Dragon Age Book 3: Asunder

by David Gaider

  "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.

  Chapter 11

  Cole's mind rebelled.

  That music, at first so strange and different from what he felt when he saw the tainted creature in the badlands, had become a nightmare. It invaded him, filled him up and then tore him apart . . . and didn't stop there. He remembered falling to the ground, covering his ears and trying to scream. But there was no other sound at all, just a wrenching that lifted him up and bore him into the darkness.

  And now . . . now there was silence. But he was somewhere else.

  He was outdoors, in the middle of an unfamiliar city and in the middle of a war. Buildings burned, people were running and screaming. Chaos was everywhere. A sinister darkness filled the sky, like some evil rot had spread and infected the world. Worse, it was all wrong. It felt as if he were looking through tinted glass, everything real and yet completely unreal at the same time. The world was too vivid, too in focus, yet it all seemed to blur at the edges of his vision.

  Cole wanted to grab someone, make them see him and demand to know where he was. What was that mountain that dominated the skyline? He'd never even seen a mountain before. What were they running from? Why was everything burning? But he was too terrified, and everything was happening too quickly.

  He dashed to the side of the road, getting out of the way of a group of fleeing elves— families dragging their crying children and carrying their worldly possessions— and took refuge in the doorway of some burned- out shop.

  There were charred corpses inside. He didn't want to look at them. The entire city stank of death and smoke. His heart wouldn't stop thumping in his chest, and he wanted to scream. What is happening?

  And then he saw them. The same sort of monster he'd seen in the badlands, things with pale flesh and tainted hearts. They ran into view, carrying crude swords and shouting their bloodlust. But there was something wrong with them, too. He didn't hear the music, that insistent melody with its tendrils reaching out for him. They were shells and nothing more.

  But they saw Cole. It took a moment for that to register as the monsters pointed at him. They roared and pounded the ground with their swords, and then charged.

  The first he slashed across the throat with his dagger. He hadn't even realized he'd drawn it; he'd reacted instinctively, and there it was. Black ichor spurted from its neck, and it gurgled as it stumbled past him into the shop. The second swung its sword and missed, the blade chopping into the burnt doorframe and sticking there. Cole slashed its arm, forcing it to let go of its weapon, and then spun around with enough force to plunge the dagger into its sternum.

  It collapsed with a bestial cry, but already others were coming. Too many. Cole turned and ran. He darted through the shop, leaping over the dead bodies and escaping out of a collapsed section of the back wall.

  He had no idea where he was going. He heard the wailing cry of the creatures behind him as they gave pursuit, and that only made him run faster. He charged through winding alleyways, through choking black smoke, and past frightened people who cowered from him as he passed.

  Eventually Cole spilled out onto some kind of square, drenched in blood and gore. A battle had occurred there— bodies of dead soldiers lay scattered about, most of them human and all of them wearing colors he didn't recognize. Their throats were cut, their limbs hacked apart. One man no older than he lay nearby, his tongue swollen and purple, horrified eyes staring up at nothing. The smell made Cole want to vomit.

  A scream of terror in the alley behind him forced him to move. Across the square was the opening to a larger street, one that wasn't completely choked with flames. That could be a way out. Cole picked his way across the square, stepping between the bodies as quickly as he could.

  He was only halfway across when he heard the savage cry of discovery. He turned back and saw the creatures spilling out of the alley now, dozens of them charging into the square with wild abandon.

  There was no way he would make it in time. Cole gripped his dagger tightly, sour sweat pouring down his face. He looked at the dead soldiers, wondering if he should take one of their shields . . . or perhaps a sword? He'd never used either, and those things didn't seem to have helped the soldiers.

  Die like a man. The command wormed its way through his head. Where did it come from? He'd heard it somewhere, and now it made him clench his teeth. He tensed and waited. The creatures ran toward him almost slowly, as if running through murky water, but it wasn't true. He was the one who slowed.

  And then there was an explosion.

  Cole stared in stunned disbelief as a great burst of fire sent the creatures flying. They sailed through the air, arms flailing, and hit the ground hard. All of them were burning, screaming horribly.

  "Cole!"

  He turned toward the sound of the voice . . . and saw Rhys running into the square. The other mages we
re with him, the old woman and the red- haired one, and Knight- Captain, too. A great statue made of stone and crystals lumbered behind them, something Cole would normally have been startled to see. Today it was just one more piece of strangeness to heapupon the others.

  "Rhys?" he asked quietly.

  Rhys stared at him, mouth agape in shock. Knight- Captain stared as well, although her expression was far more wary. She held her sword at the ready, as if concerned Cole might run at them and attack. It was the furthest thing from his mind.

  The other two mages walked toward the creatures still standing. They held out their staff s and unleashed bolts of power. The blasts scattered the pale monsters, and that's when the stone behemoth rushed past the mages. It pounded the ground with both fists, hard enough to send out a shockwave that toppled the rest of the monsters to the ground.

  A few more bolts of fire and lightning and the monsters finally fled. They picked up their weapons and abandoned their dead comrades, disappearing back into the alleyway. Cole watched them go, having never moved from the middle of the square. In the quiet that followed, punctuated only by the distant sounds of fire and screaming, he realized everyone was staring. At him. They could all see him.

  Rhys took a step closer, but Knight- Captain reached out and stopped him. "Cole, what are you doing here?" Rhys asked, perplexed.

  "I know you didn't want me to follow you . . ."

  "No, how did you get here?"

  Cole felt nervous. He wasn't used to having so many people looking at him, and they weren't doing anything. He desperately wanted to hug Rhys, beg the man's forgiveness. . . . He'd pictured this reunion so many different ways, but never like this. "There was music," he said quietly. "It was so loud, it filled me up and took me here. But I don't know where here is."

  "This is the Fade," the old woman said. He'd never gotten a close look at her before. She might have seemed like a kindly grandmother had it not been for those sharp eyes. They looked right through him and sized him up, and there was something else . . . something behind them that made Cole shiver. He didn't like it. He almost wished he were invisible again. "The realm of spirits," she continued. "And this is a dream, of sorts. I believe it might be mine."