What cult?”
“Kargoth, they…look, lots of people have died. If we don’t stop them, far more are going to die. And when that happens, Stan, Craig, and even your brother will be the least of it.”
Jessica was thunderstruck. “What do you know about Harold? Did you see him?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure I know what became of him. When we were attacked, I saw a lot of the missing people. They were…”
“Then maybe he’s alive!” She interjected quickly. “Where did you see them! Maybe there’s still hope!”
Vincent’s appearance became more weary. His eyes glistened as he stared at her. Several long moments passed and he had trouble keeping eye contact. His expression let her know their fate long before he shook his head. She could tell that he didn’t want to voice it. She pressed him anyway. She had to know what had happened.
When he told her, a fright clutched at her insides. “But you didn’t see him,” she maintained, “maybe he’s somewhere else. Lost.”
Vincent looked troubled at saying what came next. “Jessica, I understand why you want to believe that, but unless there’s another cult I don’t know about that’s been abducting people, it looks pretty grim for him.”
Slowly, the weight of it sunk in. She started crying. Moments passed by that seemed like an eternity while she sobbed at her brother’s passing. “Why Harold…” she whispered to no one in particular.
When things became quiet, Vincent spoke softly to her. “In the short time that I knew him, I began to feel almost as though he were my own little brother. I would have done anything to spare you this. I didn’t get involved at first just because he needed to be saved but because I…”
She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked before he could finish.
Vincent said nothing.
Her feelings turned to anger as she looked up at him. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know. They ran away.”
“Why didn’t you try to get more help before you left? Maybe with more people you could have killed them!” She sobbed.
Vincent straightened up and fixed her with a serious stare. “I told the only people I could count on to help me, and they did.”
Jessica wasn’t one of them.
She looked up at his face and heard several pairs of steps approaching from behind as a deep rending sadness swelled in her chest and tears poured from around her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She could barely control her voice enough to get the words out. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
A voice spoke from behind her. “You will
now face your inquiry, Vincent Faren,” the man announced evenly. “Open the gate,” he muttered to someone else. The same officer she saw in the room outside responded to the command by walking past her and fumbling with a large ring of keys, trying to find the right one.
Vincent sighed in disgust when it was taking too long. “Don’t bother.” He put his hand near the lock, there was a click, and then he slowly swung the gate inward and stepped out. Jessica was shocked and noticed that the jailor was equally surprised.
“How long have you been able to do that?” One of his guards asked from behind as Vincent came closer to her.
“I have always been able to do that.”
He spoke quietly to the other wizard. “We’ll need to inform the masters to send someone down here to spell the door.”
Vincent turned to her with a sad look and said one last thing before leaving with them. “You’ve been a good friend, Jessica, and I appreciate the time we’ve spent together, but it’s better if you stay out of this,” his tone turned even more somber, “you’ll just get in trouble like me.”
The wizards flanked him while he walked, keeping a step behind to make sure they would have the upper hand. Jessica watched as the jailor followed the three of them, his keys jangling. Her tears lessened, but another type of sadness overtook her, one that was now born of sympathy for Vincent.
She realized what he had been trying to do all this time.
Chapter XIV
King Glidewell, sovereign of Ryga, sat atop his mighty throne within the great hall of his palace at Doln. Inside the vast chamber, he had been hearing petitioners bring their complaints. The more petty matters were handled by those under him, but when they deemed them something worthwhile, something that was only within his majesty’s power to grant, they were permitted entry. He was a benevolent and enlightened ruler, one that was concerned with the strength and vitality of his nation and who made it his chief aim never to overlook something important. Wars and other disasters could only be prevented in this way, he the sole individual who could mitigate them, and his was the tireless vigilance that ensured the survival and well being of the people throughout his kingdom.
Storm of Prophecy, Book I: Dark Awakening Page 24