Varric Tethras was, first and foremost, a storyteller. What most seemed to forget is that to be a good one, you had to have good stories, and those were sodding hard to come by.
It had been easier around Hawke and his circle of friends. There was material there that defied what even he believed impossible, and he maintained that his most fantastic stories were those even he couldn't have made up. In his spare time, he'd gone into writing, though while his guard serial had done well, he couldn't seem to get a knack for romances.
Probably because of Hawke. In the seven years he'd been in Kirkwall, Hawke hadn't maintained a single romantic relationship to Varric's knowledge. His interpretation of a sweeping romance, competing with the other shit Hawke got into for his attentions, had understandably been below his usual standard. Even as the world fell apart around him, with the explosion at the Conclave, the Breach, and the founding of the Inquisition, Varric was always looking for things to spin into a story, always looking to set to paper what was happening and make sense of it.
The figure across from him had told him, on no uncertain terms, that his story was not to be changed. Varric's friendship with Hawke and the big man's lack of concern with the stories growing around him had allowed him to take a few liberties. Looking at the man sitting across from him, however, he couldn't muster the courage to take the same risk.
He was tall for an elf, and quite obviously Dalish, given the intricate tattoo that covered his forehead. Long red hair hung down to his shoulders, held back from his face by a headband. Piercing green eyes stared out at him, as if threatening to strip away the layers of bullshit Varric had cultivated. He did his best to ignore it. Ancestors, why do their eyes have to be so big? They're adorable on Daisy, but damn if him staring at me isn't creepy.
He was obviously a warrior, as well. Dragonbone armor of unmatched quality covered him from the neck down, and while Varric didn't doubt he had a matching helm, he'd never seen him wear it in the few fights they'd been in. The glittering blue greatsword leaned against the wall next to him provided a violent contrast.
All in all, the Hero of Fereldan scared Varric more than the Seeker ever had. But he'd offered Varric his story. He still wasn't quite sure why. Closure, maybe. To his knowledge, no one knew everything about Aegnor Mahariel. He knew all too well how liberating it could be to set the record straight.
Taking a deep breath, Aegnor began.
Freedom.
Legs pumping, wind whistling in my ears. Feet dancing, ever mindful of the roots and stones that might trip me. One mistake between me and a twisted ankle, a shattered knee, a broken neck if unlucky. Branches rushed past my head, narrowly missing as I ducked and dodged. A stream ran across the narrow game trail, brought on by the spring thaw. I leaped across without slowing. A splash followed by a curse behind me brought a smile to my face. I turned to see Tamlen lagging behind, having landed in the stream and shooting me a reproachful look. I only grinned wider. "Keep up, Da'len! Or do you want them to get away?" He huffed and sprinted after me.
I laughed and turned my head towards our current quarry: three shemlen, wandering where they should not. They wore no armor, carried no weapons, and seemed utterly terrified of the elves chasing after them. Were there two? Two dozen? Two hundred? Grinning savagely, I drew my bow from my back and began firing arrows through the trees. Firing a bow while running at full tilt is by no means accurate. Accuracy wasn't my goal, however. A little fear, a little desperation from the prey made catching them all the sweeter, and I had no doubt that the shemlen thought we were trying to kill them. They seemed a boring sort, farmers and whatnot. A little excitement was good for them.
I turned back to Tamlen and whistled to get his attention. "You go left, I'll go right!" Without waiting for him to reply, I veered off in my chosen direction. He would be annoyed with me later, but right now the hunt was too exciting for me to care. Ducking and weaving through the trees, I continued firing. The small shapes in the distance were falling over themselves trying to get away. I bet you don't even see that valley you're being herded towards, do you? I sighed. It was nice to have a hunt go well, but the prey could show some intelligence once in a while, surely?
Unfortunately not. The ground in the valley was muddy and treacherous compared to the higher ground Tamlen and I ran on, allowing us to easily outpace them. I whistled to Tamlen. He whistled back, and we both began our descent into the canyon. Dissatisfied as I was at the ease with which we caught them, the look on their faces as we burst through the trees in front of them was priceless. Can't blame them, really. I imagined what they saw. Two elves, one blonde and the other with flaming red hair and almost as tall as they were, covered with strange tattoos and clad in deerskins. We both had bows in our hands, and while I carried mine easily with an arrow nocked, Tamlen had his drawn and looked ready to fire. He glared at them. "What are you doing here, shem? You're not welcome."
The one at their head paused for a second, torn between fear and anger. Anger won. "Shut yer mouth, ya filthy knife ear! Ye've no right to keep us out!" Tamlen's eyes flashed. I didn't particularly want them dead, given the suspicion that would fall on the clan, so I stepped forward and motioned to Tamlen to lower his bow. He did, albeit unhappily. I put on a pleasant smile. "We were just having a bit of sport to remind you shemlen to keep well away from us. I usually don't kill prey if I'm not going to skin and eat it, but when it starts insulting me," I let my hand drift towards the curved steel blade I carried on my back, "I might make an exception." The leader paled and stumbled back.
The other two put up their hands and started backing away. One of them, dressed like a blacksmith and with matching forearms, spoke up. "Please, ser. We didn't know this forest belonged to the Dalish! We'll leave!" Smart boy. I let my hand drop.
Tamlen snarled. "First, tell us what you were doing here." I nodded encouragingly at the blacksmith. I'm curious as to that, myself. He hesitated, turning to see his fellows trying to inch away.
I raised my bow and gestured sharply at them. "I don't think he'd appreciate you abandoning him, would you? A bit cold if you ask me." They froze, sweating visibly. I turned to the blacksmith. "You were saying?"
He put a shaking hand into his pocket. "W-we heard 'bout a ruin 'round here, so we went 'n took a look." I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing in his face. This bear of a man stuttering like he had a chill was downright comical. "We found it, but m-monsters attacked us!"
Tamlen cut in. "Ruins? There are no ruins in these forests. A poor lie."
I was of the same mind until I noticed what the blacksmith had pulled out of his pocket. "What is that?"
He flinched. "We took it from the ruins! It was all we could find before monsters appeared!" I held out my hand and raised an eyebrow expectantly. He dropped it in my hand and jerked back, as if touching me would burn him. I looked down at it and furrowed my brow.
It was a shard of rock with intricate script covering it. It looked as if it was part of a larger piece, with jagged edges cutting off the writing. What in the-. I let out a hiss of surprise. That's elvish! I could practically feel Tamlen's curiosity, so I turned and handed it to him. "It's elvish, of that I'm certain."
He started as I said that and held it up reverently, lips moving soundlessly as he tried to make out what it said. I waved a dismissive hands at the humans. "Off with you then." As soon as the words left me, they bolted away to the North. I shook my head, chuckling. Humans. Creators, how did they manage to conquer us in the first place?
Tamlen tapped me on the shoulder, annoyed. "We're not going to kill them?"
I shook my head. "You know me, Tamlen. I'm not fond of them, but I don't kill what I'm not going to skin and eat unless it attacks me first."
"Or calls you a knife ear."
I grimaced. "True, but they learned their lesson."
Tamlen huffed. "You didn't even wait for them to point us in the right direction!"
I raised an eyebrow, amused. Before he could speak, I pointed at the muddy tracks the humans had left. "I think that's all the direction you need, oh master tracker." Predictably, he socked me on the arm in retaliation. I, of course, socked him back.
He stumbled a few steps and winced. "Yes, yes, you're freakishly strong, we get it!" He rubbed his arm ruefully. "It's like the Dread Wolf himself sent you to annoy me today."
"I blame you."
"You blame me for what YOU are doing?"
"Well, you get annoyed so easily."
"Creators, I hate you."
"Take a look at this ruin?"
"Right behind you."
"Er, Tamlen, you sure I should go first?" Ordinarily, it would be a given. I'd pushed Tamlen aside more than once when we were younger to be the first in an unexplored cave or crevice. This one, however… it felt WRONG. No birds sang in the trees around us, and no animals rustled through the undergrowth. The aura of disquiet was palpable to me, accustomed as I was to the sound of the forest. The blackness of the entrance combined with the utter silence made me feel as if I was staring into the void itself.
Tamlen smirked. "What's wrong, Da'len? Scared of a monster in the dark?"
I bristled, then bit the inside of my cheek to reply in kind. I had that coming. I hesitated a moment, then sighed. "Fine, then." I drew my sword. "But if you sneak up and try to scare me, I'm going to have to kill you." He assumed an innocent look. I rolled my eyes and started walking towards the entrance, ignoring his chuckling.
I only made it a few feet inside the entrance before I barked my shin on a stone I hadn't seen. "Fenedhis!" I swore. "Tamlen, do you have a torch?" He did, and soon the entrance was bathed in flickering light. Between the torch and our elvish eyes, we managed to make it to the first chamber without tripping over our own feet. I took note of the artistry covering the ruined walls. I imagined that it had once been very beautiful, when properly lit and bereft of the gaps that now littered it. In the unsteady light, however, it looked as if the walls were crawling.
We continued on in silence. The atmosphere that had seemed foreboding outside was downright oppressive. I listened for Tamlen's soft footfalls to reassure myself that I wasn't alone in this dank, dark place. The blade I held in front of me was equally reassuring.
Just as we crossed the threshold of another chamber, I heard a faint scuffing sound, akin to rubbing leather against stone. I inched back and turned to Tamlen. "Tamlen, do you-" I was cut off as my blade was batted aside. I stumbled back, cursing, and pulled back my blade to strike. Before I could, the creature tackled me to the ground. A choked moaning reached my ears as I felt teeth snap together just short of my nose. I forced my torch into its jaws and tried desperately to push it off of me. In the unsteady torchlight, I got my first good look.
It was a corpse, that much was certain. The nose and eyes had long since rotted away, leaving only leathery flesh stretched across its skull. Tattered garments clung to its bony limbs, though their thinness was at odds with the terrible strength they held. Blackened teeth bit into the torch and the corpse moaned again, frustrated.
These observations, however, were overshadowed by a single thought going through my brain. AAAAH! GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF! I managed to get my feet under its chest and kicked it off of me, bellowing, "TAMLEN!" Creators bless him, he didn't panic, instead planting his foot on its chest, drawing, and firing his bow in a smooth action. Seeing the arrow lodged in its throat, I dared breathe a sigh of relief.
It lay still for a moment. Without warning, it redoubled its efforts, its moaning louder and rattling around the arrow in its throat. "Watch out!" I cried. Tamlen's eyes widened as he staggered back, not fast enough to escape the horrors clawing hands dragging him to the ground. He battered it with his bow, trying to dislodge it and failing. He changed tactics and shoved his bow into its mouth as I had done with my torch, using the reprieve to draw his dagger and start stabbing it. The razor sharp point only penetrated an inch or two before getting stuck.
I shook myself out of my stupor and threw myself off of the floor. "Get off of him!" I yelled. It snapped the bow in its mouth and was about to bite Tamlen when I smashed its head in with my torch. Its ceaseless moaning turned into a shriek of agony as it caught fire. Tamlen lay sweating, terror plain on his face as it clung to him, even with its flesh burning. The unholy union off cooking meat and burning hair assaulted my nostrils. Looks like I'll have to free Tamlen the hard way. I aimed carefully with my blade before swinging backhand at the creatures arms, avoiding Tamlen by a few scant inches. The heavy blade succeeded where the dagger failed, lopping them both off at the elbow. I noted with some disquiet that the severed forearms still clung to Tamlen. With a yell, I planted my foot on its side and heaved, finally throwing it off of him.
Alright, time to get back to the Keeper and- I stared with disbelief as it pushed itself from the floor with its stumps and ran at me. What does it take to kill these things?! For the first time, I was able to get into a proper fighting stance before it was upon me. I danced out of its reach and swung, feeling my blade slice through its leathery neck, sever its spine, and finally remove its head from its shoulders, body and head clattering to the floor. The moaning ceased.
Tamlen tugged unsuccessfully at the hand still latched onto him. "Mythal save us! What children's story did that crawl out of?" I didn't answer. I wanted to tell him to keep it down, that he was being an idiot, that he might attract more of them, only to find myself gasping for breath. Cold sweat covered me, reminding me of when Merril had thawed me out after a poorly aimed ice spell. Thank the Creators you weren't here to see this, Da'len. I don't think you need the nightmares. Tamlen continued to struggle, failed, and shot me a reproachful look. "A little help, Lethallin?"
I managed to catch my breath and complied. I winced with every rotted finger I broke to free him. Speaking of nightmares, the crunch of breaking fingers is as good a fodder as I've heard. The smell wasn't helping on that front. I managed to get the first one off of him. Grimacing, I flung it away from me.
Tamlen shot me a grateful look. "Thank you, Lethallin."
I grunted. "Thank me when I get the other one off of you." I grit my teeth and started breaking fingers on the second hand. A small noise, hardly audible over the crunch, reached me. "Is that you, Tamlen?" I whispered.
Confusion colored his features. "Is what me?" I frowned. There it is again. What is… A third time. A rattling moan, directly behind me. I felt the blood drain from my face. Grabbing the torch, I wheeled around and came to my feet, blade in front of me.
Tamlen struggled to his feet, transferring his blade to his left hand now unencumbered by corpse bits. "What is it?"
I hesitated briefly, then flung the torch in the direction of the sound. For a brief, terrifying moment, I feared that my aim was off. That terror was soon replaced when the light reached them. Where the first one had been small and bony, these were larger. Rusty scale armor covered them, hanging off awkwardly where the straps had rotted or been chewed away, and notched blades glittered faintly in their grip. Even worse were the helmets and chain coifs covering their heads. Fenedhis! Cutting off their heads is going to be difficult. Do we run, or fight?
They answered that question for us, closing the distance with incredible speed. The magic animating them was powerful, to make weight of such cumbersome armor of little concern. I opened my mouth to pray, then bit my tongue. Not yet. Instead, I pushed Tamlen behind me. "I'll get their attention! Get out of here!"
He swore. I didn't look back to see if he did as I asked, instead bellowing and charging forward, sword held high.
My first strike took one under the arm as I feinted and went low, crunching through scale and breaking bones. The damage was less effective than the sheer impact, sending him flying a few feet before landing noisily. I winced at the sound of rusted steel against stone as it slid to a stop. I spun with the momentum of my swing, batting aside one of their swords with my own and smashing my fist into the face of a third. My armored glove shattered its skull and made splinters of its teeth, though the only bother I seemed to cause it was the halting of its charge. Alright, now where's the fourth one-
I opened my eyes to find myself flat on the ground, my vision blurred and my head hurting like thunder. Did I black out? Looking, up, I saw blood shining on one of their mailed fists, the one I had missed. Blood dripped down my forehead. My eyes widened as it raised its sword and thrust downwards. I batted it aside with my forearm and swung my fist downwards, driving it into the stone and snapping it in two, before planting my feet on its chest and shoving. Already top-heavy from the weight of its armor, it stumbled back and crashed to the ground with its brethren.
I scrambled back to my feet, sword in front of me, breathing hard. The last one I saw standing swung wildly at me. I frowned, dancing out of reach. There were four! Where's the last one? The one with the ruined face? There wasn't any time to worry about it. Already a second was on its feet, and the one I'd kicked wasn't far behind. I parried the corpse's second swing and swiped at its thigh, where its armor had rusted away. The heavy blade sheared through it easily. I stepped inside its reach and grabbed it by the neck, throwing it at the corpse I had first struck. Pushing past them as they disentangled themselves, I hacked at the neck of the one still on the ground. The first strike smashed the mail, the second smashed through its spine. It went blessedly limp.
I turned my head wildly, trying to find the fourth one. My ears found it first. I heard the clash of metal on metal nearby. "Tamlen! I told you to get out of here!"
His reply rang through the darkness. "If I had, you'd be dead!" I grinned despite myself. Don't die, Lethallin. I need someone to tell me what a cocky idiot I am. A blade whistling towards me reminded me that ME living wasn't a sure thing either. Cursing, I struck back.
The three of us wheeled around in circles for what felt like hours. Their utter disregard for their bodies made them easy to hit, but these two had mostly intact armor. Fending off two of them coupled with their lack of fatigue meant that slowly, but surely, I was losing ground. One of their blades made it through my bracer, leaving a shallow cut that stung like fire. Blood sheeted from my bleeding forehead, blinding me every few seconds. A blow to my ribs throbbed. I didn't know if any were cracked. The bruise will be impressive, at the very least. I needed a change of tactics. When I bumped into Tamlen, I had my answer.
We stood, fighting back to back. "Can you hold off two of them for a few seconds?" I yelled. It echoed painfully off the wall, mixing with the clash of swords.
Mercifully, he nodded, understanding. "On three?"
I narrowly avoided taking a blade to the gut. They were constantly rushing, and backed up against Tamlen as I was, three seconds was too late. "THREE!" I swiveled to face Tamlen's foe, catching a glimpse of him as I did. He was in bad condition. For every injury I'd taken, it looked like he'd taken four. A goodly amount of blood covered him, all of it his. In the flickering torchlight, I saw the desperation in his eyes. Creators forgive me if I have killed my friend.
I bellowed in rage, lashing out at the corpse that had injured my friend. I struck high. Die! I struck low. Die! I struck, filled by fear and desperation, knowing that every second I spent on this one was another second Tamlen was fighting for his life. Armor split beneath my blade, staggering the corpse before it could strike back. Fortunately, one of my blows managed to knock off its helmet, allowing me lop off its head with a backhanded swing. I wheeled around and rushed towards Tamlen.
He had looked bad before. Now, he looked like Falon'Din himself was coming to claim him. His sword lay on the floor some ten feet away from him. Blood poured down his left arm from a deep cut, and in his left hand was his dagger, trying desperately to keep their blades from his innards. Creators, I'm a fool! I took a deep breath as I ran, raised my sword, and threw it as I exhaled. It struck one of them high in the chest, sending it reeling. I ran past and backhanded it, trying to get it away from Tamlen as I tackled the second one.
Thankfully, its helm was open faced. Without hesitating, I slammed my right fist into its rotted skull. I moaned at me, clacking its teeth, trying to hack at me with its sword. I batted it aside and punched it again. And again. Over and over I rained blows down on it, ignoring the crunching, the squelching sounds as I drew my fist back for another.
A scream from Tamlen made me stop. I lurched to my feet, seeing Tamlen's dagger fly through the air, the sword rising and falling towards my friend, my BEST friend, and charged. I managed to knock it off balance and cause its strike to go wide. Gasping for breath, I grabbed onto its throat as it battered me with its off hand, trying to dislodge me. I squeezed and pulled. It's head now attached only by the smallest strings of flesh, it slumped back, dangling, before tearing free of the body and dropping to the floor. The incessant moaning, near constant for the past few minutes, finally stopped.
I coughed. "Tamlen? Are you-" I started coughing again, the dust raised in the scuffle finally catching up to me.
"Am I what? More handsome than you?" I coughed again, this time with a smile on my face. Ass. I saw his face reappear in the torchlight, pale but grinning. "You don't stand a chance. My face doesn't look like the Dread Wolf chewed up and spit it out."
I drew myself to my full height, swaying slightly, eyebrow raised. "Oh? The raven calls the crow black. You look like death, Lethallin."
His grin faltered. "I'm not feeling great either. Did you prepare any poultices?" I had, and set about administering them. They were basic, designed to keep one going until magic or a few days rest could be had. They were a good deal better than bleeding out, however, and they managed to get Tamlen and I back into walking shape. My right hand was another story. The bones were cracked at the least, and the throbbing told me that at least one was broken. There were shard of bone that had made it through my leather gloves, and I'm certain that I missed more than a few in the uncertain light.
Tamlen shook his head. "Thank the Creators you were the one with me, Aegnor. I don't think any of the others would've been as lucky."
I offered a forced smile. "That's what friends are for, Tamlen. Breaking faces and insulting each other."
He huffed. "I was being serious."
"You smell like corpse dust."
"W-what?"
"See, I was being serious too. Insults and broken faces."
"You're impossible."
I chuckled. "Are you trying to propose to me? I do not see a wolf pelt. Tsk. What would the other hunters say?"
Tamlen laughed. "Don't drag me down that path. You know I don't share your tastes."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "You sure? Merril thinks we look ADORABLE together!"
He shook his head. "Merril would probably find a dragon adorable, it doesn't mean I want one pulling my aravel."
"So I'm a dragon now? The part about pulling your aravel is just you playing hard to get, but the rest sounds fine."
He punched me on the shoulder. "Shut up, you." I winced, but kept grinning. He dusted his hands off and went to retrieve his weapons. Not trusting my right hand, I grabbed my own blade in my left. "You ready to find who reanimated these things?"
I blanched. "Creators, no! I don't fancy fighting more of these things left handed!"
Tamlen rolled his eyes. "If there were more to throw at us, they'd have tried to kill us. It'd make no sense to have them fight us only four at a time! Think about it."
I sighed. "You're going to go after them anyway, aren't you?"
"I generally do that to those that try to kill me with black magic."
I snorted, not at all pleased with his thinking. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this is the first time someone has tried to kill you period, let alone with black magic."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, I see your point." I relaxed slightly. "Now are you coming with me or not?" Tension it is then.
I started to respond hotly, to tell him what an idiot he was, then closed my mouth and slumped my shoulders. "You're going anyway, aren't you?"
He smirked. "You know me too well, Lethallin."
"Remind me why we're friends."
"Because I get you into the fun kind of trouble." I wasn't sure if it was the accuracy or the flippancy of that statement scared me more. He made a conciliatory gesture. "Alright, I'll stop prodding. We'll scout out as far as we can, and if we see any sign of danger we run for it."
It was the best I could hope for. "Done." I forced a smile on my face. "I never miss a chance to beat you in a sprint."
He offered a mock scowl. "Jump in a snow bank, Aegnor."
I grinned. "Only if I get to throw you in headfirst."
"Hmph. I suppose I should be glad that the spring thaw came early."
"It's not my day, is it?"
"Not at all. Let's get moving."
We continued deeper into the ruin, conscious of the fact that our torch wouldn't last forever. Few elves are afraid of the dark, given our superior night vision, but the thought of being stuck in here with no light to make my way out put some spring in my step.
That said, the ruin itself was fascinating. From what I could tell, the architecture was human in origin. Probably Tevinter, I thought, noting many similarities with the Imperial Highway running through Fereldan. I shook my head. As vile and corrupt as the Tevinter Imperium had been at its height, even I had to admire the artistry and skill that went into creating this place.
What did stick in my craw, however, was the abundance of elven artifacts incorporated into the design. We passed several statues of an unknown metal, which glittered far more in the torchlight than I would have expected and, upon inspection, seemed to be easily harder than steel if my newly blunted dagger was anything to judge by. The statue wasn't even scratched. Tamlen cursed at my disregard for relics of our people before I managed to mollify him, saying that if they'd survived thousands of years and a necromancer, then my dagger wasn't the worst they'd been through. They'd probably traveled the length of Thedas to be placed here, at the pleasure of the Tevinter Magisters who had enslaved us. That we Dalish had access to these ruins while Tevinter was corralled in its own small corner of the world was a pleasing one.
Despite my fascination, however, the tension of empty room after empty room was wearing on me. Tamlen relaxed, seeing it as a sign that he was right. As much as I wanted to agree with him, there was something wrong about this place, some vague sense of foreboding about it that seeped into my bones. Having to rely on my left hand to defend myself did nothing to assuage it.
Then, we found the mirror.
After a long moment of silence, Varric leaned forward expectantly. "And?" He didn't think that Aegnor was deliberately trying to hide anything. He'd come to him, after all, not the other way around. Varric grinned inwardly, remembering the expression on the Seeker's face when faced with the prospect of relying on him. After a moment of observation, however, it was clear that the Warden's pensive expression wasn't one of trying to put events in order. In that moment, those big sodding elvish eyes looked exactly like Hawke's. Tired, sad, and full of regret.
Aegnor let out the breath he'd been holding in a rush and shook his head ruefully. "My apologies, Varric. It's… it's been a while since I've said aloud what happened in that ruin."
Varric leaned back, deciding that it was safer to avoid pressing him. Andraste's ass, when was it ever a good idea to press Aegnor? His casual disregard for what he found unimportant was as legendary as his skill with a blade. "Take your time, Red. Maker knows some stories have given me trouble." Bartrand, you nug-humping bastard. The Seeker's casual acceptance of him having to kill his own brother still irked him, almost as much as her lack of caring that remembering it was painful in and of itself.
Aegnor smiled faintly. "Red? Honestly, I'd expected better from a storyteller of your reputation."
Varric spread his hands helplessly. "What? You can't expect me to have a good one lined up at a moment's notice!"
Aegnor raised an eyebrow. "I'm telling you my story, one that no one else knows in its entirety, and you can't even give me a good nickname in return? For shame, Master Tethras." He tsked.
Varric huffed. "Fine." He thought for a minute, tapping his chin. "How about… Wildfire?"
It was amusing to see surprise on Aegnor's face. "How'd you come up with that?"
Varric shrugged. "You have red hair, red armor, you swing around a giant flaming sword, and you're both unbelievably destructive and highly unpredictable in where you'll turn up."
Aegnor considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "It'll work, I suppose." He grinned briefly, then assumed a more sober expression. "Alright, then. I can't put off telling such a critical part of the story. I have to relive the actions of a foolish young elf, who wanted nothing more than to keep his friend safe and make it back home."
"If you ne-"
"No!" He cut off Varric sharply, then continued softly. "No. It's time this came to light."
The sight of it took my breath away. I didn't need to look at Tamlen to know that he was similarly affected. Half again as tall as I was, it was mounted in a frame carved in the likeness of grown vines, though the detail was such that I wondered if the ancient elves hadn't found a method of petrifying living plants for decoration. Set on a dais, it was obvious that it was of some importance to the Tevinters, though what it might be used for other than vanity I couldn't imagine. Though, in all fairness, excessive vanity was well in line with what I knew of the ancient magisters.
The mirror itself, however, was what enthralled us. To call it beautiful, captivating, would be akin to calling month old carrion a tad ripe. Instead of showing a mere reflection, it appeared to shift and waver with the air currents. Hints of various colors, an astounding variety, made themselves known. Elgar'nan, it looked alive.
Such was our captivation that I didn't notice us walking closer until had reached the steps to the dais. In a flash of clarity, I regained my senses. The foreboding in by bones was growing stronger with each unwilling step I took. Every fiber of my being was shouting at me, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG! I grit my teeth, trying to stop, and succeeded for a brief moment, shaking visibly with the effort. That's when the song hit me.
Imagine the softest, subtlest song you have ever heard. Imagine that the skeins of music that make your foot tap, that make you start humming, instead caused you to walk. You may be aware of it, and desperately want to fight it, but you inevitably react to it in one way or another. This song was far more subtle than that, and there was only one way to react: to walk forward. Even more difficult to ignore was the aching beauty of the song. Even as my being sang wrongness, it sang rightness back, and grew stronger with every step I took. With the last bit of willpower I could muster, I turned my head to see if Tamlen was fighting it, to see if we could give each other the strength to resist. What I saw made my blood turn to ice.
He was several steps ahead of me, far too many to have attempted any form of resistance. I couldn't find it in me to blame him. Not for his insistence on venturing further into this place, not for his lack of desire to fight the song, nothing. A hunter he may be, but he was a child. And I knew then that I was a child too. No child would have stood by and watched his friend give in to something this insidious.
In that instant, something snapped inside of me. I saw events play out clearly. Tamlen would touch the mirror, and he would die. I would touch the mirror, and I would die, howling and cursing within my own mind as my body betrayed me, as I watched my best friend die. I found some hidden font of willpower inside of me, and rushed forward, fully embracing the song. As I came abreast of Tamlen, I used every bit of it to break its control over my left arm, snapping it out and pushing him off of the dais. His shocked expression as he fell, saw me rush towards the mirror, told me that the spell had been broken, however temporarily. I smiled at him sadly. "Ir abelas, Lethallin. Dareth Shiral." I saw his lips move in response, but his words never reached my ears. The song obliterated any other noise.
I barreled headlong into the mirror, the song resisting my attempts to slow down. I saw more and more flickering images in the mirror, surrounding my terrified reflection.
The second my forehead touched its surfaced, I was no longer there.
A bewildering array of images assaulted me, no longer as pictures, but as if I were there. Had my spirit been able to, I have no doubt I would have vomited at the dizzying speeds I was traveling, first to a desolate wasteland strewn with the bones of giant beasts, then to a forest temple shining in the afternoon sun. Dozens followed: a harbor carved from marble and strewn with chains, a massive city I thought in Tevinter if the elven slaves were any indicator, a dusty room filled with valuables. Finally, my spirit was dragged to a city. I gasped at the sight.
It was massive, easily larger than any of the others I'd been shown. It was easily ten miles across at its widest point, and was far longer lengthwise. A gap in the buildings along its length with bridges crossing it suggested it had been built around a river, though the eerie lack of running water coupled with the multitude of collapsed buildings suggested that this city was old. Very, very old. I couldn't begin to place the architecture, particularly given how far up I was.
It took me a second to realize that, despite the even lighting, it was underground as well. The lack of shadows gave the city an eerily flat look, and try as I might I couldn't place the color of the illumination. I had no way of telling if the light was some form of magic, or if the mirror was giving me a means of seeing what was shown.
At the center of the city, curled up at the top of a massive spire, the only one not collapsed or ruined in some way, was a dragon. Even after what I had seen, my jaw would have dropped had I been able to. Comparing it to the doorways and windows I assumed were designed for humans, the dragon was gigantic, easily five times taller than me at the shoulder. I forced myself to look closer, curiosity overriding my abject terror. It opened the eye facing me, easily as large as my head, and held my gaze for a long moment. It was astonishingly lucid, looking for all the world like one of my eyes on a larger scale instead of a lizard's, bright green and intelligent. The last thing I remember before being slammed back into my body was wishing that Tamlen could have seen what I had seen. I'll see you in the beyond, my friend. I'll wait for you and Merril, and tell you all about it. I think I smiled at the thought as the mirror blasted me off my feet. Imagining Merril's wide eyed wonder was a happy thing in death.
Varric was leaning forward, straining to hear what Aegnor was saying. His voice had grown soft over the course of the telling, which combined with its rasp made it difficult to understand what he was saying.
Had he not been so close, he may not have noticed the welling of tears in his eyes.
"I did die, you know."
Varric jerked himself out of his reverie and frowned. "What? No you didn't. You wouldn't be here tugging at my heartstrings if you had."
Aegnor shook his head. "When Duncan found me, he said that there was no trace of warmth in my limbs, no pulse, no breath. Given the blow to the head I'd taken being slammed into the wall, it seemed like there was no way I could have survived in any case. He only took me back to my clan because he knew they were nearby, and he was friends with Marethari."
Varric nodded, smiling. "Daisy told me about him. Said that it, 'looked like a squirrel had grabbed hold of his chin'." He said, trying and failing to imitate Merril's voice. Aegnor chuckled. Varric joined him for a second, then grew serious. "In any case, you have my sympathy for what happened. I've lost enough friends to know how much it hurts."
Aegnor tensed. "He wasn't dead either."
"What?!"
"You heard me. The mirror didn't kill him. Not directly, anyway."
Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Daisy told Hawke and I that the mirror killed Tamlen and made you sick. Was she wrong?"
Aegnor nodded, grimacing. "Unfortunately. Given what happened, I wish it had killed him."
Varric sighed. "Fine, fine. I'm not going to be like the Seeker and try to skip ahead. If you want me to know, you'll tell me."
Aegnor smiled tightly. "I appreciate it. And I won't hold back anything important, I promise you."
I woke to the feeling of droplets falling onto my cheeks. Is it raining? How could it be, if I'm in a cave? Looking around, it was obvious I wasn't in a cave, even with everything out of focus. My eyes were full of grit, and refused to open fully. Worse was my throat, which had a texture reminiscent of sand. I opened my mouth to try to speak, and managed only to sound more a corpse than those I had killed.
I heard a gasp. "Aegnor?" Merril? "AEGNOR!" I wheezed as I was engulfed in a crushing hug. I still can't reconcile her tiny frame with how hard she could hug me. While highly unpleasant, the squeezing had the benefit of opening my eyes fully, seeing as they felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. I relaxed slightly when I recognized the inside of Marethari's aravel, before being reminded of my acute need to breathe. My weak flailing and strangled gasps eventually got across the message that I was in dire need of water and not being squeezed to death, and an hour later, having gorged myself and addressed a thirst I doubted I would ever quench, I could think clearly. Marethari, who had heard the commotion, waited for me to regain my voice before asking questions.
And ask she did. "Where is Tamlen, Da'len? Duncan brought you back a corpse, and said that Tamlen was nowhere to be found."
I raised my head sharply. "What do you mean, nowhere to be found?"
She looked at me sadly. "No body, no tracks, no sign of where he might have gone or what might have happened to him."
I bolted upright, surprised at how little my body protested, stopped only by Marethari's hand on my chest. A frail old elf she may be, but that hand might have been made of iron. Fighting against it never occurred to me. "We need to find him. NOW!"
"Da'len, wai-"
"And who is Duncan? If there is a Dalish with that name, I'll eat my quiver."
"He's-"
"Do we have hunters out? I can lead them to the ruin, it's-"
"Da'len!" She did not raise her voice, but the command in her voice was no less clear. "Hush. Do not think you are the only one grieving for Tamlen. What can be done is being done. What you can do is tell us what happened."
I held her gaze, furious as only a young man could be, before slumping back. "Ma nuvenin, Keeper." I told them all that had transpired. It was miserable, and grew more so the further I went as the realization struck me that Tamlen was gone. I wept, then. Not as I do now, with some semblance of dignity. My tears ran freely, only to dry on my cheeks and leave my eyes red and raw, and be washed away by fresh tears as I was wracked with fresh sobs. Merril did her best to comfort me, only to descend into a lower state than mine. Marethari was impassive, yet I could feel sympathy radiating from her.
I did not, however, tell them what I had seen in the mirror, instead speaking of terrible nightmares and crippling pain. I was determined to halt even Merril's curiosity towards the cursed thing. It wrenched my heart to see them react to my words. I have no doubt they thought Tamlen had died in even greater pain than I had, and it was then that I saw the first tears appear on Marethari's face.
I took a shaky breath, wiping the tears from my face. "That's all I remember before waking up here and Merril attacking me." That got a chuckle out of Marethari, and Merril blushed furiously. The levity soon faded, however, leaving us with nothing but awkward silence. Tamlen was gone, and we had just laughed. It's not wrong to want to make people smile, I rebuked myself. Unsurprisingly, it didn't help.
It was Duncan that saved us. Considerably taller than even myself, he had to stoop to get into the aravel. His armor and weapons were undeniably human, and his scruffy beard made him easily the least elf-like man imaginable. Despite his appearance, Marethari inclined her head respectfully. "Duncan. I trust that your search went well?"
His keen eyes sought out mine for a brief moment. Upon seeing that I was lucid and upright, his face shifted slightly. I stared back at him, determined to know what had caused it. Despite my efforts, he was inscrutable beyond that small reaction. He turned back to Marethari and shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. I was unable to find any trace your hunter, nor the necromancer who reanimated those corpses."
I cocked my head, feeling as if I was several steps behind everyone else. I considered being polite, but seeing that weathered face gave me the impression of a warrior, not a talker. Bluntness, then. "Who are you to take such an interest in our affairs?"
Marethari moved to reprimand me, but Duncan beat her to the punch. "I am Duncan, of the Grey Wardens. I was the one who found you and brought you back. As for why I am here, I was tracking a darkspawn necromancer, whose handiwork you've seen for yourself. Unfortunately, like your friend, his trail goes cold at the mirror."
His words brought me up short. The Grey Wardens supposedly weren't concerned by race or background, and the respectful way Duncan had addressed me seemed to confirm it.
That left one question. "What happened to the mirror?"
Duncan grew solemn. "I destroyed it. I understand it was a relic of your people, but it was too late to save it. I suspect the Necromancer used it in some manner to escape me, and in doing so tainted the mirror. It was that taint that knocked you unconscious."
I stiffened. Darkspawn taint. I had to know. "You said it was the taint that did this to me?" A slow nod. "Then am I… am I tainted?" Another nod. I slumped.
Merril let out a cry of shock. "You can't be tainted! The Keeper healed you when Duncan brought you back, even if you weren't breathing at the time. She can cure anything!"
Marethari shook her head. "No, Merril. I cannot cure anything. If what Duncan says is true, then no magic will cure Aegnor. The Blight has always been an anathema to magic. Only fire can cleanse it, and Aegnor would not survive such a process." I winced. Immolation. Nice to know that it's not an option.
Merril looked stunned. After a few heartbeats, she turned slowly to me. "Are you… are you going to die?" She choked back a sob. Her next words were a whisper. "Creators save me, I can't lose you too."
I was dangerously close to tears myself. I had failed. My friend was gone, almost certainly dead, and I was on my way to join him. In my heart, I knew there was nothing I could have done once we entered that room. It offered no comfort.
Duncan cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I may have a solution, if you're willing to hear it. First, however, I have some questions for Aegnor. Privately, if I may." Marethari nodded unhappily, and led Merril out of the aravel.
Once they were out of earshot, Duncan made himself more comfortable and fixed his shrewd eyes on me. "I stumbled on a curious sight in the ruin."
I frowned. "Oh?"
He remained impassive. "Four rotting corpses, all within close proximity of each other, all of them armed and armored. I can only assume that they were reanimated, given the condition I found them in."
I grimaced. "One of them had a smashed in face, I take it?"
He nodded. "All of them had been mortally wounded in one way or another. More curious was your right hand. Your Keeper tended to your injuries, but when I found you it had bone fragments deeply embedded."
I tapped my leg, impatient. "What do you want, Duncan? Yes, Tamlen and I killed them. Or re-killed them. And one of them had strong armor around its neck, so I had to rely on… unconventional tactics."
His eyes glittered. "Tell me, if you would."
I sighed tiredly. "How is this important? You could ask Marethari, I told her what happened."
"I would rather hear it from you."
I looked at him for a long moment, then rested my face in my hands. "Fenedhis. Fine. You want the gory details, I'll give them to you."
I gave him a longer description than the one I'd given Marethari, easily remembering the fight beat for beat. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd forget, and Duncan was nothing if not a captive audience. He fixed me with a long look, searching for something, though I knew not what.
After a moment, he nodded, satisfied with what he had found. "I imagine you need time to stretch your legs. I will speak with your Keeper. She will let you know when you are needed." With that, he turned and made his way out of the aravel.
