“At least we’re off those stupid horses.”
The cramped passages swallowed Adrian’s voice. Gone were the echoes, replaced by a suffocating sense of claustrophobia the farther they descended. Rhys glanced at Adrian, and saw she was nervous and pale. She jumped at nearly every shadow cast by Wynne’s glowing staff.
“It’s all right,” he whispered to her. “Calm down.”
“No, it’s not all right. What are we doing here?”
“You volunteered, remember?” He gave her his best grin.
It didn’t help. “Don’t remind me.”
Shale turned to stare at them, the light in the pits of its eyes glowing red. “Perhaps the two mages wish to cease their nattering, lest they draw unwanted attention? I care not, but soft and fleshy creatures should take greater care for their innards.”
Rhys was tempted to point out that the golem’s heavy footfalls more or less announced their presence already. Even attempting to move quietly, it was a constant litany of thoom thoom thoom. The golem seemed in no mood for such a reminder, however . . . if a walking statue could be said to have a “mood.” Rhys was reminded of the solemn templar statues in the mage commons, and wondered what they might be like if they suddenly got up and started walking around.
Somehow he doubted they would be nearly as sassy.
Evangeline took point, warily keeping her sword at the ready. It was for good reason: the sounds they’d heard earlier were louder now. Things were moving, but the way the passages worked he could never tell how far away they were. Sometimes it seemed as if they’d be around the next turn, or just behind him. It was unnerving.
After coming down the long stairs, they first passed through what might have been an antechamber. It was empty save for the blood that covered the floor and walls. Scraps of bloody cloth, bits of jewelry. It smelled like a charnel house. Still no bodies, however.
“I’ll give them this,” he muttered. “These people really know how to redecorate.”
“It’s very welcoming,” Evangeline agreed humorlessly.
“Perhaps the White Spire should consider a similar theme?”
“Where would we get all the blood?”
“With a tower full of mages? That’s not a serious question.”
“True.”
Adrian glared at him incredulously. He couldn’t tell whether it was because he was joking, or because he was joking with Evangeline. Knowing her, it was probably both. Rhys clammed up, but it only made him more nervous. The silence, punctuated by those distant slithering sounds, was almost unbearable. He would have screamed until something showed its face, just to get it over with, if he thought that might help. Somehow he doubted it.
Suddenly there were more stairs, and branching hallways leading out from the bottom landing. Wynne confidently steered the group in the right direction: right, then left. Down a flight of stairs, then around a corner. It was dizzying . . . if Rhys had to find his way back, he wasn’t sure he could manage. The place was so much larger than he’d imagined.
“How many people lived here, anyhow?”
“Several hundred, as I recall,” Wynne answered.
“But there’s room for a thousand.”
“As I said, this was once home to the Grey Wardens. At the height of the Second Blight they very likely had more than a thousand men . . . and griffons.”
That perked Evangeline’s interest. “Griffons?”
“Of course. The old weyrs opened onto the chasm. They’re sealed up now, but I understand they’re still down there. Either way, this place has stood mostly empty for centuries.”
“But if there were hundreds of people here . . .”
The thought was left unanswered. There had been, at best, two dozen bodies in the courtyard. That left a lot of people unaccounted for. All the blood left little to the imagination as to what had become of them, but how had they died? And where were their bodies?
They proceeded through several more rooms, once used for storage. The crates looked as if they’d been torn apart by animals, leaving a mix of grain and foodstuffs strewn about. It was everywhere, some of it mixed with blood, much of it rotting. Flies filled the room like a cloud.
And there was noise coming from the room beyond. It was pitch black there, only the threshold lit by Wynne’s staff. . . but they could see the hint of movement. He heard a low droning, and the sound of many things shifting about. Hundreds of things.
Evangeline tensed, staring into the darkness. “Arm yourselves,” she whispered.
Rhys hoped it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, but that seemed unlikely. He willed his staff to come to life, slowly channeling magic until it crackled with white energy. Adrian did the same. He saw the sweat pouring down her brow.
Wynne quietly cast a spell, moving her hands in arcane patterns until gossamer streams of energy appeared and settled onto each of them. His skin tingled, and he could feel the protection her magic was offering. “Shale.” She motioned to the golem. “You go first. Ser Evangeline will be right behind you.”
“Flesh creatures are so easily pulverized,” it agreed. Clenching its huge stone fists, Shale charged into the room. The others followed right on its heels, Wynne causing her staff to flare so brightly that Rhys at first recoiled. He covered his eyes, and had to blink to get his vision back.
As soon as he did, he wished it would go away again.
The room might once have been a barracks of some kind, but now it had been turned into a gruesome lair. In the glaring light, he could see a huge crowd of people . . . or what had once been people. Now they were twisted creatures, hunched down and feasting on human remains. They crawled over piles of bones and even each other like primitive beasts, fighting over scraps. Wallowing in the gore. Their skin was covered in blood and filth, little more than rags remaining of whatever clothes they’d once worn.
And their eyes. As they spun around to stare at the intruders, their eyes shone like malevolent beacons. It was as if some dark force spilled out from inside them. As they bared sharp and bloody teeth in angry hisses, they took on a decidedly demonic appearance.
Rhys had never been so terrified in his life.
“Beware!” Evangeline cried. She raced forward as the nearest creatures rushed at her. The first she cleaved nearly in half with her sword, but the others leapt on her and almost bore her down. She threw them off with a great heave. One immediately sprang back up, hissing loudly, and she took off his head.
Shale was already ahead of her. The golem charged forward, each step making an earth-shattering boom. It scooped up several of the possessed men and women in its arms and threw them across the room. They screeched as they sailed through the air, plowing into others and knocking them all down.
Already others were climbing over Shale. As it tore each one off, another replaced it. Shale resorted to ignoring them, swinging about with its fists as the creatures tried to get to the mages. Each one it struck was sent flying from the impact.
But more were coming. A surge of them rushed into the room, howling and screaming in bloodlust. Wynne gave Rhys and Adrian a dire look. “Are you ready?”
They both nodded.
Rhys was first. He fought down his fear and concentrated, focusing instead on the power welling up inside. It grew stronger and stronger until he shook, until he felt ready to explode. Then he extended a hand, directing the energy outward.
The thrill as magic coursed through his body was unbelievable. A ball of black energy burst from his fingertips and hurtled across the room. It flew past Shale and Evangeline, and when it struck the far wall it expanded. It became a sucking void, drawing the nearest creatures into it. They disappeared into its depths, screaming. And then it grew, its power becoming more immense. A corona of blue energy surrounded it, sucking air and debris and everything else into its core. Creatures not close enough to be drawn inside were slowed. As if fighting against a powerful wind, they bent down and struggled to take even the slightest step.
Adrian was next. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and Rhys felt the heat radiating from her. When she opened her eyes they glowed red with flame. She held up a palm and a swirling ball of fire coalesced over it. Then she threw it, and as it flew it grew larger and hotter. It struck a group of creatures and exploded into an inferno. They emitted earsplitting screeches as the flames engulfed them.
Wynne fired lightning from the tip of her staff. As each bolt struck a creature, killing it instantly, the energy arced to another nearby. Still more of the creatures managed to get by Evangeline and Shale, and as they rushed at Wynne she unleashed a wave of cold. The entire group froze solid where they stood.
Still others ran around their frozen comrades, ignoring them completely. Wynne blasted several, but one leapt high up into the air. It descended with fangs bared, knocking her to the ground.
“Wynne!” Rhys cried.
Panic gripped him. He launched a magical bolt from his staff, hitting the creature just as it was about to sink its fangs into her neck. It was blown off, and as it scrambled back to its feet Wynne blasted it with an ice spell. The creature froze, and then shattered into a thousand icy shards.
Wynne gave Rhys a grateful look, but just then something slammed into him from the side. He fell hard, and twisted around to see the creature’s face inches from his own. It was a woman—her skin mottled and diseased, blond hair hanging in stringy clumps from her scalp. She hissed, baring fangs coated with black saliva and blood.
He desperately tried to push her off, but she was stronger than he ever would have believed. Just as she was about to overpower him, something struck her on the side of the head. A staff. Adrian loomed over them, face twisted by terror, and hit the creature again. It leapt off of him, and spun about to hiss at Adrian, and she fired a jet of flame at the creature. It was hurtled back into the shadows, screaming.
“There’s too many!” Adrian shouted, although he could barely hear. Each lightning bolt Wynne fired filled the chamber with thunder. That, combined with the screaming of the creatures as they swarmed Evangeline and the golem, made it deafening.
“I know!”
Adrian looked out at the mass of creatures. Rhys did the same. Already, more pushed past Shale, who all but crawled with them. Even though the golem was made of stone, they were still strong enough to slowly tear it to pieces. Evangeline was wounded as well, blood coursing from a gash on her forehead down her face and over her armor. Wynne was hard pressed—they were all sweating, and wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long.
“I’m going to summon the storm!” Adrian concentrated, pressing her palms together and forming a kernel of red flame, which slowly began to grow in intensity.
“No! You’ll kill Evangeline!”
“It’s either that or we’re all dead!”
He leapt up, throwing caution to the wind. Several creatures charged at him. He summoned what power he could and unleashed it as a wave of pure force, and they were sent flying. He raced toward Evangeline, who swung her sword in wild arcs. The creatures had her surrounded, and her grim expression told Rhys she knew she was about to fall.
“Evangeline!” he called, as loudly as he could. She didn’t hear him. He rushed toward her, blasting several of the nearest creatures. She spun as he drew close, only prevented from chopping him in half at the last second, as she realized who he was.
She stared at him in shock, her face covered in blood. “What are you doing?!”
“Down!” Rhys tackled her, bearing both of them to the ground. She struggled, as much in anger as in fear of the creatures now racing toward them.
And then the firestorm began.
The flames swept across the ceiling, dancing like eddies of a hurricane wind. Gouts of fire swooped down with a great roar, rushing across groups of the creatures and turning them almost instantly into cinders. Rhys could see Adrian, her hands outstretched and surrounded by a corona of fire even though she remained unharmed. She floated off the ground, red curls flying, a terrible and vengeful goddess.
Rhys buried his face against Evangeline, and she covered her head. The heat was blistering. The roar reached a force that was almost physical. It pounded at Rhys and pressed him down, threatening to tear him apart. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He could barely breathe.
And then, almost as soon as it began, it was over. The firestorm vanished, followed by an eerie silence. No screeching, no thunder or roar of flames, just a faint sizzling sound accompanied by the smell of charcoal and burnt flesh.
He lifted his head. Evangeline did the same, and stared at him with a stunned expression. There were no words to speak—he felt dizzy, strangely empty. Rhys willed power into his staff, and as the blue glow expanded, he saw the battle was over. Charred corpses lined the room from one end to the other, black smoke still rising from their bodies. Shale stood not far away, irritably brushing hot ash off its stony skin.
“Mages are occasionally useful,” it grudgingly admitted.
Both Wynne and Adrian lay on the floor not far away. Neither moved. Quickly Rhys jumped up and ran over, coughing at both the stench and the smoke. Wynne looked singed and disheveled, but otherwise unhurt, and waved him away with a scowl. Adrian was deathly pale, barely breathing.
He touched her cheeks: cold. “Adri?” he whispered, fear gripping him.
Slowly she opened her eyes, just a little. “Am I dead?” she moaned.
He laughed in exhausted relief. “Not yet, no.”
“That’s a shame . . .”
Evangeline walked over, sheathing her sword. Coated in blood and soot, she looked every inch the battle-hardened warrior. “There doesn’t seem to be any more. We’re safe, at least for the moment.”
Wynne lit up her staff again, nodding with approval when she saw Shale was unharmed, and looked about. “The passage on the far side leads into Pharamond’s laboratory. He is inside.”
Evangeline looked incredulous. “You can’t think he’s still alive!”
Wynne gave her a serious look. “I do.”
It felt strange to consider simply proceeding with their mission, as if the battle had been nothing more than an obstacle. These creatures had been innocents, possessed by demons; if Pharamond’s experiments had caused this, Rhys questioned if they should be trying to save him at all. But he remained quiet. What else could they do but move on? And Wynne was correct. Now that the fight was over, he could feel that dark presence again. Whatever had happened here, the heart of it was in the next room.
He didn’t feel particularly eager to discover what it was.
The first thing that struck Rhys as they entered was the laboratory’s size. It had multiple levels, and seemed to be something between a library and a workshop—and that was only the parts of it he could see by the light of Wynne’s staff. Most of it was shrouded in darkness. More strangely, it was utterly untouched by the chaos present everywhere else in the keep. The books remained on their shelves, the workshop tables were cluttered with papers and strange instruments. It looked not dissimilar to the workshops one might find in the White Spire.
The exception was the elven man sitting in a luxurious chair in the middle of the room.
Or what had once been a man. Now he looked misshapen, his flesh hideously twisted across his frame. His arms were too long and thin, his fingers ending in talons, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a disturbing grimace. The only reason Rhys could tell he was even an elf was his pointed ears, although now they resembled horns. His eyes, however, appeared completely clear . . . and he watched them from his chair with an air of calm fascination without rising.
The presence Rhys sensed was inside of him. A demon burned in every fiber of his being, pulsating with a malevolence that infected the room.
Wynne stood not far from the man, Shale beside her. At first he wondered why she wasn’t doing anything, but as they entered she held up a hand in warning and then gestured to the floor. That’s when Rhys saw them: runes, inscribed in a circle around the chair. There was powerful magic in them; the familiar tingle of it on his skin told him that much.
“Greetings to you all.” The demon leaned back redolently in its chair, tapping its talons on the arm. Rhys found its voice was oddly cultured, though the unearthly timbre of it made him shiver. “I have waited so long for guests. You will have to excuse my lesser brethren. They become so . . . excitable . . . after passing through the Veil.”
“Are you Pharamond?” Wynne asked carefully.
“Can you not tell?”
“I believe you were once Pharamond. Now you are something else.”
“Poor Wynne.” Its lips pulled even farther back from its teeth, in the semblance of a smile. “You have lived through events that would make a lesser human beg for mercy . . . and what have you to show for your efforts? It must be distressing for one so favored by fate to discover it has nothing more to offer her.”
She scowled but did not respond. Evangeline stepped forward, keeping a wary eye on the demon and her sword at the ready. “I don’t understand,” she whispered to Wynne. “How does it know your name? Why is it just sitting there?”
“Those runes form a circle of binding. The demon cannot cross them, and I suggest we stay on this side. As for how it knows my name, it’s reading my thoughts . . . or using Pharamond’s memories.”
The demon’s grin grew wider. “Clever mage.”
Evangeline knelt down, studying the runes more closely. “These are enchanting runes. The sort the Tranquil use.”
Wynne nodded, but now Rhys spoke up. “So Pharamond created the binding circle? That means he . . .”
“He did this on purpose.” Evangeline completed his thought. “Created the binding circle and placed himself within it. This demon is no accident.”
The idea took a moment to sink in. Everything they had seen in the keep was the doing of demons, dark spirits that had bled into this world from the Fade . . . and here was evidence that Pharamond had brought them here. Perhaps it hadn’t been his intention, but he’d known enough of the risk to create the binding circle. It might even have been him that sealed the keep’s doors. If they were precautions, they clearly hadn’t been enough.
The only questions that remained were how . . . and why?
Evangeline stood back up and faced Wynne. “I trust you’ve seen enough. Whatever your friend was researching, he did so through the use of demons. No good can come of this.”
“I haven’t determined that, yet.”
“What is there left to determine? This is folly!”
Wynne set her jaw stubbornly. “I came here to save Pharamond, a goal which has the full support of the Chantry.”
“The Chantry would change its mind if it knew what he was doing.”
“And it will.” Wynne glared at Evangeline. “We do not have all the answers yet, and I will not jump to conclusions. You are free to help me or not, as you choose.”
The demon chuckled with amusement, drawing their attention. It slowly rose from the chair, its skin stretching with a leathery creaking sound. Shale took an aggressive step toward the circle, only to be stopped by Wynne. The demon smiled again, holding its arms wide. “By all means, creature. Come into the circle and destroy me, if you dare.”
“Let me squish it,” Shale grunted.
Wynne shook her head. “No. That’s not why we’re here.”
“I know why you are here, Wynne.” The demon extended a long arm toward Evangeline, who raised her eyebrows but did not move. “But do you know why the templar is here? Why she urges you to desist your efforts?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah! Then Rhys did not tell you?”
Wynne glanced back at Rhys, and he felt guilty. He’d told Wynne and Adrian about Cole, yes, but not what he’d learned about Evangeline’s true purpose. Now he wished he had. “She is here to find out what Pharamond was researching,” he said hesitantly. “And whether that knowledge would damage the Chantry.”
Adrian pushed away from Rhys. She wavered from weakness, but still had enough presence of mind to stare at him suspiciously. “What does that mean?” she demanded. “What if she doesn’t like what we find?”
“Then it remains here,” Evangeline said grimly. “No matter what.”
“Meaning you’ll kill us.” Adrian’s eyes went wide in realization. “That’s why the other templars are here, isn’t it? Admit it.”
Wynne backed away from Evangeline, her eyes glaring dangerously. “Is this true?” Shale took half a step in front of her, looming protectively as if the templar were about to attack.
Evangeline remained still, one hand on the hilt of her sword, but she made no move. She looked guardedly at the others, and then nodded. “I did not ask them to come. But yes, that is why they are here.”
“I knew it!” Adrian spat. “For all your talk of protecting us, you’re doing what the templars always do—protecting yourselves!”
“It was feared the Divine might not have been fully aware of the implications of your mission,” Evangeline said firmly, “and I see that was correct. I am here to watch, and decide. I take no pleasure in this, but I will do my duty.”
“And what about your duty to do as the Divine asks?” Wynne asked.
“I am operating on the orders of the Lord Seeker, he who is the hand of the Divine. It is not my place to question his judgment.”
“So you’re just following orders?” Adrian hissed. She held out her hands and a wreath of flame began to form, curling around them. Rhys tried to restrain her, concerned she was overtaxing herself, but she jumped away. “And you! You kept this to yourself! Why would you do that, Rhys?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe it’s because you’re so predictable?”
That was the wrong answer. She drew herself up, eyes flashing with rage. “Should I be grateful a templar’s been sent along to kill us? Is there another reaction I’m supposed to have?” She turned back to Evangeline, the fire around her hands glowing brighter. “Do you really think we’ll let you get away with this?”
The templar seemed undaunted. “Do you really believe there is knowledge worth finding here? Save the man or don’t save him, his research was dangerous enough to condemn every innocent soul in this keep to death. It is forbidden magic I have sworn to guard the world against, to my dying breath.”
“Forbidden magic!” Adrian laughed contemptuously. “What you templars call anything you don’t understand!”
“What more is there to understand?”
“Don’t you want to know how a Tranquil could be possessed?” Adrian shook her head, as if disgusted Evangeline could have forgotten. “Isn’t that the entire reason why we’re here? Who cares how he managed to do it—it’s been done!”
“Oh, I can help with that,” the demon interjected.
Wynne looked at it suspiciously. “Is that so?”
“There are only two possibilities.” It smiled, tapping its chin as if trying to think the matter through. “Either I am so powerful that even the mind of a Tranquil is not denied me . . . or the man you see before you managed to reverse his condition. He is no longer Tranquil.”
“That cannot be done,” Evangeline objected.
“Yet here I am. Ask yourself which possibility is more likely.” It chuckled at her grim expression. “Ah, yes. If the Rite of Tranquility can be undone, templars would have to watch over the Tranquil as well as the mages. Suddenly no one is safe.”
She looked disturbed, but before she could respond Adrian rushed toward Wynne. “Stop her,” she demanded. “It’s not going to matter what we find out, and you know it. They don’t want your friend saved, and if what the demon says is true they’d rather die than let anyone know their precious rite is worthless.”
Evangeline spun to face them, angry. “And you think that knowledge would be of benefit? To anyone?”
“Yes, I do.” Adrian was defiant. “All those mages the templars have mutilated, turned into servants and worse! Why wouldn’t I jump at the chance to undo the damage you’ve caused?”
Evangeline’s face grew hard. “You speak of those who do not have the strength to command their gifts. There is little other choice, save to watch them become prey to demons they could not hope to fight.”
“And how do you judge them? You throw a demon at them in a test to the death, where their only alternative is to submit to your ritual? It’s barbaric!”
“What would you rather we do? Execute them?”
“It would be more honest! Instead you get to pretend like you’re not all murderers, like you’re doing us a favor!”
“You are a stupid girl.” Evangeline shook her head.
Adrian screamed in outrage, flying at Evangeline with her hands extended to claw out the templar’s eyes. Evangeline raised her sword, but before they could collide Rhys interposed himself. Adrian tried to get around him, but he grabbed her. She struggled, snarling furiously, and when she realized it was useless she slapped him.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Don’t you realize this is exactly what the demon wants?”
That gave her pause. He looked at Evangeline. “Even when demons aren’t lying,” he said, “they’ll manipulate the truth to get the results they want. Don’t listen to it.”
Wynne, who up until this point had watched the confrontation with a dangerous glare, slowly nodded. Even Adrian reluctantly nodded, though her scowl indicated she didn’t like it. In all the years he’d known her, she could always be talked down from a true fury—but this had been a close thing.
“Thank you,” Evangeline said.
“Yes, heroically done,” the demon applauded him, smirking. “Perhaps you should tell your companions why you didn’t inform them of the templar’s mission, Rhys. They might not think you such a hero then.”
“I didn’t tell them because I knew this would happen!”
“Oh? Not because you sought the templar’s favor? Protection from the fate that awaits your return to the tower?”
“No!”
“I see.” It nodded. “Then perhaps it is merely the templar you wished to protect. She is a pretty thing, is she not?” It laughed with delight.
Adrian detached herself from his hands, but avoided his gaze and was silent. “Adrian,” he said quietly. “Remember what I said. The demon is just trying to goad us with lies.”
“I do not need to lie, not when the truth is so much more delicious.”
He wheeled on it, enraged, and summoned mana to his command. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that twisted grin off its face, blast it into ashes.
Wynne stamped her staff down on the ground, hard, interrupting him. All eyes turned toward her. “Heed your own advice,” she commanded, “and ignore the demon.” Then she turned to Evangeline. “We are going to continue with the ritual, and I will go into the Fade and face the demon there. Do you intend to stop me?”
Evangeline considered. “No,” she finally said.
“Excellent,” the demon agreed smugly. It sat back down in the chair, arranging itself like a king greeting his subjects. “By all means, come into the Fade and meet me on my own terms. I do not, after all, have anywhere else to go.”
Tense silence followed. It was the golem that finally interrupted it. “Does this mean the argument is finally over?” it sighed. “It really is quite dreary to listen to.”
“Yes, it’s done,” Wynne snapped.
“Until you bring back Pharamond,” Adrian added. She glared meaningfully at Evangeline, who kept her expression deliberately neutral. Her eyes met Rhys’s only for a second, and he looked away. He felt embarrassed. What must she think of him now? She was attractive, it was true. More than that, if he was any judge of character he believed her to be honest and even noble—rare traits in a templar.
She was still a templar, however, and he was still a mage. Anything more was impossible, and even if it wasn’t the entire idea seemed sullied now. He tried to ignore the flush that crawled up his face.
Wynne waved her staff toward him. “Take a position on the other side of the binding circle. You as well, Adrian.”
“What about the Veil?” Rhys asked. “It’s thin here, worse than at the White Spire. I didn’t want to summon any spirits earlier because I was afraid what else might come through. If we make a mistake . . .”
“We will do what we must.” She looked at Shale. “It will be up to you to guard us, old friend. Do you remember when we did this at Redcliffe?”
The golem rolled its eyes. “I have not become senile, unlike the elderly mage.”
“Good. Then I trust you won’t fall asleep.”
“If I slept, I might be tempted.”
Adrian scowled as she stood next to the circle, alternating between glaring at the demon and glaring at Evangeline. Rhys took his position on the other side, and was simply glad to be getting this underway. The quiet was excruciating. He almost wished for the thunder and roar of the combat they’d been engaged in only minutes before.
“Are you sure you’re strong enough for this, Adrian?” he asked.
She didn’t look at him. “I’ll be fine.”
The demon swiveled its head around, looking appraisingly at Rhys with its too-human eyes. He tried not to meet its gaze. During the course of his experiments, he’d interacted with a number of spirits, some of them demons—none of them as powerful as this one. To stand in the same room with it, to have it sitting there so calmly, was more than a little surreal.
“Of course, she will be fine,” it chuckled. “There is nothing at all to fear.”
“Shut up.”
“I am but offering you one more opportunity to engage in discourse with a demon, Rhys. I am surprised your templar companion permits this at all.”
He could see Evangeline frowning. She looked down, fingering the hilt of her sword. Perhaps she was considering killing them as they attempted the ritual? If so, she had only the golem to stop her. Still, he doubted she would try.
A new thought occurred to him. He stared suspiciously at the demon. “What do you mean ‘one more opportunity’? Do you know something about Cole?”
Wynne rummaged through her pack, pulling out a large bottle filled with a glowing blue liquid. Pure, unrefined lyrium. Even from here, Rhys could hear its faint song, a melody that played in his head and danced upon his skin. “Don’t speak to it, Rhys,” she warned. “Anything it tells you will be a lie.”
Adrian snorted derisively. “It hasn’t lied to us yet.”
“But what if it knows what Cole is?” Rhys felt helpless, caught between his wariness and the faint chance the demon might be able to tell him something useful. He didn’t truly believe Cole was a demon. He could sense this one, right here in front of him—why would Cole be any different? But what if he was?
“It preys on your doubt,” Evangeline suddenly said. “Put your mind at ease. If answers come, they will not be at the hand of this creature.” She looked at Rhys with unexpected concern, and he found himself relaxing a little. She was right. He nodded back to her gratefully.
Wynne stood. “We may begin.”
She unstoppered the bottle, careful not to let any of the blue liquid spill on her. Raw lyrium was dangerous to a mage. Even to an ordinary person it could cause madness. Lyrium smugglers from the dwarven lands sometimes grew sick and died, screaming at invisible torments. The shock of absorbing so much mana, however, could instantly kill a mage.
He watched anxiously as she poured the lyrium into a small brass bowl. As soon as it touched the metal it began to bubble, sending out a small burst of energy that sent a shiver through his skin. The demon watched with clinical fascination, almost trilling with delight as a cloud of blue vapor rose from the bowl.
Wynne closed her eyes, concentrating. She began to move her hands around the vapor, coaxing and teasing without ever touching it. It branched out like a growing vine, sending out tendrils toward Adrian. She held out her hands to welcome it, and the vapor slowly swirled around her.
Rhys held his hands out as well, focusing his mind on the music. It was getting louder now, a chorus of power that thrilled his soul. The vapor reacted as if alive, undulating toward him, curling around his body. Wherever it drew close to his skin, he felt a strange charge, like electricity. It set his hairs on edge.
Everything was drowned out by the music, that insistent sound that seemed to pull him out of his body. The blue vapor slowly wandered back toward Adrian, and when it connected with the tendrils of vapor in front of her, the circuit was complete. A ring of power now surrounded the demon and began to grow in intensity, to grow in urgency until it was all Rhys could bear.
It was too much. Too much. He shut his eyes, the music so overwhelming it felt as if he were about to vibrate out of existence. He violently shook his head, but it only grew worse.
I . . . can’t . . . this is . . .
And then the Veil ripped open.