Paragon of Destruction

Yet rather than attacking the man for his insolence, the Matriarch merely gave him a frustrated stare. "Elder Heran, what right do you have to make such claims?"

"Lady Matriarch," the Elder replied, somehow managing to make the title sound like an insult, "what other explanation could there be? Had my students wished to kill this apprentice of yours — this initiate — they would have turned him to ashes in an instant. Yet here he stands, alive and unharmed."

There was a satisfied smile on his face as he spoke, and Arran wondered if the man cared at all about his lost students. They had died following his orders — of that, Arran was certain — but he seemed more interested in achieving his goal through other means than in mourning their deaths.

"My apprentice had a protective amulet," the Matriarch said. "One that shielded him from magic attacks. Had it not been for that small bit of fortune, his attackers likely would have succeeded."

"A protective treasure?" The Elder sneered. "And one strong enough to stop adepts’ attacks? In the hands of an initiate?" He turned his eyes to Arran. "I should very much like to see such a priceless treasure. Where is it now?"

At the mention of the amulet, the eyes of many of the Elders in the hall lit up. In particular, the group Arran suspected came from the House of Creation looked on with great interest, the mention of treasure seeming to interest them more than the attack.

"The amulet was destroyed in the attack," the Matriarch said, a hint of regret in her voice. "A loss for which our House will have to offer compensation."

Elder Heran snorted in derision, and he was joined by more than a few incredulous guffaws from the others in the hall. For this, Arran could not blame them. It really sounded almost too convenient to be true. Which, of course, it wasn’t — the actual amulet had been considerably weaker.

"Such a timely loss," the Elder said, a slight smirk on his lips. "And we are to take it on faith alone that your apprentice just happened to have such a priceless treasure?"

"I gave it to him."

Brightblade’s voice came from the back of the hall, but rather than its usual confidence, it now held a hint of fear. From her tone, one could have believed her a panicked novice rather than a frightfully powerful Archmage.

As she spoke, the gathered Elders instantly turned to look at her, clearly curious who this newcomer was. Elder Heran, however, seemed unsurprised.

"You are his old teacher, are you not?" he asked. "The adept who joined our Valley last year?"

"I am, Lord Elder," she replied, far more respectfully than the man deserved. "When my student and I joined the Valley, I gave him the amulet as protection."

"Ridiculous!" the Elder exclaimed. "We are to believe that you gave a mere initiate a priceless treasure? And that it was conveniently destroyed in the attack?"

"Lord Elder," Brightblade responded in a shocked voice. "You can’t think I’m lying to you?!"

"I know you are lying," the Elder said sharply. "And you will be punished for these ridiculous falsehoods. As will your student."

At that moment, the Matriarch spoke up, though her voice held a hint of desperation. "There were witnesses to the attack — witnesses who confirmed my apprentice’s story."

"And where are these witnesses now?"

This time, the one who spoke was an older woman, standing next to Elder Heran. Tall and gaunt, she had a pale face that looked almost skeletal, with thin gray hair and piercing eyes.

"Elder Danae," the Matriarch said. "The witnesses, they..." She sighed, then continued, "We no longer have them. They disappeared not long after the attack, and I fear they have fallen into the hands of those who ordered it."

The look she gave the woman made it clear that she had little doubt about who that might be.

Arran, for his part, almost groaned in frustration. While his enemies had come to the meeting fully prepared, it seemed the Matriarch had failed on every front. There was no need to guess what fate the frightful mage who had found him after the attack had suffered — by now, it was doubtful that anything more than a pile of ash was left of the poor man.

"Another convenient coincidence," Elder Danae said. "But as luck would have it, there was another witness. Three of my students were among the group that was murdered, but the heavens saw it fit to save one of them. Alkaios, step forward."

At her words, a thin young man stepped out from behind her. Dark-haired and almost as pale as his mistress, he had a nervous expression, and he almost trembled as he looked at the Elders in the hall, all of whose eyes were now firmly focused on him.

"Tell us what happened," the woman said. "Tell us what you saw with your own eyes."

"I..." The young man’s eyes nervously darted around the room, and he briefly fell silent. "I... My friends and I, we were traveling back to the House of Seals when we were attacked by two mages. I Sensed that one of them was stronger than we were, and I fled as the fighting started."

"Can you tell us who these two mages were?" Elder Danae asked, her face not betraying the slightest hint of emotion.

"I can," the adept replied, a tremble in his voice. "They were the ones who attacked us." He raised a hand, first pointing at Arran, then at Brightblade. "They are the murderers." As he finished speaking, he gave the Elder a questioning glance, almost as if he wanted her to confirm that he had given the right answer.

Yet although the blatant lie seemed transparent to Arran, it caused a murmur of shocked whispers to spread through the hall. Perhaps the adept’s words on their own would not be enough to convince the gathered mages, but with the backing of two Elders, it was a different matter.

"You claim I killed your students?" Brightblade exclaimed, sounding both shocked and fearful. "Why would I do such a thing?!"

"That is easy to explain."

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forth from among the House of Seals Elders. He was bald, with a strong jaw and a face that carried several large scars. And as he stepped out from the group, he looked around the hall with a commanding expression.

"My fellow Elders," he began, his voice forceful. "Our Valley has been deceived. This woman—" he paused to point at Brightblade "—is not who she says she is. She joined the House of Swords just over a year ago, supposedly an adept. Yet immediately, she proved to have a Master’s skill."

He gave the Matriarch a contemptuous look. Then, he stepped onto the dais, facing the group of Elders within the hall.

"But that unlikely talent was mere trickery," he continued. "My sources in the House of Swords have informed me that she is in truth a Master, departed from her own Valley because she lacked the talent and skill to advance further. So she came here, to us, to gain the benefits and guidance reserved for the most talented mages by posing as an adept."

Arran frowned. If the man actually had any sources in the House of Swords, then they had clearly withheld more than a bit of information from him.

Yet Brightblade replied nervously, "But even if I am not an adept, why would I want to murder your students?"

If anything, the question helped the Elder’s case. Between her nervous tone and her refusal to deny his claims, even Arran could have been convinced of her guilt had he not known the truth.

"The six adepts you killed," the Elder said, "were among our most talented students, all of them destined to become Elders. Likely, one could have become Patriarch eventually. By murdering them, you paved a path to power for your apprentice — a path that would eventually benefit you, as well."

Arran looked at the man in disbelief. The story was clearly ridiculous, so flimsy it seemed like it would fall apart at the slightest breeze. And yet, the Elders in the hall now looked at him with distrustful eyes.

"You are correct," Brightblade said loudly, all fear and hesitation suddenly gone from her voice. "I am not an adept — the one truth among the pile of lies the three of you have told today."

She stepped forward, the Elders around her looking at her warily eyes. She answered their glances with a steel gaze, her earlier fearful persona now completely gone. Then, she spoke again.

"My name is Dao Liang Jie, daughter of Dao Zhen, Patriarch of the Fourth Valley. I am an Archmage of the Shadowflame Society, Blademaster of the House of Swords, Elder of the Fourth, Sixth, and Ninth Valleys, and destroyer of the Eternal Horde."

The words caused a rush of whispers to pass through the hall, and the Elders stared at her with shocked expressions. Whatever they had expected her to be, this certainly wasn’t it.

"I came to this Valley to guide my students in peace," she continued. "But instead, I was greeted with lies, slander, and insults."

At this, the gathered Elders fell silent, many now looking at her uncomfortably.

Contempt in her eyes, she turned to the three Elders who had spoken during the meeting. "The three of you have offered me no small amount of offense today," she said. "And for that, I demand satisfaction."