The Consuls of the Vicariate (19 page)

“No, but it’s common amongst elder mages, and I’ll leave it at that.”

Greathis turned to Forane. “Why did the Drakars need your help?”

“They needed someone familiar with the consulship and the Grand Vicar, someone with influence. Someone who could get them close to His Holiness.”

“You mean to tell me that they killed Daris the Second?” Greathis asked. “They murdered the former Grand Vicar?”

“Of course they did. How else could they take power?”

“And Andolis and Gustav being from Darkwatch? All a farce?”

“A cover story to validate their claims. We knew no one from Darkwatch would come this far to prove otherwise. They can’t keep the undead off them long enough to do anything else but fight.”

Greathis rubbed his forehead. “How did they kill Daris?”

Forane didn’t speak, but glanced at the stones.

“They took his soul, didn’t they?” Greathis asked.

She stared at the floor.

“Why do you look away as if you’re ashamed to reveal it? You took stones like these in trade for your loyalty with full knowledge, did you not?”

“The process isn’t pleasant,” she said. “I’ve seen it performed before. Andolis has a staff, and it has soulstones throughout.”

Greathis shook his head. “Have you any idea the amount of people you’ve killed or put in harm for your avarice? No, don’t answer that. I can’t hear any more from you, traitor.”

Forane slinked across the floor toward Laedron, her chains rattling. “Can I have them now?”

“You’ll be fortunate if you live another night,” Greathis said, taking her by the throat. “Wilkans!”

The sergeant came through the door so quickly that Laedron suspected he had been eavesdropping. “Yes, Master Greathis?”

“Take this witch to the dungeon, to the depths where sunlight will never shine upon her.” Greathis looked her in the eyes, anger and hate twisting his features. “However many years you’ve gained from stealing souls will only keep you in that hole longer.”

“You promised to give them to me,” Forane pleaded as she was dragged from the room. “Give them to me!”

Greathis closed the door. “Things are much worse than I thought.”

“What can be done? Have Jurgen go to the consulship in the morning?” Laedron asked.

“No,” Greathis said, rubbing his chin. “It cannot wait that long. Every minute a Zyvdredi sits upon the throne of Azura, our people are in grave danger.”

Brice said, “But I thought you couldn’t arrest a Grand Vicar.”

“That is true, but the circumstances have changed. No, Andolis Drakar has seen his last sunrise as Tristan the Fourth. I will assemble my men, and we will go to the palace and capture him.” Greathis gave Laedron a grin. “I would appreciate your help if you would give it.”

“You have it,” Laedron said, and Marac and Brice nodded in affirmation.

“And you have my sincerest apologies.”

“What for, Master Greathis?”

“For the fact that you’ve come here despite all odds and in the face of great danger, that you’ve been falsely condemned by the church, and that you’ve proven to be my best ally even though you have every reason to be my worst enemy.”

“We only mean to end this war and return things to the way they were. Nothing more.”

“Nothing will be the same after this. It cannot be.”

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Chapter Thirteen →

Storming the Palace

G
reathis, at the front of fifty militiamen, led the way toward the Vicariate Palace at the heart of the Ancient Quarter. The column passed the consulship building first, then marched parallel to the platform connecting the palace to the consul chamber.

“That walkway was designed to give the Grand Vicar greater security when going between the palace and the consulship,” Greathis said, seeming to notice Laedron’s awe of the massive structure. “Early in the morning, you could catch a glimpse of His Holiness on his way to the assembly.”

At the end of the platform stood a tower, which Laedron estimated to be ten stories or more above the walkway.
Probably another five stories below that
.
Andolis could be anywhere in there or the palace beyond, and he may have any number of mages guarding him
.

Close to the steps fronting the complex, Greathis increased his pace, and the militia matched him. They stopped halfway up when the huge double doors at the top opened and Andolis emerged.

“What draws you to my door at this late hour, Dalton Greathis?” Andolis asked. Laedron thought it was strange for him to still be wearing ceremonial robes around the palace that late at night. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Genevieve Forane, and you shall meet her soon enough. You are under arrest for conspiring against the peace.” Greathis unsheathed his weapon, and the militiamen readied theirs.

“Do you forget the law, Guardsman? A reigning Grand Vicar cannot be removed by the likes of you, regardless of your charges. I can only be dethroned by the will of the consuls.”

“I shall not suffer you to remain in that office, Charlatan. Your lies and plots have brought nothing but misery and sorrow, and we shall abide you no longer.” Greathis inched up the stone steps, his men following.

“Then, you leave me no choice,” Andolis said as black-cloaked men joined him on either side. Even from a distance, Laedron recognized the garments and the runic symbols embroidered on the men’s garments.

Andolis retreated into the palace, and Greathis raised his sword. “For Azura!”

The militia guards rushed up the stairs amidst a storm of spells from the black mages. The night sky was illuminated by a deluge of colorful light, with the red of flame and the white of frost joining the light blue sparkles of electricity. Laedron focused on the nearest mage, trying to keep his mind and eyes off the guards falling at either side.

Almost there
, Laedron thought, then a blast of energy sent him to the ground, dust and fragments of stone flying through the air. His ears rang and his vision blurred from the sudden explosion at his feet, and his legs burned like hellfire.
It can’t end this way
. He ran his fingers past his knees to see if the rest of his legs were still attached to his body.

He felt holes in his pants and the wetness of blood, but surmised his body was still intact. Then he saw Master Greathis lying beside him. The mangled guard captain was gasping his last breaths. A hand came through the haze to wave in front of his face, and Laedron grabbed it.

“Are you all right?” Marac shouted over the roar of the battle.

“I’ll make it,” Laedron said with a grunt, struggling to stand. “We must get to Andolis.”

“Brice!” Marac shouted. “You help Lae up the steps, and I’ll lead. Stay behind me.”

With his arm wrapped around Brice’s shoulders, Laedron limped up the stairs. Marac held his shield at the ready. Fragments of wood and iron splintered off the hauberk as they went, and Marac dropped the bent, broken remains of the shield on the ground once they had reached the top.

A mage turned toward them, his wand outstretched, and Marac rushed him before a spell could be cast. Marac plunged his sword into the belly of the man, the dark crimson of the blood indicating a deep, vital strike. Withdrawing the blade, Marac spun around with a slash, severing the mage’s head. He moved on to cleave another sorcerer in the chest and kicked the dying man down the steps.

“Inside,” Marac said, pointing at the door. “They can handle the rest. Andolis is ours.”

Brice helped Laedron through the door and pointed to the left. “There he is!”

Marac turned and ran down the corridor, but Andolis escaped into a passage behind a thick oaken door. Twisting the knob, Marac said, “Hells, it’s locked!”

Laedron staggered down the hall, then produced his scepter. “Stand back. I’ll burn it down.”

Brice shook his head. “No, we have no idea what may be behind the door. Something flammable? Andolis waiting for us? Let me. I’ll do it nice and quiet.”

Nodding, Laedron leaned against a table, while Brice knelt at the keyhole. The circular room had three exits—the one Laedron had entered through, the locked door, and an open arch leading to a raised walkway, presumably the one normally traversed by the Grand Vicar on his way to the consulship.
We must be at the base of the tower
, Laedron mused.

Brice inspected the lock for a few seconds, then reached into his belt to retrieve a thin bit of metal. Laedron took the opportunity to mend his wounds with a healing spell, and though he couldn’t close them completely, he was able to stop the bleeding and ease the pain into a dull ache.

Laedron heard a click, and Brice turned around with a proud smile.

“Let’s get him,” Laedron said.

“Wait.” Marac approached the open archway.

Laedron moved to Marac’s side, and before he could ask, he saw what had captivated Marac. The night sky had a sheen of yellow which brightened to an orange glow, and the clouds were moving. Observing the heavens, Laedron noticed that the clouds were swirling around a focal point—the tower itself. He took a step backward when a stream of red lightning struck the platform beyond the arch, cracking the stone and sending bricks flying through the air.