Free Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) by Alan Ratcliffe

deafening. After a few moments, the Archon raised both hands, and silence fell once again.
    “My Brothers,” he continued, “a toast!” He reached down for his goblet, and raised it high. Others followed suit, and soon the hall was a sea of upraised arms.
    “To enlightenment!” The Archon bellowed. “That the days of man will never again grow dark. To truth, that all may know our wisdom and rejoice.” Several novices took this as their cue and quaffed their drinks, to the chagrin of their seniors. “And to the dread Lord Maldonus, whose dark dominion we live to serve: we, the harbingers of his glorious return.”
    In the confused hubbub that followed this last proclamation, few of the assembled brethren noticed a number of brown-robed figures rise from the benches and slink to the outskirts of the hall.
    His toast concluded, the Archon drained his goblet, and slammed it down upon the table. He sat down, smiling jovially. Elder Tobias was agape. “I beg your pardon?”
    The Archon started laughing, and one or two Brothers chuckled amongst themselves. Clearly the head of their Order, in his cups no doubt, had seen fit to play a prank. “I really am terribly sorry,” he said finally.
    The elder relaxed slightly. “A most amusing toast, I agree Archon, but I hardly think-”
    “Yes, I am most sorry,” the Archon interrupted. “I was speaking the truth when I said you had made impressive progress with the boy, but I’m afraid I must relieve you of the burden of continuing with this work.”
    “My lord?” The elder did not understand what he was hearing. “It is no burden, I assure you. Brother Merryl believes we are coming closer to understanding-”
    “Nevertheless, it is time to put an end to this,” said the Archon, smoothly cutting across the elder once more. “All of it, in fact. Alas, I fear your progress has been rather too impressive, Tobias, but what’s done is done. I just hope the boy hasn’t developed too far to be of use. But I can be more certain of that after he returns with me to the Spire.”
    “Take Cole?” The elder’s face flushed, and not only due to the wine. The Archon’s toast and subsequent words had sobered him like a splash of cold water. “For what purpose?”
    The Archon smiled. “Be assured, elder, nothing that you need be concerned with.” He rose from his seat. “Now, as diverting as this evening has been, we must bring it to a close. And even though you and your colleagues have outlived your usefulness, I really am grateful for all your hard work. I hope that is of some comfort to you during what follows.”
    As Elder Tobias looked on in mute astonishment, the Archon took hold of the green gem hanging from the thick silver chain around his neck. With his other arm outstretched, his eyes screwed shut in concentration.
    The elder felt a slight twinge of pain inside his skull, and several Brothers on the benches were rubbing their heads with surprised expressions. But the sensation passed a moment later. Whatever the Archon had been intending, it had obviously not occurred. Abruptly, his eyes flew open and he stared around the hall, radiating confusion. “Fascinating,” he muttered.
    Every pair of eyes in the hall was fixed on the top table, most wide open in shock. Elder Tobias climbed unsteadily to his feet and smoothed down his robe. “I think that it is high time you left, my lord. I don’t know whether this is a cruel jest at our expense, or if you have actually taken leave of your senses, but in either case I think this visit has run its course.”
    He sensed movement behind him. The gigantic form of Dantes lumbered into the light.
    “Nonsense, the night is only just beginning.” The Archon clicked his fingers. “We’ll just have to try more traditional methods.” With an ominous whisper of steel on leather, one of the Brothers from his party drew a longsword out from the folds of his robe and tossed it toward the top table. Metal fingers snatched it out