Asunder (48 page)

            "You promised as much at our last conclave," Fiona said. Her words weren't harsh, however . . . Rhys thought she sounded weary more than anything. "And look where we are. We know how you feel, Wynne, but the Chantry can't wait to decide when it's safe to do what's right."

            "And the Libertarians are going to decide for us?" one of the first enchanters asked, a heavyset bald man with an Ander accent.

            The mage with the braided beard frowned. "
I' d
like to know if this Pharamond actually found something significant, or if this is all just so much smoke."

            "He managed to heal himself," Adrian interjected, "and now the templars have made him Tranquil again. What does that tell you? They don't care what we learn, or what the Rite does or doesn't do. All they care about is keeping us controlled."

            The first enchanters appeared to accept her words, nodding uneasily. Wynne looked upset, perhaps because she sensed the same thing Rhys did— the mood was swinging in the Grand Enchanter's favor. Even the ones whom Rhys assumed would speak up in Wynne's defense remained silent. First Enchanter Edmonde was an Aequitarian like her, for instance, but he simply scowled and rubbed his long beard.

            Rhys saw Evangeline watching nervously as more templars left the great hall. Only a dozen remained clustered near the door, eyeing the proceedings with a dangerous air. The sounds of many booted feet could be heard from the halls. "I know my opinion isn't welcome here," Evangeline told the mages, "but what ever you're going to do, I suggest you do it quickly."

            Edmonde seemed surprised. "You're not going to stop us?"

            "The conclave has always existed to allow the mages to decide their own path," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "So decide."

            Nobody spoke. Wynne looked pensive, but Rhys imagined she'd already said all she could— likewise for the Grand Enchanter. Everyone already knew what everyone else thought, and knew the issue at hand. They merely appeared reluctant to step off the precipice.

            "If I may speak?" he quietly asked. Surprisingly, they all turned and paid attention. Even the Grand Enchanter. "I know I'm not one of you . . ."

            "We know who you are, Rhys," the bald- headed first enchanter said. "Wynne has spoken of you frequently. For a Libertarian, your views have always proven moderate. Speak, and we will listen."

            Rhys licked his lips nervously. "The Grand Enchanter isn't wrong," he said. "This is the only chance you've had to gather, and it's the only one you'll get. The Lord Seeker will consider this vote treason no matter how it goes. So there's only one question left." His gaze met Adrian's, and he could almost read her thoughts:
Do it. Say it. Convince them.
"What do you want to tell the rest of the Circle? Will you try not to make things worse, and trust the Divine, or will you make a stand?"

            There was a crash outside. The templars were coming— all of them, by the sound of it. He could see in the eyes of the mages that they knew exactly what Rhys meant: the die was cast. There was no turning back now.

            "I put forward the motion," the Grand Enchanter said urgently. "Who says aye?"

            But it was too late. All heads turned as Lord Seeker Lambert marched through the great hall's doors, a crowd of templars at his back. All had swords drawn. Three men who wore the same black armor as the Lord Seeker walked at his side— more seekers, Rhys realized. The thunderous noise of their entrance was like death approaching.

            The templars and seekers spread out, surrounding the mages in a heartbeat, as the Lord Seeker strode toward them. The cold fury in his expression left no mistake as to his intent. "This conclave is at an end," he declared. "Like children, you cannot even be trusted to do as you are commanded. I will not have treason under this roof."

            Grand Enchanter Fiona stepped ahead of the others, almost protectively. Considering how short the elven woman was compared to the Lord Seeker, it might have seemed laughable were her incredible power not obvious. Her staff flared brightly, mirroring the outrage in her eyes. "This is no treason. The Divine gave us leave to hold conclave, and you've no right to tell us what we may or may not do with it."

            "The Divine is a fool," he snarled at her. "As are all of you, both for thinking this might even be permitted . . . as well as for listening to the words of a murderer." It took Rhys a moment to realize the man was referring to him. "The Tranquil, Pharamond, was found dead this morning. Stabbed to death. I took the liberty of having Enchanter Rhys's chambers searched, and found this."

            He tossed something on the floor between them: a knife with a black hilt, the smear of blood on its blade clearly visible. It wasn't Rhys's, nor did it look anything like Cole's dagger. Rhys had never seen it before. "But . . . that's not mine," he objected.

            "Of course you would say that."

            "It's true!"

            Evangeline stepped forward. "I told you who was responsible for the murders, my lord. If you'd listen to me—"

            "I did listen. Now I have evidence that proves you were mistaken."

            "There must be another explanation!" she insisted. "Someone placed that in his room, they're trying to—"

            "Be silent!" the Lord Seeker shouted. "Do not make this any worse for yourself, stupid girl! We are dealing with a blood mage. If you are not under his influence then you have allowed your infatuation with these mages to cloud your mind." He gestured to the templars. "Take Enchanter Rhys into custody."

            "No!" Wynne pulled Rhys back by the arm. "This is beyond reason! The Divine shall hear of this, I swear it!"

            Rhys felt bewildered. He knew the Lord Seeker had it in for him, but to go to such lengths? As he stood there, the templars closed in with their blades at the ready. The mages responded by brandishing their staves, the room crackling with mana. They spread out, facing off against the templars— a battle was imminent.

            The Lord Seeker seemed unimpressed. "I am done listening to the Divine," he announced. "She will lead this land into chaos it can ill afford. All of you have a choice: stand down and return to your towers, unharmed, or be treated as the rebels you clearly are."

            "No, it is
you
who have a choice," Grand Enchanter Fiona warned. "Leave us to our lawful conclave. Allow us to investigate this claim against Enchanter Rhys in a rational manner. Or face the consequences."

            His eyebrows shot up. "Threats?" He looked at Evangeline. "And what of you? Do you stand with these traitors, or will you salvage some shred of sanity?"

            Evangeline clenched her jaw. She drew her sword. "The only insanity I see here is that of a man who refuses to see what he does is wrong."

            "So be it."

            With a wave of his hand, the templars attacked. Even prepared as the mages were, they weren't ready for the wave of disruption unleashed— the powers of a templar are uniquely designed to counter a mage's spells, and here that counted for everything. Blades came down against magical shields, shattering them and sending blinding sparks flying about the hall.

            It did not stop the mages. The Grand Enchanter shouted in rage, unleashing a ball of blinding energy at the nearest group of templars. Several raised their own shields in time, but that didn't stop them from being scattered as the ball exploded. The concussive wave shook the entire chamber.

            Templars charged toward Rhys. A nearby first enchanter raised her hands. "I surrender!" she cried in a panic. Whether the templars didn't hear her over the cacophony or thought she readied an attack, he couldn't tell. Either way, the first templar that reached her ran her through.

            The surprised look on the young man's face said he hadn't expected that. He watched in horror as the mage stared down, confused by the sword now piercing her chest. As she opened her mouth to speak, blood spurted out. Quietly she slid off his blade and slumped to the floor, a dark stain spreading on her robes.

            The reaction was electrifying. A cry went out as more mages saw what had happened, and suddenly they were no longer merely defending themselves. Rhys heard Adrian scream in fury, and deadly fire rained down on the templars— men burned, screaming horribly. The entire chamber exploded in chaos, a cyclone of lightning and smoke summoned in their very midst. The templars attacked indiscriminately now, hacking down any mage they could reach.

            The confusion was too much to follow. Rhys ducked his head as a large chunk of masonry fell from the ceiling, just missing him. Another templar charged out of the smoke, uttering a war cry with his sword raised high. Rhys held out his staff and unleashed a bolt of force, knocking the man back into the fray.

            He turned and saw Wynne cradling the fallen woman in her arms. She desperately summoned healing spirits to mend the woman's injuries, but the magic she poured into the body was pointless. The woman was dead and gone. Wynne shook her head in horror, tears running down her face. "No! No, this is all wrong! That can't be happening!"

            Rhys tried to pull her away, but she resisted. So he grabbed Wynne by the shoulders and dragged her up, forcing her to look at him. She did so, staring with wide eyes, perhaps not comprehending what he was doing. "We have to get out of here!" he shouted.

            Evangeline appeared out of nowhere. He noticed blood on her sword, and from her grim expression it was clear she hated all of this. She saw the two of them and ran over. "The front gates!" she cried, wincing as another explosion rocked the great hall. "They’re sealed, but you can blow them open!"

            Evangeline grabbed his hand and pulled him along, and he pulled Wynne. Together the three of them stumbled through the battle. Spirits swirled about, their ethereal forms attacking templars without any defense against them. The Veil had been torn asunder by the magic ripping through the hall, and it made Rhys uneasy. How long before one of the mages gave in to rage and despair and allowed a demon to possess them? Then the battle would become something much, much worse.

            "And where do you think you're going?"

            Fear clutched his heart as Rhys saw the Lord Seeker standing before them, a glittering obsidian blade held casually before him. He appeared undisturbed by the chaos, grey eyes focused on them and only them.

            "Get out of our way, Lambert," Evangeline warned.

            "No one is leaving this room," he said, his tone cold as ice. "Not a single one." A dozen templars appeared behind him, and Rhys saw more coming. Mages were scattering now, some trying desperately to flee even as they were cut down. Others were being overwhelmed, their mana disrupted until they couldn't cast a single spell. The mages were losing.

            Wynne pushed herself away from Rhys, wiping the tears from her face. "You won't get away with this!" she cried, her voice hoarse.

            "Get away with bringing a murderer to justice? With stopping a new rebellion in its tracks? The Maker's work is being done today, nothing else." He strode forward, summoning power into his sword as the other templars surrounded them.

            Evangeline raised her blade with a look of determination. Wynne, too, gripped her staff and prepared for battle. Rhys couldn't let it happen. He dug deep down into the reserves of mana within him, deeper than he ever had before. With a cry of rage, he held up his staff and unleashed a torrent of magic.

            The wave of force that expanded from him sent every templar flying back, as if they weighed nothing. The entire building shook, and for a single moment Rhys felt exhilarated. The power . . . it was like nothing he had ever tapped into before. It flowed through his veins, filling him up.

            It would have been so easy to do more. The Veil was fragile, and he could sense the demons, lurking just beyond and eager to enter this world. A single call would give him all the power he needed. He could take many of these templars with him, one last hurrah they would never forget.

            Forbidden power at his fingertips, beckoning.

            With a shout of exquisite agony, Rhys pulled back from the brink. He turned to Wynne and Evangeline, his eyes flashing with power. "Go!" he shouted. They stared at him in shock, but neither budged. "GO!" he roared.

            Without waiting, he spun around to face the templars. A sparkling wall of pure force rose up between them, the men slamming against it uselessly. Holding up his staff , Rhys summoned a storm of energy, adding it to the maelstrom. He would tear the entire hall down, if he had to, stone by stone.

            The Lord Seeker reached the wall of force. He channeled his own power, shattering it with a single blow of his black sword. Hot pain flashed through Rhys. He fired one magical bolt after another at the Lord Seeker. The man blocked each one, but it was enough to give him pause. His brows knitted in effort as he fought to get closer.

            And then something hit Rhys from behind. A blow to the back of his head, making his vision swim. He lashed out with a spell, flinging the unseen attacker up into the ceiling with enough force to shatter his bones. Then something else slashed at Rhys's side. He unleashed a spell in that direction as well, not even bothering to look.