10.
"The Enemy of My Enemy"
Flemeth still had the element of surprise. She had killed quickly and silently. She cared not if Morrigan cried out. It was already too late. She murdered the cultists in the manor as they slept and snuck down into the caves to find the Old God. He slumbered soundly in a small cavern off one of the side tunnels of the main chamber. Interesting, the old witch thought. Even as a human, He still felt more comfortable sleeping in a cave, as He had for the many years He resided in dragon form.
She crept unnoticed past the guards who watched over Him. It was not yet time. Flemeth's strategy was simple…the oldest method of defeating an overwhelming enemy force known…divide and conquer. She made her way to the critical juncture of the tunnel network and raised her arms. The ground beneath began to shake and rocks fell from the cave roof. Within seconds, the two tunnels that joined the main tunnel were sealed. The high dragon Naursul was cut off from Urthemiel and the cultists in the branch tunnels were buried under tons of rock. There would be no assistance for the Old God from those directions. Flemeth smiled sinisterly. The remainder of the brood would be awake now, but their numbers were considerably lessened. They would be easily dispatched.
Flemeth cut through those that blocked her path without difficulty…drakes, cultists, dragonlings…none could match her skill. None could withstand her onslaught. The old witch could hear Naursul's screeching outside the cave, the roars of anguish coming from the ancient beast as her brood was slain en masse, while she was forced to stand by helplessly. She could hear Naursul's pathetic cries in her mind, "Stop! Stop! What are you doing?" The Dragon was beside herself with shock and grief and pain. Flemeth tuned her out and advanced on the child-God.
Urthemiel was aghast. How was this happening? Why is her blood not burning? How can she be…? Where is the human mother? The younger priestess? Why is she not here defending Me, defending the brood? No one stood between Him and the old witch now. He tried to fight her with His limited power, but she fended off His meager attack.
Flemeth's lips curled into a malignant grin. Mere parlor tricks! His power was significantly less than she had anticipated. The God's arrogance and superior tone had obscured His true weakness. He had needed the Cult of Naursul far more than she realized to protect Him until He matured. 'Twould be far easier than she had thought. She moved towards him menacingly. "Come now, boy, I have no desire to harm you. I would simply have you tell me what you know. We have much to discuss. There are secrets you must share with your high priestess. When you have told me what I need to know, I will look after you and raise you to full maturity as I have done with Morrigan."
Urthemiel's eyes widened. He knew her plan for Morrigan. And He knew Flemeth had no intention of letting Him develop his full capability, when he could squash her like a bug. His only chance now was the young sorceress, the human mother. Her power was also great, and perhaps together…He must find her. Urthemiel suspected she would not be inclined to help Him after he had issued her death warrant, but He knew Morrigan recognized Flemeth as a greater threat. And perhaps, in this instance, it was a case of 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'. He would know soon enough. He ducked under Flemeth's lunge and fled the main chamber in search of Morrigan.
Flemeth cursed and turned to follow, but ran headlong into a group of Urthemiel's followers. She set about ending them. It gave Urthemiel the time He needed to get to Morrigan's room. He burst into the room and shouted, "Help Me, Priestess! I…" The child-God stopped short, seeing her predicament. His only hope was paralyzed, awaiting her own death at Flemeth's hands. His childlike face fell.
In that moment, He seemed more like a real child than Morrigan had ever seen Him. Frightened, lost. And she felt…a strange feeling…a maternal instinct…a sympathy.
He could hear Flemeth fighting her way through his worshippers. "Why does she not burn? Why do you not? Naursul and I have called for you!" He asked frantically.
"A potion to release the dragon's blood from our own…to undo the Binding. My body will burn no more," Morrigan replied.
"Then I am truly lost. If I tell her what she wishes to know, she will end Me, 'tis certain. But she will not triumph," He said, lifting His chin defiantly. He eyed Morrigan for a moment deciding that the enemy of his enemy was his friend. "I know Flemeth plans to steal your body and I know you wear a spirit charge. I can sense its power, and I can guess your plan," He admitted, indicating her ring.
Morrigan gasped. The God knew. She was undone. Flemeth had won. She had no chance now. She would never see her Warden again.
"Do not be alarmed. I will not tell Flemeth. After you have used the charge and stored your essence, you will need a way to transfer back into your body. Do you know such a spell?" He asked, knowing the magic was long since lost from common knowledge.
She shook her head sadly. "I…thought to search for it," she acknowledged lamely, knowing her chances were slim.
"I know of such an incantation. It was last known to lie in the College of Magi in Cumberland, Nevarra. If you can retrieve it, you have but to get a mage to invoke it in Flemeth's presence to recover your form. Your consciousness will replace hers and she will have no body to retreat to…she will be utterly destroyed. Flemeth may end my time on this earth prematurely, but I will not see hers extended any further. You will find a way to take back your form, and I will have my revenge," Urthemiel said grimly.
"But where? The College of Magi has a vast library of tomes. I shall never find it…" she said.
"'Tis an ancient manuscript…'The Essence of Movement - Ways and Means'. 'Twas recorded by the magisters of the Tevinter Imperium many Ages ago, when we were worshipped as we should be," He said sighing. "The Maker punished us for our hubris. We gave the magisters our secrets…we gave them their magic. They failed us and were reduced to darkspawn. But many of the volumes they wrote remain. Whether this manuscript still exists, I know not, but 'twas last known to be in Cumberland," He finished.
"'Tis a chance at least. I…my thanks, Urthemiel. 'Tis unexpected," Morrigan said.
"Flemeth has betrayed us all. She will not profit by her treachery if you are successful. See to it that you are. 'Tis the last command I will give you…" the child-God said solemnly.
With that, Flemeth burst into the room. "Ah, there you are. You have been a bad boy, Urthemiel. You will have to be punished," she chided. She cast a neutralization spell on the child and the Old God found Himself powerless. "Come, there is much I wish to know," she said, grabbing Him roughly by the ear as though He were simply a wayward street urchin.
"I will tell you nothing, witch! You will slay me either way, so I will not see you rewarded for the deed," Urthemiel said, smirking.
Flemeth tried every trick, every spell she knew to get the God to talk. But He would not reveal His secrets.
He laughed at her when she told Him she wished to command the darkspawn. "You do not have the capacity. 'Tis not something I can teach. It is a natural instinct of the darkspawn to follow their Gods of Old. You are no Goddess. You are but a pathetic pretender with a mad lust for power. This ability you will never gain. And the magic of the magisters I will not give you. The Maker has punished me enough for this transgression. I will not suffer a worse fate for repeating my folly. Do what you will, Flemeth of Highever. You will get no satisfaction from Me. I am Urthemiel, God of Beauty, worshipped by the throngs for Ages. I am superior to you in every way. Bah!" He said with contempt.
"Then you will die, you pitiful excuse for a God!" Flemeth shrieked, her eyes alight with madness.
"I will die anyway. Do not think I do not know it is so, you withered hag!" He retorted.
The old witch flew into a rage. She had not anticipated she would get nothing from the Old God. She had expected He would listen to reason. 'Twas not so. She sputtered and screamed and cursed at Him. Then she ceased railing at Him and fell eerily silent. Her eyes narrowed into slits of hatred.
"The fools that worship You will no more, and Your glory will be forgotten. Only tales of Your weakness and vanity will remain, for I shall be here to spread them," she said maliciously.
"You will follow me soon enough," the Old God said ominously.
Flemeth was livid. She raised her arms and, in a blinding flash of light so bright Morrigan had to turn away, Flemeth incinerated the child-God. Urthemiel was no more.
Flemeth smirked, "Hmmph! Weak fool! I need not your power. I have destroyed the Cult of Naursul. None can stand before me," Flemeth gloated. Then she turned to Morrigan.
"And soon, none will stand before you," she said gleefully.
Morrigan swallowed hard and shivered again, whether from the potion or Flemeth's words she was not sure. But Flemeth's meaning was clear. It was time.