Dead of Night
9:57 Dragon Age
Minrathous, capital of the Tevinter Imperium – it rose as the centre of the old world once before, and despite that much was lost during the ages, nothing could ever tear it away from the magisters' grasp… because dreadful were the mage-lords in their greed and even more so when their dominion was in peril.
Shrines, built in the honour of the gods, adorned the city many ages ago, with the Temple of Dumat as the crown jewel – now reduced to hollow remnants, tangled in the dust. Its twin structure, however, had a different fate or so it was claimed. Shrouded in the mists of the High Reaches, there rests an abandoned chapel with walls black as the starless sky. The Lorem Garrison was the name they had bestowed upon the towering structure and it was deemed sacred above all else. Only disciples and magisters of the highest rank were permitted to walk through the gates, any trespasser being killed in an instant. Yet the dawning of the First Blight augured the final days of the Order and its followers were executed without mercy.
Few dare to venture near the decrepit ruins, fearful of the unnatural stillness that hovers over the place. It is said that the garrison has developed a will of his own and would attempt to ensnare any poor soul, unfortunate enough to go astray. Others may aver that wraiths cross the weakened Veil each night, seeking solace from the Fade's empty wastes and haunting the inner sanctums down beneath. In truth, the nature of the chapel dwellers was far more terrible than that of mere forlorn spirits which sought life among the dead.
Radiant and sinister alike, the moon loomed out of the clouds, revealing the desolated sepulcher for a few split seconds, while the wind carried the far-away lament of the waves, pounding against the steep shores. Startled by this ominous scenery, the trees shivered their bare branches, before falling again into slumber. Just then, a shadow crept under the old arcades, pursuing undauntedly its path towards the main temple. The doors opened with a stretched creek and shut back again, echoing throughout the huge chambers. In utter silence, the pale light chased the unknown trespasser, crawling through the wide cracks in the walls. As if inspirited by the dim glow or, perhaps, in its acknowledgement, the paintings engraved on the walls gained an eerie appearance, becoming a living memory in sheer motion. This whole spectacle was unfolding in the oversight of a huge statue, depicting the patron god Dumat in its dragon shape.
After glancing throughout the chamber, the intruder swaggered towards the altar, ignoring the persistent gaze of the ghastly effigy. The white marble of the pedestal still retained the blood stains from the victims whose lives were violently ended on the cold stone, for the glory of the gods. Various symbols adorned the sideways of the altar, but the man's gaze fell on the one in the shape of a sun. He bended down and pushed the symbol then withdrew a few steps back. The slab near the pedestal moved slowly aside, revealing a hidden staircase. Without hesitating, the man ventured down the stairs, while the slab closed back above him. As he advanced through the pitch-dark hallway, a harsh and broken echo, carried by a sudden draft bore the following words: "The sound of your beating heart is not being suffered."
The man stopped, feeling a cold blade pressing upon his neck.
"Forgive me, as my... weakness," he uttered, giving out a sigh before the last word, "...is of my own doing."
"Your atonement is accepted for now, acolyte," the voice answered.
A sudden flash of light from a burning torch made the man shield his eyes and stagger a few steps back.
"Dammit!" he shouted. "I've already given you the password."
The guardian grinned, revealing its ugly teeth. His helmet covered most of his face, including the eyes, and he was all dressed up in rags and scraps of metal.
Getting used to the light, the man looked in abhorrence at the hideous figure in front of him.
"Ah, Damon! I should have recognised you from the start," said the guardian, lowering his blade. "Alas, after all this time you still haven't managed to pass by me, inconspicuously. Perhaps next time I won't be so kind."
Damon crossed his arms and returned a sardonic smile. He was average in height, rather skinny than muscular and had an oval face - overall pleasant in features yet nothing impressive. His raven-black hair hanged loose above his shoulders, contrasting with the pallor of the skin.
"I cannot help sensing another presence with you, tonight. Has the young acolyte dabbled too much in the forbidden magic?" spluttered the guard, bursting out into laughter which sounded more like a shriek.
"Your senses must be wrong, demon," the man replied in his defence.
Gloating over the enmity so generously reflected by Damon's hazel eyes, the foul creature answered with a jeer as it disappeared down the dark corridors.
A few candles burned brightly in the main hall, relieving the gloom which reigned at that late hour. Displeased to see that the chamber was not empty, Damon wavered a few moments before entering. The Rivaini swordsman, Sayyid, stood at the other end of the hallway and smiled upon noticing the acolyte who attempted to sneak past him.
"Not so fast, Damon. I need to have a word with you," said the man.
Damon turned reluctantly and answered with cold courtesy:
"Ah, Sayyid! Always a pleasure to talk to you. Are you still training the young apprentices in becoming future swordsmen? Well, you know my opinion that magic is a more powerful asset but no one can deny your utility in a potential battle."
"Magister Kane has requested your immediate presence," the man replied, ignoring Damon's words. Although deep and calm, his tone held a befitting commanding touch, while the intricate tattoos which adorned his face amplified the warrior's intimidating appearance.
"Tell the magister that I will honour him with my presence tomorrow. I've barely just arrived and-"
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. You see, one who chooses to defy Magister Kane in such manner would only end up being thrown into the Pit of Sorrows."
Damon's face grew livid for a second, much to Sayyid's delight.
"Yes, you know what resides down there, don't you? The very souls of the ones who were sentenced to death without bearing any guilt. All five hundred disciples of Dumat were thrown there, after they were killed."
"Your stories do not frighten me like they once did, old friend," said Damon, after regaining his composure.
"Ah, but I haven't finished. They say, however, that the disciples couldn't die... that they remained trapped, in the dark, consuming the living essence of those unfortunate enough to tread upon their domain."
"As if twisted spirits were the only thing that could kill you in those lower caverns. The ones who are thrown there most probably die of starvation… not a very pleasant death either. At any rate, I already know the story, Sayyid. You told it to me on the first day I've arrived here, remember?"
"And you were all filled with shivers just as you are now. Just that back then you didn't use to hide your fear behind smartass comments," Sayyid said.
"I also happen to know that only traitors are sent to the pit. Tell me, am I being accused of anything?"
"Have you done anything that may be considered as lack of loyalty?" Sayyid asked with a stern expression on his face.
"No... of course not. My only will is to serve the gods and herald their returning."
"Then you have nothing to worry about," he answered, grinning. "Come, we do not want magister Kane to be growing impatient."
Damon followed Sayyid through the tangle of narrow passages, holding back any mutinous impulses. The radiant bluish light coming from the torches barely disturbed the unnatural darkness that filled the tunnel. Damon recalled the first time he entered the Order's headquarters. Upon asking Sayyid about the strange beacons, the warrior grinned and explained their utility: "Ah, yes. You're one of the few novices to ask about their peculiarity. They serve as a means to induce confidence or shall I say overconfidence to any unwanted trespasser. As you've probably noticed, they don't offer much light to illuminate this whole passage. However, they seem rather pleasant to gaze upon, in this complete obscurity. Fills you with hope, doesn't it? Not to mention that the dazzling flames keep you distracted from noticing anything else like the fact that this passage is constantly being guarded. There are wards, similar to the one you've met at the entrance, even though you do not see them. Well, I should also probably tell you that this darkness is actually a poisonous cloud, meant to mess with your head. Need not worry; it is only lethal if breathed in large quantities. In time, you'll learn to fight back its effects."
As the heavy door opened in front of them, Damon relapsed into a state of disquiet. The chamber was in contrast with the general dreary appearance of the underground temple. Huge and imposing, it maintained a solemn atmosphere, echoing from the days of the old and almost bringing back to life a long forsaken world. Stairs, carved directly into stone, climbed up in spirals, leading to higher levels and presumably to the outer temple.
The magister stood aside, skimming through an old tome and seemingly oblivious, while another mage-acolyte strutted forward to greet the newcomers.
"It is late, Damon, very late indeed. Some may wonder, and rightfully so, whether your loyalty is still pledged to our cause."
His pale blues eyes glinted with malice.
"Do not take my absence for treachery, Silas. I can assure you that if my intentions had been indeed as dishonest as you portrayed them to be, I would not have returned here-"
"You would have been dead," said magister Kane, putting the book aside and fixing Damon with a cold stare. "I hope you understand that."
A sudden chill filled the air as he uttered the words.
"Now then, are there any explanations for this most unfortunate delay?"
"There have been several complications. Five of the seekers are dead but one managed to escape."
"So, in other words, you let one of the seeker spies go. Not very surprising up until now," said Silas.
"That was not the case," Damon retorted. "We had to bring the chase to a halt after Vyrantium because of the ongoing battles with the Qunari in the northern regions. As you can see, the chances that she would be reporting back anytime soon are very few if any at all." He stressed on the last words, giving Silas a defiant glare. There was a growing tense atmosphere, mainly due to the magister's calm appearance.
"Mere assumptions do not back up for your failure," he said. "However, I am more interested to hear about your second task. You did manage to recover the seekers' documents… or am I now the one to make a false assumption?"
There was little point in stalling the inevitable any longer. Silas would of course relish the predicament yet the magister was not so predictable.
"I do not have them," Damon heard himself say, staggered to realize how simple it was to admit his failure and continued on the same confident tone. "One of those mindless mage-hunters burned all the papers."
Infuriated by the news, magister Kane stepped forward towards Damon whose demeanor was even more disturbing as he seemed on the verge of bursting into a gale of laughter.
"She threw everything into the fire, including the scrolls concerning the old repository."
"Would she be the same one who escaped? Oh, you've signed your death sentence this time," said Silas, anxious to see the magister's reaction.
"Quite the irony-"
"I believe we've had just about enough of your jesting, thank you."
Without any notice, the magister drew out his sword and hit Damon with its iron hilt, knocking him down. The latter pressed his hand to his forehead, gasping in pain. He pondered upon the idea of fighting back but quickly abandoned such thoughts as the sword's blade rested ominously against his chest.
"You know, it really saddens me to lose one of my best mages but I believe that sparing your life is a luxury I cannot afford… If there is anything you wish to add, I would suggest thinking before opening your mouth."
Damon's head kept pounding as blood oozed from the wound.
"Even though I didn't get the chance to read the scrolls, they were planning to head out for Marothius… still, I managed to overhear their conversation at the inn, the night before-"
"Is this going anywhere? Because my patience is waning fast."
"The key lies hidden under the gaze of one hundred guardians – that's what one of them said. It must be an excerpt from the writings."
"Master Kane, we shouldn't waste time with him; he would say anything to get away. And besides, what is the connection with Marothius? It is just a remote, mountain village," said Silas.
"The mountain range in the area is called the Hundred Pillars, oh wise one," Damon retorted. "It seems that they have associated the text to that location."
The magister reflected for a moment on the new information.
"You do realize that this isn't making up for the fact that the ancient manuscripts, which possibly contained references to the dragon gods, are nothing but a pile of ash. However, it would be a pity not to look more into this and find out what those chantry dogs were after… and you are just the right person," he said to Damon who turned a puzzled stare. "Bring back anything useful and I might forget about this embarrassing setback. Return empty-handed and… well, I'm sure you can figure that one all by yourself."
"Master Kane, I am afraid that I must protest! His last mission wasn't just a minor failure – it was a disaster. We cannot entrust him with something of such great importance-"
"Have I specifically requested any advice from you on this matter?" he asked, obviously irritated but not losing his temper.
"I was merely making an observation-"
"Answer the question, Silas."
"No…"
"Precisely. That is why I would highly recommend you to stop fiddling around and make yourself useful."
"As you wish," he said while taking a bow, then headed towards the door. His face was twisted into a dark scowl as he gazed towards Damon. "This is not over," Silas hissed and flounced out of the chamber.
"I think his tiny black heart just broke… really brings a tear to the eye."
"You have been appointed a task, Damon, and you would do well not to screw things up this time. Now, get out of my sight!"
He obeyed the magister's order, without making any other remarks. It was surprising to still be alive yet everything relied upon the accuracy of the seekers' judgement. The fragment could've held other meaning as well, if any at all. Damon thought about Silas's last threat, wondering if the mission's failure was indeed an ill-fated coincidence or something else.