The Wrath of the Great Guilds (The Pillars of Reality Book 6)

by Jack Campbell

  Even a Mage could be disturbed by such a thing.

  Beside him, Mari turned to beckon Major Sten and Major Danel to ride close. “My Mage senses something wrong in Danalee,” she said. “Something to do with Mages.”

  Sten gazed back, alarmed. “What should we do?”

  “I must go to the Mage Guild Hall,” Alain said.

  “Not alone, you’re not,” Mari insisted.

  “We can’t go charging through the city,” Sten said.

  “And if you head off on your own,” Major Danel said, “if the daughter isn’t with us, people will notice.”

  “There is something wrong,” Alain said, trying to put force into his voice.

  Sten nodded quickly. “The Danalee militia and police up ahead are acting as greeters and crowd control. I’ll ride up there fast and see if we can swing the procession near the Mage Guild Hall. Will that suffice, Sir Mage?”

  “I do not know,” Alain said. “But it will help.”

  Major Sten kicked his heels into his mount, urging the tired horse into a gallop. Alain watched Sten speak urgently with the militia officers, then trot back to salute him and Mari. “They are concerned to hear that there may be a threat to the city, and will lead our column so it passes close to the plaza surrounding the Mage Guild Hall. Once there, we will await your instructions.”

  The crowds here were very big, even taking into account the size of the city. An unusually large number of watchers were elderly or very young. The reason for that became apparent when Confederation dignitaries greeted Mari, one of them an old man who thanked her on behalf of himself and the others evacuated from Dorcastle. There were two cities’ worth of children and older people in Danalee, its population very recently swelled by those fleeing the expected Imperial attack.

  Despite his other concerns, Alain found himself wondering what would happen to those elderly and very young if the Imperials and the Great Guilds captured Dorcastle and continued south toward Danalee. Where would they flee next, their numbers swollen by those from Danalee also trying to escape the invaders?

  As the column of cavalry wended its way down the center of streets lined with commons cheering themselves hoarse at the sight of Mari, Alain tried to remain focused on the increasingly disturbing silence where he should have felt the presence of Danalee’s Mages and acolytes. Their progress felt painfully slow to Alain, even though he understood the need to avoid panicking the commons.

  He was surprised when Major Sten rode close and nodded to their left. “The Mage Guild Hall lies over there, Sir Mage.”

  That was very wrong. He had never been so close to a Mage Guild Hall and so unable to sense anything marking its presence.

  “What’s the matter?” Mari asked Alain, her eyes searching the crowd for trouble.

  “Even this close, I sense nothing,” Alain said. “It is as if there are no Mages or acolytes in this city.”

  “We have not seen Mages leaving, Sir Mage,” one of the local officers said, looking very nervous to be addressing Alain. “It would have been noticed. Some have arrived recently, a few days ago. It was unusual to see such a large group.”

  “A large group?” Alain asked, trying to keep feeling in his voice so that the locals would not be alarmed by his emotionless Mage voice.

  “Twelve, Sir Mage.”

  “Twelve at once? And yet nothing from the Guild Hall. This worries me even more. I must go to the Hall and find out what is wrong there.”

  “Stop the column,” Mari ordered. “Open a path through the crowd. My Mage and I need to see the Mage Guild Hall.”

  “But Lady—!” the highest ranking local official protested.

  “There is something wrong at the Mage Guild Hall! Don’t you think it’s important to find out what?”

  Major Sten spoke quickly. “Tell the people that the daughter, and her Mage, are going to confront the Mages here.”

  “Yes!” the official agreed, seizing on the suggestion. He turned to the other officials. “Spread the word to everyone that the daughter is going to confront the Mages in Danalee now.” He hesitated, looking back at Mari. “How dangerous is this?”

  “We do not know,” Alain said. “That is why we must go find out.”

  The mood of the crowd grew fearful as the cavalry column swung to the left and began heading to the large plaza in the center of which rested the Mage Guild Hall. Police and militia clearing the path appeared as anxious as the other citizens. No one walked in that plaza by choice. Alain led the way as they rode toward the Mage Guild Hall, a forbidding-looking structure with only a few doors and narrow windows. Otherwise, the building presented solid, unadorned walls to the world that the Mages denied and regarded as an illusion.

  Alain rode steadily, straining every sense for some indication of what was happening inside the Mage Guild Hall. For one brief moment he thought he felt a trace of something brush against his senses, then it was gone.

  But in its wake, that something had left a sense of pain and loss.

  No longer paying any attention to the others, Alain rode up close to the main door of the Guild Hall. He dismounted, barely aware of Mari following him, and walked quickly to the door. As he expected, it was barred on the inside. Alain pounded on the door, which should have resulted in the acolyte on duty opening it for him. But there was no response, and no sound from within.

  Alain gathered his focus, gazing steadily at the door.

  The world presented the illusion of a solid door. But with the help of the power available here Alain could, for a little while, overlay on that illusion a smaller illusion, one in which the door had an opening in it large enough for a person to walk through.

  Creating this spell would advertise his presence clearly to any Mages in the Hall. But Alain felt increasingly sure that there were no other Mages here any longer.

  The opening appeared. Barely noticing the gasps of fear from the crowds watching from a distance, Alain walked through the opening. He realized too late to warn her off that Mari was right on his heels, her pistol out and ready.

  Once inside, Alain relaxed the spell so he could direct his attention elsewhere. The door appeared to be solid again behind them. He stood, straining his senses once more, as Mari swung up the two stout bars that had held the door closed from the inside. She opened the door, waving reassuringly to those waiting, then stood beside Alain. “Anything?” she whispered to him.

  “No.” The hallway he looked down was undecorated, plain walls and open doorways opening into rooms and other halls, and absolutely empty of any Mages. Silence would have been normal, because Mages so rarely spoke to each other, but there should have been other sounds, of Mages moving about and doing tasks. Here there was nothing.

  “It feels deserted,” Mari commented, looking around worriedly, her weapon held out before her.

  Deserted. But a scent grown familiar and unwelcome came their way, riding the slow air currents inside the building. Alain knew that smell from battlefields. He broke into a run, heading for the large, open room where the acolytes would sleep on bare floors at night and eat bland meals during the day between harsh periods of training. He heard Mari following him, her Mechanic boots thudding on the floor and setting off echoes amid the unnatural silence.

  Alain came to a stop at the entry of the room, shock warring with his Mage training to suppress emotions.

  Boys and girls in the plain, thin robes of acolytes lay about the room. None of them moved. The stench of blood filled the air.

  He walked slowly into the room, crouching beside a boy to study him closely. Blood pooled beneath the body. A slit on the boy’s robe marked the place where a knife had gone in. Traces of surprise, fear, and pain still rested on the boy’s features.

  “Are they dead?” Mari asked in an appalled whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “Wh̶ Why?”

  “I do not know.” Alain sat back on his heels, trying to deal with the terrible scene. “They died not long ago. Perhaps last night, pe
rhaps this morning. I may have sensed the last trace of life leaving one of them as we approached this Hall. There is no Mage teaching that would explain this.”

  He studied the injury that had killed the boy. “This appears to be the work of a Mage knife.”

  Mari looked about with horrified eyes, her weapon held steady in both hands. “You’ve told me that Mages are taught that other people aren’t real, just shadows on the illusion of the world. And that acolytes who err are punished very badly.” It sounded accusing, though Alain knew that Mari did not mean it that way.

  “Yes,” Alain said, standing up even though it felt as if a heavy weight rested across his shoulders. “But acolytes are part of the illusion that must exist if the Mage Guild is to continue, because only if the Guild continues can the search for wisdom go on. Individual acolytes who fail, who break under the training, are killed by the elders. But not all of the acolytes. Not ever.”

  He turned and moved swiftly, heading for the offices of the elders. Mari followed. As they went, Alain caught glimpses of dead Mages lying in some of the rooms they passed. Some had fallen as if struck suddenly. Others seemed to have died in the act of fighting back. One dead Mage still held the knife which had failed to protect its owner.

  Alain found the answer he sought in the main room which had served the elders. The bodies of nearly twenty of those elders lay on the floor or slumped over the table. “We have seen other elders dead in this Hall. Why so many here, more than should be in this Hall?” Alain asked, knowing that Mari could not provide an answer but needing to voice his question. “Were the twelve Mages who arrived yesterday all elders?”

  But there was something else odd here. The room appeared to be just another vista of death, yet Alain felt something he could only think of as the absence of absence. He moved carefully about the room, looking closely at everything, finally spotting the figure of an elder sitting in one corner. Only a small amount of blood marked the front of the elder’s robes, and his chest moved gently as breath came and went. The elder must be focusing every bit of his strength on remaining invisible to other Mages, doing it so effectively that it was indeed as if he was not there to Mage senses.

  Alain gripped his long knife firmly as he stepped closer to the elder. Mari stood slightly to the side, her weapon aimed.

  “Elder,” Alain called in a low voice. No response. “Elder!” he tried again, using a louder and more commanding voice.

  The breathing deepened, and after a long moment the elder’s eyes opened and focused on Alain. He studied Alain silently, then looked over at Mari, who still had her pistol aimed at him.

  Alain decided to speak in the way a Mage normally would to an elder. “This one has questions.”

  The elder blinked at Alain. “The young Mage wants to know why all here have passed into the next dream?” The elder might have been asking about a minor issue rather than a massacre.

  “All but you, elder,” Alain said.

  “All but me.” The elder breathed deeply, moving his hand to let his own knife fall. “It was a difficult spell, young Mage, to make the blade of the knife disappear just as it began to cut into me, and then pretend to withdraw at just the moment as it reappeared.”

  “You faked your death.”

  The elder waved a dismissive hand. “I made an illusion of my death. It was necessary.”

  “Why?” Alain pressed.

  The elder looked at Mari again, then back to Alain. “These elders came. Twelve in number. They brought orders from the council of elders. The council told us what we all knew. Questions had been raised about the wisdom taught by the Guild. Heresies were being debated. Some Mages had fallen completely into error, becoming ensnared by the slut of the Mechanics.”

  Alain heard Mari’s muffled growl of anger. The elder must have heard as well, but ignored Mari, still speaking only to Alain. “The council said it was necessary to prove that their authority was undiminished, to provide an example of the discipline expected of Mages, to show the hard path that represents the only wisdom. All in this Hall would enter the next dream, showing that we would follow the path dictated us, that we did not fear to leave this illusion and that those who had fallen into error were weak by comparison.”

  “Why did the council not kill themselves, then?” Alain asked. “Would that not have proven their dedication most strongly?”

  He thought a flicker of the barest hint of a smile appeared on the elder’s face. “You ask questions that challenge the wisdom of the Guild.”

  “Yes,” Alain said. “It has become a habit for me. The elders here accepted those orders? They did not question the wisdom behind them?”

  “Some elders questioned,” the elder said. “Some elders died before the rest. Those twelve who came were prepared. We were not. When something occurs so contrary to all experience and all wisdom, even elders such as this one will question what illusion we are seeing. The delay while trying to understand was fatal to many.”

  “Why did you not kill yourself like the others?”

  “Because I asked the same question as you, young Mage. And because I was curious.” He finally looked back at Mari. “This one wished to know why others sought new wisdom, what teachings led them off the path demanded by the Guild. I asked, since all is an illusion, since others are but shadows, the Guild itself an illusion as well, why is it wise to act as if the authority of the Guild is real when the Guild itself is not?”

  The elder paused, a dark memory reflected in his eyes. “The elders who came here with the orders had the fire of belief in their eyes. They had been selected for that, this one believes. They killed the other Mages, quickly and silently, room by room, while the Mages still sought to grasp what was happening. A few managed to fight back, but all died. Then those elders who had come here killed all of the acolytes. They killed the acolytes. There is no wisdom that justifies such an act. There is no wisdom in those who would order it, and no wisdom in those who would obey such orders. Then the elders who had come turned their knives on themselves, so that none could question them and learn of their orders. I chose to live, Mage, so that I could tell what happened here and why.”

  The elder’s eyes went to Mari again. “The orders from the council of elders commanded that the killings take place when we heard that the shadow claiming to be the daughter of Jules approached the city. We were to create the illusion that we had all been killed when that shadow arrived. Do you see? The council of elders wished to create the illusion that she had done this. They tried to create a spell to alter the illusion of the world by using not power but the blood of all in this Hall. I am an elder. I have sought wisdom for many years. And while much still evades me, I know that spells wrought from blood have no place in the pursuit of wisdom.”

  “Will you tell others of this, elder?” Alain asked, badly shaken by what he heard.

  The elder eyed Alain. “Your discipline has weakened, Mage, for I see feelings in you. But I also sense strength in you. I care not whether the wisdom you seek is a better path. The acolytes who have passed into the next dream will never have a chance to achieve wisdom. The acolytes in other Halls must be protected against those who would order their deaths for reasons that no Mage should accept. Yes, I will tell others. They will know I do not lie. The council of elders lacks wisdom and is given over to pursuit of power and other illusions. You may be wrong, but they are not right.”

  Alain nodded. “Do you wish to stay here, elder?”

  “I will stay. It is certain that in a few days or less, Mages will be sent here on some errand, to find this Hall filled with dead. The council of elders would proclaim their shock, and announce that only Mages allied with the Mechanic could have successfully done such a thing. But I will be here, and I will tell them the shadow did not commit this act. I will tell them that those who claim wisdom did this.”

  “Can this one do any service for you?”

  The elder touched his chest where the blood was still wet. “No. This one will live lo
ng enough to say what must be said. This one deserves to live no longer than that, for I stood and watched as the acolytes died. Their blood is on my hands as well, for I did not stop what I knew was wrong. You have seen them, the acolytes?”

  “I have seen them,” Alain said.

  “Do any still have a trace of life in them? Has the Mechanic’s wisdom shown you how to change a shadow, Mage, so that you might heal them?”

  Alain shook his head. Even though commons had been led to believe that Mage spells could affect people directly, Mages could not actually do so. The elders claimed that was because no Mage had ever succeeded in being completely certain that others did not exist, that a tiny sliver of belief in the reality of those others kept spells from working on them. Alain had already decided that was wrong, but he did not yet know what was right. “I believe it is showing me the way to such wisdom, but this one is still far from there.”

  The elder looked at Mari again. “Your feelings are easy to read, shadow. You do not bear responsibility for what was done here,” he said, surprising Alain by speaking to her. “The blame lies with those who did the acts, and with this one for not being strong enough to stop them. This one sees the daughter of the prophecy in you. Go and overthrow the Mage Guild. It has fallen into error and must cease.”

  The elder closed his eyes. Alain could see him withdrawing again, denying not only the shadows around him but also the world illusion that had betrayed him.

  Alain stepped back. “We should go,” he told Mari. “He will rouse again when other Mages come.”

  “But he’s weak—"

  “He will endure long enough to tell his story. Then he will cease, by his choice.”

  “There’s nothing we can do?” Mari asked.

  It was like her, Alain thought, that even when surrounded by death and facing someone who had once been ranked among her enemies, Mari still sought to give help where help was needed. “No. This elder has already set his mind on the journey to the next dream. He feels guilty, and would punish himself for his failure.”