by David Gaider
But it didn't. It even held the weight of the golem, and before long they were inside. Cole knew the Pit like the back of his hand, and had led them unerringly through the darkness. There were so many twists and turns, so many collapsed passages and remnants of fortifications blocking the way, they would never have found their way without him.
When they finally reached the area near the dungeons, they discovered it exactly as reported: teeming with templars. At least twenty were in the guard station, with more just outside. Half the mages must be locked up, if not all— the Lord Seeker would have needed to reopen the cells on the lower levels, which could easily hold twice the tower's population if required.
They could have assaulted the dungeons right then. Evangeline didn't relish the idea of fighting her former comrades again, but she'd be foolish to believe what she did now wouldn't end in blood spilled. Regardless, it wasn't the templars that worried them. All it would take was one of those templars pulling the wrong lever and the defenses at the dungeon entrance would be activated. No one would be getting in or out.
That presented a problem.
"I'm simply worried about Rhys," Wynne whispered, chewing her lip nervously. "I wish we'd stayed with Cole and Leliana. Rhys is hurt. Who will heal him?"
"He'll be fine," Evangeline assured her. "We're doing our part."
They crept up the long flight of stairs toward the main floor of the tower. Wynne kept her staff dark, so they needed to move carefully. Even at this time of night, it was still possible for a templar to come or go. All it would take was one, and all their efforts would be for naught.
They were lucky. No one appeared, and when they entered the tower proper it was deathly quiet. What guards were awake would be stationed at the great hall entrance or in the mage commons— that would be standard procedure, though to night she'd half expected it to be an armed camp with guards at every doorway and stairwell. She was glad to see she was wrong.
"Shoddy security," the golem sniffed.
"They’re not as worried about attacks from within, it seems."
"Why not? That's exactly what they should be worried about."
"The mages are kept confined. The tower is too large for templars to be everywhere at once. If we wait around long enough, however, we're bound to encounter a patrol." She waved them forward, and slowly they ascended the central staircase.
They passed several levels without incident. T en, as they neared those occupied by the mages, they began to hear muffled voices. Evangeline peeked over the edge of the banister and saw her suspicions confirmed: an entire group of templars occupying the commons. They were not on alert— several of them sat around, playing cards by the light of a single glowlamp. The others conversed in whispers or nodded off in a corner. Not a single mage was in sight.
The Lord Seeker would have their heads to see them so relaxed, but that wasn't what was important. They wouldn't be able to pass by on the stairs without the risk of being spotted.
"Wynne, could you . . . ?"
"Yes."
The old woman held out a hand and concentrated. A faint glow coalesced over it, growing stronger and brighter until Evangeline became alarmed. Then Wynne opened her eyes. "Hush," she told the shimmering orb floating before her . . . and it dimmed in response. "Do you understand what I ask of you?"
The orb bounced in a way that could have been acknowledgment, and then it flew up into the air. There it split into a dozen tinier orbs, and these were so faint they could barely be spotted in the darkness. All at once they scattered, floating toward the templars.
"What are they going to do?" Evangeline whispered nervously.
"Just watch."
The orbs sailed over the templars' heads, with not one of them bothering to look up. Fortunate, to say the least, though why would they? Then the orbs split up, each heading toward a different door . . . and passed through the crack at the bottom.
They waited in the staircase anxiously, each moment making it more likely that someone else would come along and complicate matters immensely. They didn't want to get into a pitched battle. Not here, not yet.
T en, just as one of the men threw down his cards with a triumphant shout, loud popping noises began to sound behind the doors. They sounded like small explosions. The reaction from the templars was immediate. They leapt to their feet, stumbling about in shock as they drew their swords. Several of them ran to the doors, throwing them open even as the fearful shouts from the mages beyond rang out.
It was enough. The cacophony of noise and confusion provided the cover they needed to slip past. Now all they had to do was hope the commotion drew others only from below, and not above.
"I hope that doesn't end with anyone being harmed," Evangeline whispered as they drew far enough away from the commons. "There are mostly apprentices in those dormitories, and with tensions being as they are . . ."
"I hope so, too," Wynne said.
There was nothing more to discuss. They entered the upper levels of the tower, normally reserved for the officers. Evangeline's own quarters were here— or would be, if the Lord Seeker hadn't reassigned them. Perhaps Arnaud had triumphantly moved in? A part of her wanted to check. There was only one thing she wanted: her father's book. But she reminded herself it was too risky. A keepsake of a life that was behind her now.
It was quiet as the grave, with barely a single glowlamp to light their way. Every footstep seemed like a thunderclap. She felt certain someone was going to hear them.
And then they turned a corner on the staircase . . . and someone blocked their way.
Wynne gasped in surprise, and the golem lurched forward with stony fists raised to attack— only to be stopped by Evangeline. The person before them was an elven woman, her grey robes and the sunburst mark on her forehead marking her as Tranquil. She stood on the dark landing, frozen . . . but not in fear. Merely the calm curiosity of one who had encountered something unexpected.
A beat passed in silent confrontation, with nobody making a move. "Do you know who I am?" Evangeline asked.
"I do, Knight- Captain," the Tranquil answered. "You have been declared an enemy of the Circle by Lord Seeker Lambert."
"Are you going to warn the tower we're here?"
She hesitated. "Do you intend to harm anyone?"
"Only if they harm us first."
The elf nodded slowly, as if this answer was acceptable. "The Lord Seeker was delivered an urgent summons to the Grand Cathedral, and left with many templars. He declared he would not be gone long. What ever it is you plan, I suggest you be quick."
Evangeline exchanged a glance with Wynne. It appeared Leliana had been successful in convincing the Divine to aid them after all. That explained the emptiness of the tower. "Why are you telling us this?" she asked. "I've never known the Tranquil to do anything but what they're told."
The woman tilted her head curiously, as if the answer should be obvious. "Obedience is prudent. To interpret it as a lack of free will would be an error." She turned to leave, and then paused. "Good luck, Knight- Captain." And with that she walked away, vanishing into the shadows.
"That's it?" Shale asked incredulously. "We just let it go?"
Wynne nodded, her expression almost sad. "Yes," she said.
Evangeline had to agree. There was no reason to harm the woman, after all. Still, the encounter made her wonder. Was this tantamount to tacit approval, a sign that even the Tranquil found the actions of the order objectionable? She'd always wondered what the Tranquil might do if they ever found a reason, somewhere in those logical minds of theirs, to rebel. What would that look like?
What ever the case, they had no time to waste. Evangeline led Wynne and Shale up the final flight of stairs, more urgently now. This was a walk she remembered well— it wasn't so long ago she'd ascended these steps with First Enchanter Edmonde at her side, seeking the very same thing.
They reached the very top of the tower . . . the foyer containing the massive vault door that led to the phylactery cham
ber. It was as she remembered, and by the vault stood a single templar just as before. This time, however, the man had his sword drawn. He held it nervously, sweat pouring down his brow as he found himself confronting not only another templar but an archmage, her staff ablaze with power, and a looming golem of stone and crystal.
"Stop! Who goes there?" he cried, his voice quivering. Evangeline recognized him. The name escaped her, but this was a young man— barely recruited a year ago and still full of dreams and ideals. Terrified as he was, still he stood his ground and was prepared to defend his post.
"You know who I am," Evangeline said, drawing her own sword. He shifted uneasily as she stepped into the foyer, his eyes flickering between Shale and Wynne behind her. He didn't lower his blade an inch, though its shakiness proved he was no swordsman. She could easily disarm him. In fact, she could easily skewer him, if she wanted.
"You shouldn't be here, Knight- Captain."
"Yet here I am."
That answer didn't please him. The young templar backed away farther, until he bumped into the vault. That made him jump, and for a moment Evangeline thought that might propel him into attacking— but he controlled himself, just enough.
"Listen to me carefully," she said. Her blade remained steady, and followed him wherever he moved. "You're not going to die here. You're going to leave your post, run down those stairs, and tell the templars where we are. Do it as quickly and as loudly as you can."
He licked his lips nervously. "But . . ."
"It's your duty to raise the alarm. Not to fight against impossible odds."
He took an exploratory step toward her, sword shaking even more than before. Evangeline backed away, to allow him past. That appeared to encourage him, and he took two more steps toward Wynne and Shale. He swung his sword around to point it at them, on the verge of panic.
Wynne stared at him calmly. The magic swirling around her white staff ebbed, and she too stood aside. The golem appeared far more reluctant. It glowered at the young templar before grudgingly making way. The path to the stairs was now clear.
He moved slowly, in fits and starts and clearly becoming more certain this was all some trick. Nothing happened. When he got to the doorway he suddenly bolted, rushing down the stairs and shouting so loudly his cries echoed. Evangeline listened, and sighed.
That was it, then. Soon it would begin.
"Let's get this over with," Wynne said. She briskly walked over to the plate on the far side of the vault, placing her hand upon it. Evangeline did the same on the other side. The key to entering the phylactery chamber: one templar and one mage, working in tandem. Evangeline only hoped the Lord Seeker hadn't somehow managed to change it.
He hadn't. Both of them channeled power into their plates, the reddish glow changing into blue . . . and then the vault began to shake. Its mechanisms turned loudly, each metal layer of the door shifting until they aligned. Far below, down the stairs, shouts could be heard.
"It should have killed him," Shale muttered.
Evangeline didn't respond. When the vault's handle revealed itself, she ran over and pulled. The massive door swung open with a shuddering groan. Beyond lay the phylactery chamber, just as she'd seen it last: great glittering pillars reaching up to the very roof of the tower, each holding hundreds of red vials— the blood of every mage in the White Spire, and many more besides. The chamber pulsed with its dark energy, sending a shiver of dread down Evangeline's spine.
The three of them walked in, forgetting for the moment about the growing commotion down the stairs. Wynne stared up at the pillars, eyes wide. Perhaps she had never seen a phylactery chamber before? She was either amazed or repulsed, it was difficult to tell.
Evangeline approached the large central pillar. "I think I remember where Rhys's vial is located. Hopefully the Tranquil put it back where it—"
"Wait." Wynne studied the nearest pillar. She reached out with a hand, running her fingers along the glass vials . . . and slowly her expression hardened. There was rage there, a towering anger that grew stronger by the minute.
"We can't wait, Wynne."
"Even if we find Rhys's phylactery, the First Enchanters have theirs here as well. Freeing them will do nothing if they can be tracked down again."
Evangeline felt uneasy. "What do you propose?"
Wynne looked over at Shale. "Tear it down," she said. "Tear it all down."
The golem might have smiled. Eagerly it approached the central pillar. For a moment, Evangeline wondered if she should try to stop it. Destroy the phylacteries? It was . . . unthinkable. Or was it? She had always felt leery of the templars using blood magic simply because it was convenient. And what would be the purpose of backing down now?
She'd made her choice. They all had.
Evangeline watched as Shale reached the pillar. It stared up briefly, and then it clutched its hands together . . . like a great hammer it struck the pillar with tremendous force. The sound of shattering glass was ear-splitting. The entire column shook, whole shelves of vials emptying their contents and raining down upon the floor.
Shale swung again, and this time the pillar moved. Evangeline could feel the force of the blow in her bones. The twisting metal staircase that circled the pillar suddenly detached itself, first bending almost in two before finally crashing down. It just missed the golem, sending up a cloud of debris. The other pillars began to shake now, as well, each of them shedding vials by the dozens.
With a great cry, the golem smashed the pillar once more. This time it gave way. It teetered slowly, the last of its phylacteries showering the golem in red glass, and then it toppled. With a thunderous groan, it struck one of the surrounding pillars, and that one collapsed as well. It fell against the one next to it, and that one fell against another . . . a chain reaction had begun that had the entire chamber collapsing. Portions of the roof were even caving in.
Both Wynne and Evangeline backed out into the foyer, covering their faces as a cloud of dust billowed out of the chamber. It almost felt as if the entire tower was going to fall down around their ears. Evangeline felt dumbstruck; the magnitude of the destruction was awe- inspiring.
As the clamor began to dim, they stared into what remained beyond the vault door. Very little could be seen except darkness and dust. It seemed impossible that anything remained intact therein, or that the golem could have survived. Yet even as they watched, a hulking silhouette approached, each step crunching in shattered glass.
Shale appeared, a stone monstrosity completely covered in sparkling motes of glass . . . and grinning widely. "That was strangely satisfying," it said.
Now the sounds of booted feet could be heard, rushing up the stairs and accompanied by the shouts of men. Many men.
Evangeline prepared herself. Now there would be blood.
Cole's legs were getting cramped. He waited in the shadows, not far from the entrance to the dungeons, and watched.
He wouldn't have needed to stay hidden at all if it wasn't for the fact he was with a stranger: a woman with short, red hair that Old Woman had called Sister Leliana. He supposed that meant she was a priest? If so, she didn't look like one. She was dressed in coppery chain mail, with black leather boots that reached almost to her thighs and a longbow around her shoulders more ornate than anything he'd ever seen. She looked like someone who fought as easily as she breathed. Were there priests like that? He had no idea.
Since Evangeline and the others left, the Sister and Cole hadn't spoken a word. She crouched next to him, her gaze intent on the templars. He wanted to ask her questions. How did she know Old Woman? Did she know Rhys? He vaguely remembered her standing by the woman with the tall hat on, in the holy place that stunk of perfume, but she'd looked different then.
But it didn't really matter, did it? He wasn't here to ask questions— he was here to save Rhys. When Cole saw him in his cell, he'd been pale and barely coherent. The wound in his stomach had looked bad. Cole didn't know anything about medicine, or healing spells, or he'd have tr
ied to help. If Rhys had died while he was gone . . .
Finally, after what seemed like hours, it began.
First there was a sound like thunder, high overhead and so distant Cole wasn't certain he heard it at all. Then it got louder, and a tremor shook the ceiling— just enough to dislodge clumps of dust and alarm the templars. They jumped up all at once, drawing their swords and shouting at each other. Before they could do anything, another templar came running down the stairs, so quickly he almost tripped.
"We're under attack!" he screamed.
"What? By whom?" said one of the others. "Where's the Lord Seeker?"
"I don't know!"
There was a moment of confusion, followed by another sound from far above: an explosion this time. That jolted them into action. One of the templars took command, ordering three men to remain behind as he gathered up the others and ran off. The sound of their boots on the stairs was growing faint when the Sister finally shifted.
She unslung the longbow and notched an arrow, but didn't draw it. She seemed displeased. "That's not good," she whispered. "They left three. I'd hoped for less."
"Is three too much?"
"It's not that. It will only take one to activate the defenses, and killing all three quickly enough may be . . . tricky." She gave the slightest smile as she raised her bow, aiming carefully as she drew back the arrow.
Cole put his hand on her shoulder. "I can do it," he said.
The Sister looked at him curiously, but didn't object. So he stood up. He'd never hurt a templar before. He wasn't going to let them keep him from saving Rhys, however, and Evangeline had said they wouldn't have much time.
Clutching his dagger tightly, Cole crept down the hallway toward the guard station. He reached the first templar, an older man who stood near the entrance. He had tanned, weathered skin and a bushy black mustache flecked with grey. The man looked right through Cole, staring nervously in the direction of the stairs. At every faint sound of battle he twitched.