Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening

by Von Werner, Michael

  She waved her right hand above her and a part of the sky with the specific stars she wanted them to see became larger and closer in their view. Vincent could see clearly two bright stars, a smaller blue one on the left and a bigger, more menacing red one on the right. “This star,” she said, pointing to the blue one on the left, “is Zugon, ‘The Witness to The Ages.’ It’s place is a relative constant with the shifting of the seasons. When Xabran, a smaller white star, can be seen circling it, the usual cycles of nature are in play, and if it passes behind Zugon, an age has passed.” She pointed to the menacing red star on the right. “This is Bawsenneji, ‘The Raging Tempest.’ Where he passes, only destruction follows, and then nature must replenish itself afterward. If it can. This time, he is masking Xabran directly, striking at the very heart of the natural order.”

  “What does that mean?” Rick asked.

  She gathered herself by taking a deep breath before answering. “It means that we are about to face a calamity of enormous magnitude.”

  “What kind of calamity?” Rick asked next.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, “something really bad, and really out of proportion.”

  “Could you be a little more cryptic? I think I understood part of that,” Karl mocked. “A crazed fortune teller on the street could have said the same thing, and I’d put just about as much stock in it.”

  “How dare you!” She snapped back, not looking at all pleased with his remark.

  Rick stepped between them and put his hands up to prevent any further altercation. “Now, now, we’re all on the same side here.”

  Vincent was too busy racking his mind over the significance to pay too much attention to the exchange. A new approach suddenly struck him, and he turned to Stacy. “If you can’t tell us exactly what it is, do you think you could tell us other things about it?”

  Stacy looked back toward him, most of the ire seemed to be leaving her face, but the trace of a scowl remained. “Like what?”

  “Like what it is not, for instance?”

  Her eyes looked around, considering. “Possibly,” she offered with caution. Rick stepped back and gave them each more space when he was sure they were going to be civil.

  Vincent folded his arms and put a hand to his chin as he thought long and hard on what to ask her. He decided to start first with eliminations. If she didn’t have an answer, he could eliminate that by starting with something else, something more general and less specific. “Is it an earthquake?”

  Stacy looked back up at the two stars, making a skeptical um sound. “No.”

  “Is it a tidal wave or a flood?” Rick asked.

  It took her less time to think about it. “No.”

  Intrigued, Karl also joined in. “What about a volcano or a large forest fire?”

  “No.”

  “Could it be a…” Vincent started.

  Stacy scrunched her eyelids closed and held up her hands, waving them as if to try to shield herself from their questions. “No, it’s not any of these.” She opened her eyes. “The events you are all describing are catastrophic, yes, but are still a part of the natural cycle. They are also very short in their duration, short and violent.”

  “So you’re saying that this disaster is much more permanent?” Rick asked.

  Stacy’s eyes widened when she looked at him, and she appeared a little more frightened as she nodded her head slightly. “Yes. Most definitely.”

  Vincent still needed more. “Can you tell us anything else about it’s nature?” She looked confused, and so he clarified further. “If you were to imagine it were something, anything, could you guess at how much damage it would cause?”

  “There are many kinds of damage,” she pointed out.

  “Let’s take lives,” Vincent suggested, a knot growing in his stomach, “how many deaths would this cause?”

  Stacy looked back up at the two stars, then she looked at some of the nearby phenomena for a good while. The other three looked up with her. Vincent saw a comet and a shooting star, appearing much larger than one would normally see. There was even a small patch of stars that were wreathed in a cloud of other colors. When he interrupted Stacy to ask what it was, she said it was something called a nebula. They were all silent after that, and when Stacy finally sighed, they redirected their attention to her.

  “This cataclysm,” she began, turning to look at Vincent, “if directed at lives alone, would be the same as if every living thing in our world were to suddenly die.”

  They were all pretty shaken by that, and were quiet once more, feeling the enormity of it. Karl recovered from his shock first and asked a more pertinent question. “How do you know that this is in any way connected with the cult we seek?”

  “Cults like theirs usually like to remain hidden. They live in constant fear of being discovered and purged. The attack on our vault was a pretty bold move on their part. Even gutsy, wouldn’t you say?”

  “You believe then, that they stole from us because of this?” Karl asked next.

  “Yes,” she answered. Then she looked him in the eyes, dimming hers slightly and spoke quietly with foreboding, “they might even know more about it than we do.”

  There was an oppressive stillness to the air as they all stood silently. They were each horrified in their own way at the thought that the cult might know more or even have a hand in it. Vincent felt as though the challenges he faced had just become overwhelmingly more difficult.

  “No wonder you’re less worried about your academic standing,” Rick remarked, breaking the silence. “You don’t have much to lose.”

  “None of us do,” she pointed out.

  Vincent felt hopelessness and despair clutching at him. “Is there no way to stop this? Can destiny be changed?”

  Stacy folded her arms under her breasts as she looked off. “No one knows,” she said distantly, a sad expression on her face. “If there is a chance that this fate can be altered, then it’s definitely something worth fighting for.” She looked back up at the ceiling. The blue star and the menacing red star stared back. “Or dying for,” she added as an afterthought.

  Vincent was still worried. “When will it…take place?”

  “Soon.”

  Chapter VIII

  A t the conclusion of their meeting that night, they exchanged information about when and where they might contact each other if needed and divided the research task somewhat equally amongst themselves. Karl, Rick, and Stacy each took one of the libraries out on campus to begin their search while Vincent, who had more free time, agreed to start pouring through the texts in the library level two floors above the vault since it was much bigger. If someone finished early, they were to go to another library to assist someone else. Once they were done, they would all converge upon the last library located on the second deepest floor of the keep.

  Vincent spent most of the next few days meticulously checking different volumes for the word that Stan and Craig both remembered. He checked lists in spell books and dictionaries from as many languages as he could, and still he found nothing. People occasionally stared at him, thinking it strange to see someone in clothes like his and wearing a sword studying in a library. Vincent had become used to it over the years he had lived at Gadrale. Lately, he spent what little time he had when he was not engrossed to occasionally stop for a meal or to practice his swordsmanship. When he became frustrated, he would duel some of the better soldiers with sticks in order to vent his aggravation at not having found it. There were a few that almost won. One time when he visited the dining hall, Stacy passed by him on her way out and told him that she was almost finished with her library. Vincent felt like he was lagging behind, but was grateful for her offer to help him with his once she was done.

  On the fourth day in a row, Vincent continued his relentless search for hours and hours until his eyes could bear it no more. Disappointed, he tried his best to calm himself and decided to take a break. He normally enjoyed visiting the gardens in the morning; breathing in t
he fresh air seemed to revive him and better prepare him for the day.

  He hadn’t visited them lately because of all that had happened and because he had no desire to trouble himself fretting over Jessica. This was bigger than his original selfish reasons for getting involved. It was silly to think that rescuing her brother would make her love him if she didn’t. Since she hadn’t showed any interest in whether he had lived or died, he guessed this was the case. His heart sank as he headed for the gardens.

  It was late afternoon. The mornings were when she usually worked there, and so Vincent felt it safe to assume that she wouldn’t be there now. He felt glad to leave the confines of the vast library on the third floor down of the keep and to escape what was starting to feel like his prison of paper, bookshelves, and stone.

  As he passed through the hallways and steps, he was only barely aware that other people traversing them even existed. Try as he might, he could not take his mind off of the word ‘kargoth’ and what it could mean, what it could be. It was exhausting, and he needed this reprieve to fight off the feeling of being fed up.

  Once outside the gatehouse, Vincent breathed for the first time this day, air that did not smell like stale old parchment. He allowed his eyes to gaze across the expanse of the campus grounds and its many lawns and buildings. To his left and further across the grass and paths, was the Tower of Prophecy where Stacy had foretold their doom. Past the lawns and other paths to his right, were the gardens set in the middle of several low buildings with pale orange walls and red tile roofs.

  The gardens did not have a fence to speak of; one could walk through the path provided and view the trees, bushes, and flowers on the sides. Vincent was bombarded by a mixture of different fragrances, each with a pleasant smell of its own. The breeze carrying them rustled against the leaves. He must have walked this path hundreds of times, yet he still found the beauty extraordinary.

  When he arrived at the clearing where there were less trees and bushes and more flowers and other plants in a wide circle surrounding the path, the peacefulness and beauty brought with it a hard streak of melancholy. This was where he had always spent time talking with Jessica and occasionally helped her to pull weeds, plant flowers, or water plants. He had been a groundskeeper here at Gadrale in his youth, and so it came naturally to him. Although he desired her while keeping his feelings for her a secret, Vincent would have thought that he and Jessica were at least friends. It hurt him deeply that she hadn’t come to visit him in the infirmary. It meant she didn’t care. Everyone else who was at least his friend had, as had a number of curious strangers. He knew now that his hopes of winning her heart had been in vain. She had never shared his feelings; she had merely tolerated him.

  Having now faced death, he knew there were worse things than a broken heart, yet was unable to shake the sadness. Though no tears came, he still felt empty inside. Of all the women at Gadrale Keep, Jessica was the one he had gotten along with the best. Even more, he had fallen for her; he didn’t know if that could happen with anyone else. Most women didn’t think much of him. They thought of him as the same as any normal. When they saw him, they saw a commoner with a sword.

  For some reason, he could not force himself to find fault with Jessica. It seemed there was nothing about her he did not adore. She had long beautiful, silky black hair, and gorgeous light blue eyes which shone like diamonds. Her pretty face, the way she smiled, and her lovely curvaceous figure filled him with such intense desire at his core that he felt a completely deprived and insufficient being without her. He didn’t know why she felt nothing for him. He guessed there must be something about himself that she didn’t like, but didn’t have any idea what.

  Whatever the reason, Vincent started to feel as though coming here was a waste of time. In the face of his obligations, his own personal feelings and issues had to come second. If his venture to the gardens could not provide him with the solace or relaxation he sought, then he had to leave and do something else. At the moment, the very thought of pouring through more books made him dizzy, and he could think of no place else he would like to go.

  Vincent crouched down next to a peculiar purple flower he hadn’t seen before and gently touched its petals from underneath with his fingers while he gave more thought to the investigation that he and his friends were conducting. Though the masters had not made public the object that was stolen, Vincent felt that this piece of information was vital. If they knew what it was, it might give them a hint as to the cult’s intentions. He had wanted to know all along, but wanting was one thing, and getting was quite another. Only the masters and their closest and most trusted knew; he would only find out if there was a way to get one of them to offer it.

  As soon as Vincent had a plan in his mind, he stood up straight and turned around to leave the gardens. Off to the right of the path, closer to the edge of the circle near the opening, he saw a woman in a drab light tan dress bending over in a tall patch of flowers to pull weeds. One of the botanical mages assigned to garden maintenance at this time of day, Vincent thought at first. Her head was facing toward the path, and her long beautiful black hair gave her away. It was Jessica. These weren’t her hours, but she was here just the same. Vincent didn’t bother to wonder why. He didn’t think that a conversation with her would be necessary or productive either; there was nothing for him to say. He tried to discreetly walk past her without saying anything, hoping she wouldn’t notice him.

  Just as he came closer, she stood to her full height and did.

  A shocked expression came to her face as she momentarily disregarded the collection of weeds in her right hand. “Vincent…” She acknowledged in surprise. Then she looked him over, seeming to check to see if he really was still intact. “…you’re well, I hope?” Her beautiful eyes met his and Vincent felt like his heart had stopped.

  “I’m alive,” he affirmed, volunteering nothing.

  “You haven’t been visiting the gardens lately.”

  He wanted to cut this short. “I haven’t been interested,” he replied.

  “You look troubled, is something wrong?”

  “Something was wrong, but it’s alright now.”

  Curiosity came over her expression and she seemed to wonder at what he wasn’t saying. “I heard about what happened down in the vault.”

  “Then you know everything,” he said, trying to brush it off so he could leave. He had better things to do.

  “Wait,” Jessica said, holding up a hand when he started to move. It didn’t appear as though she was going to let him get away that easily. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

  Vincent had already done so a number of times with other people, and had no desire to do so again, especially not with her. “Not particularly,” he answered.

  Jessica seemed to sense his distance but didn’t let it stop her. “Well, weren’t you hurt? I mean, badly enough to land you in the infirmary?”

  “That’s true.” Vincent saw that Jessica had a look of concern on her face, and didn’t know if it was genuine or not. He hated that. He wanted this over with as quickly as possible. The sympathy of a bystander meant nothing to him, even if that bystander was beautiful.

  Jessica continued to pry. “It created quite a stir. I heard that the masters got involved.”

  “Yeah, it’s a shame you missed it,” he replied in a completely neutral and disinterested tone, purely for the sake of small talk, “there was even a speech.”

  Despite his tone and the façade of not caring, Jessica still stared at him for a split second as if to try to read some meaning into what he said. He suddenly feared that she was better at reading him than he thought, maybe from having spent time with him before, and now he wished that he had kept his mouth shut. Quietly suffering her was better than a meaningless confrontation. He had no right, and it would come to no good end.

  The realization seemed to instantly wash over her like water falling from a cliff. She let out her breath all in one rush as she blinked and her eyes momentar
ily broke contact. “I wanted to come visit you,” she explained. Vincent felt a nervous anxiety clutch at him. “I was in the middle of a class taught by Cassandra. She’s an Elf woman from Edmar, an associate professor and one of Treyfon’s first students. Anyway, they both teach the same course, but I’m in the section taught by her. No one interrupted the class to let us know you had awakened. When I came by the infirmary later, they wouldn’t let me see you because they said you were asleep. When I tried again the next day, you were already gone.” Vincent’s eyes were somewhat wider at hearing this. He felt a warm sensation flowing through his chest as if what was frozen had now melted. He said nothing.

  “You haven’t been a very easy person to find lately,” she went on. “I thought that after you left the infirmary, you would show up around here sooner or later, but you never did.” A peculiar sensation went through his stomach at the very thought of her checking up on him so, and he once again allowed himself to imagine that there might be something more between them.

  Her gorgeous blue eyes looked on, waiting for a response, and he could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest. “I’ve been busy,” he stammered.

  “I can see that,” she said, a lovely smile gracing her lips while she let out a small giggle. Vincent returned the smile and let out a small awkward laugh of his own.

  Afterward they strolled the gardens and talked while occasionally patrolling for weeds and inspecting the health of various plants. Jessica told him that she was filling in for someone else today, and Vincent silently marveled at the coincidence of having run into her at all, his foolishly smitten mind conjuring up the thought that they were meant to be. As they talked, he stuck to giving her an incomplete list of things he had done since he had left the infirmary, such as talking with the masters and so on, and tried to avoid some of the specifics. Especially those that dealt with what he and his friends were doing. He also made no mention of the time off he had been given so that the question of what he was doing with it wouldn’t come up.