“Is that you, Vincent?” He asked groggily.
“Yes! Come on! You have to wake up!”
“Why?”
“They spotted him again! This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for!”
Sleepy and weary, Karl opened the door, brushing his shoulder length blond hair out of his face and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Spotted who?”
“The man they saw leaving with Jeanette!” Vincent explained frantically. “He can lead us straight to the cult!”
Karl’s brown eyes came wide awake. He floated his rock into the air and tucked it under the green sleeve of his left arm as they ran together through the hallway. “Let’s split up,” he suggested, “I’ll go wake up Rick, you go get Stacy.”
“And we’ll meet up under the gatehouse if not before,” Vincent immediately voiced next.
“Agreed.”
In his mind, he hurried to remember where Stacy’s quarters were, and had to stop and run back the way he came once he realized he had just passed the hall that led there. This time he tried to be more deliberate in how he roused Stacy, but was unable to conceal his excitement as he knocked, much less as he spoke. “Stacy, it’s me, Vincent. Stan saw the same man again on campus, trying to steal something else. I think it’s in the best interest of our investigation to pursue him before he gets away.”
The instant of silence seemed much longer than it actually was.
“Just a minute,” he heard her say.
Vincent paced in earnest until a few moments later when Stacy opened the door and came out. She fell in beside him as they raced through the hall. “Where is he?” She asked.
“Stan and Craig are following him right now as we speak,” he explained hurriedly, “they promised to leave a trail for us so we can catch up.”
“I just hope no one else sees it,” she remarked, “what about Rick and Karl?”
“They already know, and if they’re ahead of us, then they’re waiting under the gatehouse.”
“Let’s be quick then.”
Stacy gripped the hem of her blue dress in one hand and they both ran through the halls and down the steps as quickly as they could. Their footsteps scraped and patted the stone beneath them in a staccato of quick succession, and the walls passed by in a blur. Near the bottom of the last step, Stacy lost her balance and Vincent had to catch her in his arms to keep her from falling. Some of her brown hair whipped in his face, filling his lungs with the scent of lavender while her soft breasts pressed up against his firm chest almost like they were hugging for a moment. Vincent was already hot from the exertion and the contact only made him warmer. It was inappropriate yet strangely felt nice.
“I’m alright,” she said, regaining her footing, “let’s keep going.” He released her and she brushed her hair out of her face as they ran on.
Stacy was not at all an unattractive woman. He had to scream to himself in his mind to quit being lewd. It was only an accident; his heart belonged to Jessica, and right now he had bigger things to worry about.
They passed through the dining hall at top speed and started going out the tunnel-like passage to exit the keep. Light orbs spaced evenly on the sides flashed by quickly in their vision and soon Vincent found himself pulling on one of the heavy metal doors to help Stacy get out first. The sound of his loud breathing reverberated off the solid, cold surface. Once in the courtyard, he dashed onward to catch up with her. In a matter of moments, they rendezvoused with Rick and Karl under the gatehouse.
They both looked at Vincent expectantly. Rick was so alert and awake that one couldn’t even tell that he had been sleeping. His red robes were smooth and unwrinkled, and he seemed eager for action. He already had fire in his blue eyes even if there was none yet at his fingertips. When Vincent said nothing, he became impatient. “I don’t see him. Why are we out here?”
In his haste, Vincent had forgotten to tell that part to Karl and thus Rick. “Stan and Craig are shadowing his footsteps. They’re leaving us a trail of some sort to follow. Keep your eyes open for it. I told them not to engage until he leads us to their camp.”
“Alright, let’s go then,” Rick said, anxiously twitching his red mustache and turning to leave.
“Wait,” Vincent said quickly, checking his sword to see if it was loose in its scabbard. It was a nervous tick since he would have to do so again later anyway. “I just want to say a few other things.”
“What is it?”
Vincent looked up from his sword handle directly into each of their eyes. “Be prepared to fight. And don’t show them any mercy”-he held each of their gazes to make sure they understood-“mercy will only get you killed.”
“Noted,” Stacy put in.
“Let’s go already!” Karl insisted out of annoyance.
They all started off in a rush with Rick and Stacy on Vincent’s left and Karl on his right. It was dark, and so there were almost no people at all to notice, but Vincent still didn’t think it wise. He cautioned them all to walk fast instead of running since it was a long way, they needed all their strength once they got there, and he didn’t want to startle their quarry who would probably be walking. The others quickly saw his point and cooled their impatient fervor enough to heed it, slowing to a quick, steady gait.
There was a rustling of their clothing as they walked. The night air was becoming cool against Vincent’s face, and he could smell the day’s leftover breath from the grass and trees. They kept going along the paved middle road that led from the keep through the lawns and buildings of the campus and headed straight for the outer gate. Vincent’s mood was darkened by thoughts of another impending life or death battle: one that his friends would now be a part of.
“The nerve of that scum to come back!” Rick remarked in frustration under his red mustache. “I’m going to make him regret it.”
“Let’s be careful though,” Vincent warned. “There’s no telling what we might be walking into.”
“I’m ready for anything,” he replied. Vincent checked his sword again to make sure it was loose in its scabbard, wishing he shared Rick’s confidence.
In the middle of the vine covered stone wall ahead rose a blue iron bar gate that was taller than the wall. The iron rods were vertically arranged; there were a few flat crossbeams at several points along its height, and at the top there was an arc across the center where it was split down the middle. To the right of the gate, an old peasant man sat on a wooden stool. He took a bite on a loaf of bread in his hand and chewed on it while he watched the four of them approaching. Vincent knew that this was the gatekeeper and that he possessed a key that would open the lock.
“What’s this about?” He asked in a weary voice after swallowing a mouthful.
“Please open the gate?” Stacy asked nicely. “We need to leave.”
“I’m not supposed to open the gate so much after dark.”
“You already let three other people out!” Rick exclaimed.
The old man looked surprised at Rick’s knowledge but held up both his hands, including the one holding the bread, to try to calm him. “Now wait just a minute. That was one man going home late and two wizard boys who said they would be back by now.”
Vincent decided to confirm their target. “The man you let out, did he have dark hair? Like mine, only straight?” The old man nodded. “Did he have faint dark splotches under his eyes? Were his clothes a little too tight?”
“Yup, he lives in the city. He is a servant here at the keep.”
Karl was getting far less tolerant of this interference. He held his hand up and floated his large flat rock above it. “He is a dangerous criminal, you dolt!” His voice went even louder, angrier, and more desperate. “Now open the gate before I crack your skull!”
The old man nearly leapt out of his clothes, dropping his bread. He rose and scrambled to the gate as he fumbled in his left pocket for the key. He found it and then nervously worked it into the keyhole, shaking and having trouble getting it open.
�
��Open the gate now!” Karl shouted to speed him along. The old man jumped and finally was able to twist the key. Vincent would have felt sorry for him and the fright he was getting from his cousin, but there was much at stake and they didn’t have time for this.
The arc was divided in halves when the old man swung one large gate open with a loud, grating creak. “There you are,” he said quickly.
A scowl on his face, Karl tucked the rock under his arm once more and went out first, followed by Rick and Stacy. Vincent went out last behind the others. “Don’t let him back in,” he reminded. The other only nodded. The gate began to noisily squeak as it closed shut with a loud clank followed by a click.
After they went out the gate, they were immediately shrouded by darkness except for the dim outline of the dirt road ahead. It was a cloudy night save for what could be seen along the western horizon. In the distance, Vincent could see lights from torches in the city downhill and to their left. Up ahead, one side of the mountains and spruce treetops was black while the other was partially revealed by the fading light from the western sky. Tall dead grass on either side of the road swayed and undulated with the wind, barely noticeable if not for the sound and the motion.
They walked hurriedly with Karl furthest on the left, Rick beside him, and Vincent furthest right with Stacy in between. Perhaps it was because the old man had put him in a foul mood but Karl was becoming less amused. “I don’t see any kind of trail, Vincent,” he complained. “How are we supposed to find it in the dark?”
“I could light the way for us,” Rick offered.
“Bad idea,” Vincent pointed out, “we might as well just yell at them that we’re coming.”
“There are ways of making visible trails even at night,” Stacy said, “maybe this means they’re in trouble.”
“I hope not,” Karl put in.
Vincent wasn’t turning back. “They didn’t tell me what kind of trail it would be. Just keep looking.” They walked on quickly, and Vincent strained his eyes so much to try to see it in the dark that they became watery several times.
A short while later, Stacy halted. “Wait, I think I see something.”
“What? What do you see?” Karl asked.
Stacy lifted the hem of her blue dress to crouch down, and Vincent quickly crouched down beside her. “Right here,” she said, “on the road. It’s hard to see, but it’s there.” Vincent saw what she was pointing at: a thin stream of faint dust specks sparkling in the dirt. They were brighter than any one would normally find in soil, but the darkness was keeping them well concealed. It was obvious to him that this was indeed the trail that Stan and Craig meant for them to follow.
“I still don’t see anything,” Rick voiced, standing over them.
Vincent pulled out his knife and held the tip close to the ground. He then used his power to make a small, flickering flame at its tip that only they could see. When he did, the sparkling dust within a short distance ahead and behind them lit up dramatically. “How about now?”
“I see it.”
Vincent shut the flame off and their eyes readjusted.
Karl was dubious. “Stacy, do you think you’ll be able to see it well enough the whole way there. Otherwise it’s not much use to us.”
“Right now it’s only following the road, I think I can manage.” She looked up again at the sky before looking back down. “In an hour or two it’s going to start raining. We better hurry before it gets washed away.”
Among other things, trained atmomancers were notorious for accurately predicting the weather. No forecast of theirs like this ever proved false, and so Vincent and the others immediately hurried along at Stacy’s insistence without giving it a second thought, greatly fearing the cost of delay.
Crickets chirped from within the tall dry grass on each side of the road as they rushed past. The night eventually grew so dark that not even Stacy couldn’t see the sparkles anymore. Vincent was forced to agree to let Rick use a tiny speck of flame to light the trail of dust, provided he kept it as small as possible and hovering very close to the ground. This solved their problem but kept them each worrying if this magic use would be sensed from afar.
The dust trail never once put them on an adjacent road that led to the city. Instead, they were left running or walking quickly along roads that passed by numerous farmsteads, crop fields, and open terrain. Past these, it hooked a right on another road that led them near the forests along the mountains. Vincent and the others went on swiftly, hoping soon to catch up with the two boys while dreading that the dust trail, their only guide, would shortly be washed away by the rain like wet sugar.
Vincent was becoming concerned for Stan and Craig. He would have thought that as fast as he and his friends were going, they would eventually see their backs, but they never did. He hoped that for the time being they were staying safely hidden.
The area around Gadrale Keep, the city, and it’s outlying farms lay on the borderlands of Ryga, and the dust continued on the road only for as far as the road went. Once the road ended, it was harder to find. They had to push aside tall grass and brush before they could even catch a glimpse of it.
Their plight was increased further when the trail abruptly turned around a large rock and went straight into the forest. It was so dark that Rick’s tiny flicker of light was also the only means of seeing anything at all, and yet it was also an uncomfortably bright beacon should their foes be close and happen to look their way. In a hushed whisper, he assured them that if they needed to hide, he would be able to put it out instantly. After that, they all kept silent and no one said a word.
They each hated this in their own way though Vincent was unsure if the others were quite as fearful or sullen about it. He supposed he had a right to be; he had experienced mortal danger before in a way they had not. However, their choices were limited: it was this or be unable to proceed altogether.
Either because of the oppressive, chilling silence or because of some deeper instinct within him, Vincent knew they had to be close, and so he checked his sword again to make sure that it was clear in its scabbard. He kept his right hand gripping the hilt when he did, and kept his left hand holding onto the top of the scabbard for a faster draw. Seeing this, Stacy gave him a wider berth, just in case.
The forest was eerily empty of all sound as if every living thing nearby had chosen to burrow in someplace else for the night, perhaps because they loathed the presence of what was ahead. Vincent wished that so much as a bug would make some sound just to calm his nerves, and maybe to help hide any sounds of their passing, but none did. The group proceeded even slower because of this, going as quietly as they could so as not to be heard. Vincent knew that a deadly attack could come from any direction, at any time, and his nerves were on edge. It was crucial that they hear their enemy and that their enemy not hear them.
Like his friends, Vincent was being overly methodical in how he traversed the terrain. He watched his feet carefully at times, making long, slow, awkward steps to avoid jostling loose rocks, which were occasionally stacked close together. Later, he had to fan out further to the right and put his back to a pine trunk in order to give Stacy enough room to squeeze by and brush up against a bush as quietly and gracefully as possible. He imagined that Rick and Karl were facing similar difficulties on the other side. They were all anxious to get there, but not anxious to be discovered prematurely, and were grateful once they were past the obstacle. Rick’s speck of light showed the way for them once again when they were.
Suddenly, he heard a twig snap to his left and froze. His breath caught in his throat, and he whipped his head over to look in the direction it came from. To his relief, it was only Karl, who had taken a misstep. Rick and Stacy quietly let their breaths out while Vincent shared a look with Karl and formed a tight-lipped, humorless smile while he shook his head in disappointment. Karl gestured silently but quickly and emphatically with one hand toward the ground, and his message was clear; Vincent understood perfectly well that he was t
rying his best.
After that, there was not a single leaf rustle or small creak from a dead branch that they ignored, even if it was they that had brushed or stepped on it. Amidst his own tension, the pleasant smell of pine filled his nostrils but did not calm his unease. Often, he was only barely aware that the fresh smells of the forest even existed.
Something was waiting for them. His apprehension was such that when Vincent heard a faint hoot from an owl far in the distance back the way they came, he oddly felt a small amount of relief. The feeling passed quickly when all went strangely quiet again and he had to concentrate on dangers he could not see. Dangerous things unknown to him.
Things hiding in the dark.
* * *
Eventually when Vincent thought he would be driven close to madness, something finally came into view. In the distance, amidst the blackness of a forest floor shaded even from moonlight, they could see the faint orange glow from a campfire up ahead. Rick’s tiny flame could not obscure it from their eyes, and their group came instantly to a halt. It was very dim. If it were daylight, the campfire would be invisible at this distance; the darkness gave it a luminescence it would otherwise not have. The black outlines of pines and firs, twisted branches living and dead, seemed to claw out into the night. A quiet, gentle breeze carried the acrid scent of wood smoke. Vincent guessed that the fire had been burning for some time.
They were about to continue creeping toward it when Vincent snatched a glimpse in his peripheral vision of Stacy seizing Rick’s arm by the wrist before he could move or extinguish the tiny speck of flame that had been guiding them. She pointed down at the ground and Rick froze. Karl stopped instantly in his tracks and joined the others in staring down at the dust trail. Vincent looked carefully and intently down at Rick’s fire speck illuminating the tiny portion of the forest floor and noticed right away what was troubling Stacy.
There was blood. Not much, only a few drops, hardly even a small splatter to be found, yet there was enough to know that violence had been committed. None of them were naïve enough to think that it had happened by an accidental scraping against a branch. And they all knew who it had happened to. Rick floated the speck of flame closer toward Vincent’s boots, and more of it was revealed amidst the darkness. Whatever had happened, had happened in more than one place. Rick floated the point of light slightly ahead of their group, and they were able to make out only a few more drops alongside the trail of sparkling dust.
Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening Page 17