Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

Forane licked her lips and eyed the soulstones as if the mere sight of them instilled a feeling of want. “They’re meaningless to you. You could give them to me…”

Greathis crouched beside her and shouted, “What are they for?”

“Many things,” Forane said, lowering her eyes. “If I tell you, will you give them to me?”

“I might consider it. Go on.” Greathis stood and leaned on the front of his desk, folding his arms.

“Augmentation.”

Laedron considered her simple response. He thought the effects he had suffered when he had returned Brice to life-his hair graying, the sudden appearance of wrinkles on his face. The purpose of the stones became clear to him.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Greathis asked.

“I think I know,” Laedron said. “The harvested souls can be used for powerful spells that would normally be fueled by the essence of the conjurer.”

“Yes, young sorcerer,” Forane said, smiling as if filled with accomplishment and satisfaction. “Now, give them to me.”

“What would you use them for, Vicar?” Laedron asked.

“They have promised me immortality, and by these stones do I acquire it.”

“Witch!” Greathis slapped her across the face. “You would sate your appetite upon the souls of men-my men and any others that you can find? Why would you do such a thing?”

She spat a bit of blood onto the floor. “Andolis and Gustav told me that the teachings were a lie. They showed me the truth, and they promised that I could live forever, as they do.”

Greathis raised an eyebrow. “Live forever?”

“They’re Zyvdredi, you fool. The immortal enemies of the Uxidi, the truth seekers… the great ones.”

“I had my suspicions, and this confirms them,” Laedron said. “When I fought Gustav in Pilgrim’s Rest, he spoke the ancient language of Zyvdred.”

Marac gave Laedron a look of astonishment. “You knew, but you told no one?”

“I didn’t know at the time. I knew he was a mage by his use of the old spells, but I had no idea that he was actually Zyvdredi.”

“Do many people go around reciting ancient tongues in your presence?” Greathis asked.

“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.”

Greathis, 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!”