2
Therese felt the tell-tale prickle of lightning across her palms as the Templar neared. She sucked in a deep breath as quietly as she could, willing the crackling light to dissipate. If the Templar saw the flicker of forming lightning in the bush, she was done for. But her anxiety was too great. The lightning surged, and a wicked sneer spread across the Templar's pitted face. He reached into the bushes, grasping blindly with a claw-like hand, until he snagged the edge of her cloak. A little further probing, and his hand closed, vice-like, on her upper arm.
Therese could hear her heart pounding in her ears as he hauled her roughly to her feet. "Look what I found, Louis. Seems you were actually right, this time."
Louis's eyes widened in excitement. "I told you. Always with the disbelief." Louis took in her terrified form with one long, slow look that curdled her stomach. "She's a pretty little thing. It's too bad she's a mage. I would not want to sully myself with her."
"You might not, but I'm not that picky," the second Templar chuckled darkly and sniffed her hair. Therese flinched.
"Don't touch me," she spat
"Ooh. Feisty little one. You see this, mage?" Louis patted a vial filled with glowing blue liquid strapped to his belt. Therese gulped. Lyrium. She'd never seen any in person before. But she knew enough about Templars to know that with just a swig of lyrium one could nullify her powers, and she would be entirely helpless. "I do not want to waste this on you, but I will. Now, be a nice little girl and play along for Bran."
"Ha," Therese scoffed and willed her voice not to shake, "You won't use that for me, even if I fight. Look at you. Dark circles beneath your eyes, sunken cheeks. The way you touch that bottle, it's like you're touching a lover. You're a lyrium addict if I've ever seen one. That's your last philter, right?"
Louis's face twisted in rage, "Shut your mouth you little bitch!" He raised his hand and struck her, hard, across the cheek. Therese's head snapped to the side, her vision darkening, then filling with stars. She felt the sting of lightning arcing across her palm, and clenched her fist. She'd never used magic to kill a man before, but the rage and pain made it a very tempting idea.
From the corner of her eye, Therese caught a flash of movement behind a tree nearby. Her panic redoubled. Another one? Her eyes darted back to her livid captors. It seemed that neither of them had noticed. She slid her eyes slowly toward the tree, catching a flash of bright red hair and the glowing tip of a staff. The presence of another mage was a minor comfort. They would not hurt her right away, at least. She spat into the dust at Louis's feet, "Do you want to see if you can down that lyrium before I can unleash my lightning?" She muttered darkly, and allowed the prickling electric current to drift upward, encircling her arm in purple light.
Bran laughed behind her, his grip tightening painfully. "Seems she wants a challenge. Think we should - "
A burst of flame caught Louis's cloak, and he cried out in alarm. "We're under attack!" He screamed, trying desperately to unlatch his cloak before the fire spread. It was futile, however. This was a mage's fire, conjured from the Fade, and the heat had already begun to form blisters around the Templar's neck. Therese froze in shock for just a moment before seizing the opportunity to loose her lightning, sending it arcing up to the gauntleted hand of the oaf who held her. His body went rigid, and she spun away from him, holding her palms outward and using the lightning to hold him in place. With his eyes wide and his mouth agape, he looked startlingly like a fish, she noticed with grim humor. An arrow whistled through the air over her shoulder, landing squarely in the center of Bran's throat. Therese banished the lightning with a flex of her fingers and watched as he fell to his knees, blood filling his mouth, and stared up at her with wide eyes that dulled as he gargled his final breath.
Vaguely, she was aware of the sounds of combat behind her, blows landing and grunts of effort as steel met steel. But her attention was fixed on the still form of the templar at her feet. She'd never actually seen a man die up close. She'd witnessed combat between mages and templars from a distance, but she was always gone by the time any fatal blows fell. The sooner she was away, the safer she would be. But this… Bran's sword arm lay curled beneath him, bent unnaturally. His other hand was still curled as though around her arm. His eyes were fixed as though staring at some far-off spectacle, though she knew they were unseeing. The world around his corpse fell into blackness until he filled her vision. She heard voices around her, two women, two men, but she could not focus on what was being said. She had a feeling that she was being asked a question, but she could not turn her head to see who had addressed her. She could not find her voice, though she knew that her mouth was opening and closing. Bile rose in her throat, and she felt her breathing grow shallow.
This is death… she thought, before falling to her knees and retching on the ground at the dead templar's feet. Her head spun as the ground rose up to meet her, and then all the world was black.