Chapter 10: The Return
"I've learned two lessons living in Kirkwall, Seeker. The first is, that no matter how weird shit gets, it can always get weirder."
Varric sighed as he lost himself in thought, he had not thought about that day on Sundermount, not for a very long time.
Sometimes, he wished that he could forget it completely.
The Seeker crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to continue.
"And…the second?" she inquired.
He smiled.
"The second was make sure that Hawke was close by when the weird shit went down," he said, shaking his head.
His smile faded.
"I miss having her here; she always knew how to make things better."
Cassandra sneered at that statement.
"I've seen the state of Hightown Varric," she said.
"I would not call what happened when the Champion was around…better."
The dwarf shrugged dismissively.
"Things got bad at the end, Hawke did her best."
Again Cassandra snorted.
"We shall see," she said.
The dwarf sighed heavily.
"What happened on Sundermount that day that was the first time I learned the lessons I just spoke of. Sundermount is not the most pleasant place in the Free Marches, for a mage it is even worse."
Varric shook his head.
"Yet Hawke tried," he said, "She went up there to pay a debt, and she did the best she could."
"And unleased a force for chaos on Thedas," the Seeker said, "A player who we have no idea what her agenda is?"
Varric shrugged.
"That is Sundermount for you," he said.
"Weird shit…that keeps getting weirder."
IOI
"Finish your business quickly human. We cannot be rid of this one too soon."
Moira watched as the two Dalish hunters made their way down the path. The hostility that they showed Merrill, one of their own kin, surprised her.
As for the Dalish first, she took the men's anger in stride. She stood rail straight and proud, despite what the two hunters said.
"I will save our clan," she shouted at them, "No matter what you think of me."
One of them gestured over his shoulder but said nothing more. Merrill curled her fingers around her staff.
Varric snorted as the two elves disappeared from sight.
"Hm," he said to himself, "I smell a story here."
Isabela shook her head; the pirate had only just met Merrill, but already seemed to be extremely affectionate towards her.
"What was that all about Kitten?" she asked.
Merrill's large green eyes narrowed.
"Ignorance," she spat, "But no matter what they think I must see this through."
The Dalish shook her head and gestured her staff.
"Come," she said, "The woman of many years is not known for her patience."
Hawke fell in alongside their guide. The slender elf seemed more than a little distracted.
That could be quite dangerous, considering what they had faced so far.
The Keeper had warned them about the things that prowled the mountain passes. Undead rose from the very ground where they walked. The spirits that slipped through here were not powerful enough to try and possess the living, but had no trouble claiming the corpses of the many unfortunate travelers had tried to make their way up to the summit of the mountain. The Hawkes used fire spells to keep the monsters away. Merrill responded with a bit of Dalish magic, summoning foul smelling roots to entangle the legs of the beasts and make them easy prey for Aveline and the two rogues.
As they neared their destination, it became necessary to take a detour, a rockslide had blocked the path to the graveyard they sought, fortunately, the Dalish had discovered a cave through the mountain, one that would bring them out not far from their destination.
As they reached the opening, Merrill paused, the Dalish woman's long elven ears drooped slightly; her shoulders sagged, as if she was trying to carry a heavy burden.
The young elf shook her head.
"Ye are really not seeing the Dalish at our best," she said, "We're good people, people that take care of our own."
"Oh the Dalish seem very welcoming," Moira said dryly, trying to lighten the mood, "I was thinking of inviting them all over for tea later."
Merrill turned, her brow furrowed.
"Oh they would never go for that," she said, "None of them would…"
She paused when she noticed the look on the others' faces.
The elf blushed slightly.
"Oh," she said, "Right. Sarcasm."
She coughed into her hand.
"Whatever."
Once again Moira found herself feeling like a bully. She did not know the full story of what was going on with Merrill, but it was clear that it was hurting her.
She wondered if she should apologize, not wishing to kick someone when they were down.
Isabela beat her to the punch.
"Ignore those fools," the pirate queen said, "If they can't see your value that is there problem."
Merrill smiled slightly, grateful for Isabela's support.
"One day, they will thank me for what I've done," she said, "Theron would have understood, at least I think he would."
Bethany tilted her head.
"Theron?" she asked.
Merrill sighed.
"My bond mate," she said, "He…he got sick…during the Blight. The Keeper said it was the darkspawn sickness, she could not cure it. Theron…he…he said he had to leave, he did not want his presence hurting the clan."
The elf's ears lowered.
"He may have died in the forest, we…I…I do not know" she said, "If he were here, now, he would not let our people suffer. He would have at least tried to do something."
"Would your mate have wanted you to leave your clan?" Hawke asked.
Merrill's brow furrowed.
"No," she said, "But I have no choice, I cannae stay, and If I dinnae go te Kirkwall I would be alone. A solitary elf is easy prey for anyone. In the city at least, maybe I can get lost in the crowd."
Hawke shook her head.
The poor girl, she thought.
Even Aveline looked like she was feeling sorry for her. The guardswoman knew something about losing one's lover to the Blight.
If anything, that knowledge would probably make the two women closer, considering what they both had lost.
Merrill raised her staff, the top of it flared to life with a soft green glow.
"This way," she said, "The graveyard is not far off now."
IOI
Hawke coughed as she once again stepped into the daylight, clothes were covered in dust and cobwebs.
The mage shook her head.
Spiders, she thought, first undead, and now…NOW. Giant spiders.
She sighed.
Maybe someone hates us.
The Hawkes knew a few things about giant spiders, there had been nests of the foul things not far from Lothering, usually they stuck to their caves, but a few times they had emerged to hunt for prey. Every so often, someone from Lothering would vanish; they would find something, a bag, or a weapon, always covered in spider web.
That is how you knew that the person was gone. When that happened all they could do was send out soldiers with fire to purge the nests, the spiders would come back, they always did, but reducing their number kept the people safe…
…For a while at least.
The rest of the group slowly emerged behind her. Merrill first, then Bethany and Isabela, the younger Hawke was supporting the pirate queen, Isabela had been stung in the thigh by one of the spiders, its venom had made her very woozy, easy prey. If not for Moira and Aveline, she might have been completely webbed up and been dragged off to be some spider's dinner now.
The Hawkes did what they could for Isabela's injuries, they pulled out the claw, and used healing magic to try and counter act the poison. It worked, mostly; Isabela was on her feet, even if she was moving a little more wobbly than usual.
The pirate queen giggled.
"Thisss sstuff isss great," she exclaimed with a greatly slurred voice.
"Sssomeone should bottle thisss, I feeeeel ssssweet!"
Bethany giggled.
"The euphoria of the venom will wear off shortly," she said, "You probably won't feel so great then."
Isabela pouted.
"Ssspoil sssport," she said, and giggled again.
Aveline and Varric emerged; the warrior was still trying to clean errant spider webs out of her hair.
She glared at Merrill.
"Some short cut," the guardswoman said with a frown.
"The main path was blocked," Merrill reminded her.
"This is the only way te reach the graveyard."
Moira looked up.
"Speaking of graveyards," she said gesturing in front of them.
The group turned.
Before them… stood their destination, they had reached the graveyard on the summit of Sundermount.
The old elven graveyard did not look like much, a few piles of stone standing here or there, scraps of cloth that might have been banners once daggled on long rusty poles. Great slabs of stone lay sunk deep into the ground, these might have marked the graves of the elven dead, but centuries of neglect had robbed the place of any grandeur it may have once possessed.
Merrill shook her head.
"In the days of Arlathan," she murmured, "The elders would come here to sleep."
She sighed heavily at the ruined sight before them, no doubt thinking of all that that had been lost since the fall of the elven civilization. Few people these days could imagine the thought of an elven kingdom; it had been centuries since the Exalted March defeated the elven kingdom in the Dales, and longer since the Tevinter Imperium had destroyed the first Elven civilization.
Merrill's elven ears drooped slightly.
"My people did not die you see, not in the traditional sense, they entered the endless dream, the Uthenera, and like so many things…even this was lost."
She shook her head again.
"The old ones no longer sleep peacefully here anymore."
Hawke took a step forward; the air shimmered like a heat mirage. She reached out with her magic, finding that someone had placed a magical barrier around their destination.
She frowned slightly and backed up.
She turned to Merrill.
"Any ideas?" she asked.
The Dalish swallowed hard, she wrung her hands slightly, as if trying to come to some difficult decision.
Finally, she nodded.
"I can open the way forward," she said, "One moment."
Moira stepped back, curious to how the Dalish girl would deal with the shield.
She expected her to raise her staff and whisper some ancient code phrase, surely the Dalish would have known the spells necessary to disarm such a shield, either that, or it would be keyed to recognize Merrill as elven and allow her to open a door way for the rest of them.
Merrill did not do that.
As they watched, the elf drew a long curved dagger from her belt, she brought it to her lips, whispering in a tongue that none of them understood, and then she raised her hand…
…and drew the dagger across her palm.
Hawke blinked in shock.
Merrill gasped with pain, but did not falter, she raised her wounded hand, gesturing even as her blood fell to the grass at her feet.
As she spoke, the blood turned to something akin to smoke, crimson smoke, glowing smoke.
Merrill pushed against the barrier with her bleeding hand, for a moment a shadow seemed to ripple against the shield spell, a shadow that seemed to be drawing in Merrill's blood.
There was a brief tearing sound, the air seemed to crackle, and then…it was done.
The shield fell.
Hawke stood there…dumbstruck!
That…that was…
Merrill took a deep breath, and pulled a small handkerchief from her belt, she used it to bind her hand.
She turned to the others, no one said anything, in that moment you could have heard a pin drop.
It was Bethany that broke the tension, her honey brown eyes narrowing.
"I…I felt the veil shift," she murmured.
She glared at their guide.
"You summoned something here! Are you insane?!"
Merrill winced under the accusation.
"Yes," she said, "I know it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us dinnae it?"
Hawke's eyes narrowed.
"Demons are very helpful," she said trying to keep hysteria out of her voice. All her life her father had warned her of the dangers of blood magic. A mage caught practicing it was not taken to the circle; the Templars would kill any blood mage on sight. They would not suffer a Maleficarum to live.
And now, now, Moira thought.
I'm standing next to one.
"Of course then they burn out your mind, and turn what is left of your body into a monster!"
Merrill's eyes narrowed, her posture became more defensive.
"Well…yes," she admitted, "But that willnae happen te me. I know what I'm doing. I know how te defend myself."
Moira glanced at Bethany.
Both of them wondered just how many mages that had become abominations had thought that very same thing before the creatures they were playing with took them…
…Too many to be sure, Moira thought.
…Far too many.
Merrill took two steps into the graveyard when the bodies of the elven elders and more than a few grave robbers began to rise from the grass. Whether they had been summoned by Merrill's blood magic, or simply responding to intruders, Hawke could not say.
She raised her staff and started firing arcane bolts as the walking corpses, scattering a few, but attracting the attention of far more with her power.
The creatures rose in masse, snarling and reaching out for the mage with their boney hands.
At the far end of the graveyard stood an altar, the skeleton of a long dead elf lay slumped against its base, with the rise of the others, this corpse also began to stand, but unlike its fellows, as it came to its feet it began to change, shadows wrapped around the corpse, restoring the muscle and robes that it had worn in life. The face twisted, turning from a simple skull into something far more demonic. Glowing balls of flame filled its empty eyes sockets, when it had reached its full height, it gestured at Hawke and her advancing companions. Tendrils of entropic magic began to weave through the air, reaching like the tentacles of some great octopus.
Hawke shuddered. She had never seen such a creature before, but recognized it from one of her father's books.
The creature was an arcane horror, a demon mage!
Bethany raised her shield spell; it stopped some of the tendrils from advancing but not all. A few managed to weave their way through Bethany's magic. Aveline chopped at them with her sword even as Isabela, woozy or not, did her best to hold back the corpses that were trying to attack them with rusty swords, and ancient bows and arrows.
Varric fired on the arcane horror, the demon mage raised its hands, summoning a shield spell of its own. Moira charged sending crackling bolts of lightning flying at the monster's shield, the arcane horror's spells held, but Hawke could see the cracks starting to form in the shield, they were subtle, but they were there.
Hawke decided to force the issue.
The demon's magic shielded it from magical attacks, and it could use spells to shield itself from range, but how good would its defenses hold up when its enemy got up in its face?
She decided to find out.
In her head, the old Moira was screaming!
What are you doing?
Have you lost your mind?
You are no match for this thing!
She ignored those insecurities.
She attacked.
She brought her staff down on the arcane horror's wrist, snapping it, the demon floated back; throwing fel fire at her. She felt her skin wither under the assault but she did not back up, she did not dare.
If she gave the demon room, it might cover her in flame; it would use its foul magics to draw the life right out of her.
She would be left a withered corpse, just another body in this abandoned graveyard.
She would not allow that.
Moira's eyes narrowed.
She thought of Carver, her little brother lying broken in the fields outside of Lothering. If she stopped, or hesitated the horror might strike out at her allies. One of them might fall to this beast.
She could not allow that either.
Her eyes flared with blue flame. She swiped out with her hands, a lioness looking to claw a hated foe.
The magic in her blood responded.
Force magic tore the creature's chest. The demon shrieked!
It was a shriek cut short.
Three crossbow bolts found the arcane horror's chest, throat, and head.
The demon stumbled to the ground.
Hawke was on it like a predator.
She swung her staff like a war club.
She brought it down hard on the arcane horror's skull.
The demon's head caved in.
Shadows flowed out of the body, robes and muscle dissipated.
What was once an abandoned body was an abandoned body once again.
The arcane horror was dead.
Hawke took a long gulping breath of air.
Andraste's mercy, she thought.
What was I thinking?!
She summoned healing magics, letting them sooth the burns caused by the fel fire. She felt the burns flowing out of her like venom drawn out of a wound.
Hawke slumped to her knees, her heart pounded in her ears.
She was almost afraid to check on the others, afraid that she might see that they were not alright.
She forced herself to, and was rewarded.
She watched as Aveline cut down the last of the undead. All around them bodies burned, or were crushed by Merrill's strange magical roots and vines. Isabela leaned against a ruined tombstone, three corpses lay broken at her feet, even weakened by spider venom; the Rivaini pirate was a terror.
Bethany ran up to Moira.
"Sister," she gasped, "Sis! Are you okay?"
Moira nodded, her throat felt like a desert, but she would recover, food and rest would do much once they had made it out of here.
Merrill approached them.
"We should be save now," the Dalish said, "Place the amulet on the altar, and I'll begin the rite."
Moira staggered to her feet. She felt like she could sleep for days, but first, she needed to do this.
She still had a debt to pay.
She pulled the witch's amulet from her bag, and sat it on the altar.
She stepped back to join the others as Merrill stood on the spot that the arcane horror had risen from.
The Dalish raised her hands and spoke in the elven tongue.
Hawke did not know elvish, or what was being said, but she could feel the effect, the veil roiled under the magic that Merrill summoned. The amulet began to glow, and rock back and forth like a thing alive.
When Merrill finished, a beam of swirling light shot up from the altar. The beam swirled growing larger, the air split by what at first sounded like thunder, but changed into something else, and a sound that Hawke, Bethany, and Aveline had heard before.
It was the roar of a high dragon.
The beam grew and changed, to Hawke it seemed briefly like the outline of a dragon, but then it began to shrink, it grew smaller and brighter, and then brighter still.
Finally, it ended with one final flash, a light so bright that they all had to look away.
When it faded the amulet was gone, and in its place…
…stood the witch of the wilds.
Flemeth blinked and looked around, the witch stretched like a child waking from an afternoon nap.
She smiled at Hawke and her companions.
It was a smile that was both cruel and amused.
The witch laughed.
"Ah," she said, "And here we all are."
Merrill dropped to her knees before the witch.
Andran'atishan, Asha'belannar," she cooed.
The witch smirked as she looked down at her.
"One of the people, I see," she said, "Tell me child, do you know what I am, beyond that title?"
Merrill bowed lower, spreading out her arms in submission.
"I know…only a little," she admitted.
Flemeth chuckled.
"Then stand," she said gesturing for the elf to rise, "The people bend the knee far too quickly."
The witch turned to Hawke and her companions.
Her eyes twinkled with amusement.
"How pleasing to see that someone still knows how to keep their side of a bargain," she said, "I feared that my amulet would end up in some merchant's pocket."
Hawke shook her head.
"We made a deal," she said, "And besides, no one would buy it, probably because it had a witch inside it."
Flemeth smirked.
"Just a piece," she said slyly, "A small piece, but it was all I needed, a little insurance policy, should the inevitable occur."
The witch's smile turned cruel.
"And if I know my sweet little Morrigan," she said, "It already has."
Hawke blinked.
"Morrigan?" she said.
Flemeth grinned.
"My daughter," she confessed, "She is also a girl who thinks she knows better than I or anyone else, but then again…"
Flemeth cackled.
"I can't fault her for that; I raised her to be as she is. I can't expect anything else."
Bethany frowned.
"It sounds like you are not sure if she is simply your daughter or your enemy." The younger Hawke said.
Flemeth shrugged.
"Neither is she," the witch admitted.
Hawke blinked.
"Why go to all this trouble?" Hawke asked her, "If you wished to come to Kirkwall, why not simply travel with us?"
Flemeth laughed at that suggestion.
"What a trip that would have been," she exclaimed, "Me travelling like a common refugee!"
The witch shook her head.
"No child," she said, "No, I had an appointment to keep, and pawns to move before I did, and…I did not wish to be followed."
She practically beamed as she looked down on Moira.
"You smuggled me here quite nicely."
Isabela rolled her eyes.
"If this is going to turn into a fight," she said, "Why don't we just get to it."
The witch frowned at her.
"Your betters are talking," the witch said, "Be silent!"
The pirate's eyes narrowed.
"You don't know me," she hissed.
Flemeth shrugged.
"I know your type."
She turned her attention back to Hawke.
"I saved your life in the wilds," she said, "Now you have saved mine, and even trade, I think."
Moira's brow furrowed.
"You have plans I take it?"
"Destiny calls to us all, dear girl," Flemeth answered, "Thanks to you I am free to do what comes next."
The witch started to walk away, walking towards the abyss that the graveyard overlooked.
Bethany leaned in close to her sister.
"We are going to regret bringing her here," the younger Hawke whispered.
Flemeth paused.
She turned and glanced around the graveyard, for a moment she almost looked sad, sad, and very tired.
"Regret is something I know well," she said to Bethany, "Be careful that you do not let it poison your soul when it comes time for your regrets…remember me."
She smiled at the girl.
"Regret is dangerous, but love…can be equally so. Beware your heart little one, your passions might just set a world ablaze, and everything and everyone you care about will burn with it."
Bethany blinked.
"I…I don't…don't understand."
The witch cackled.
"You will, one day."
She turned to Merrill.
"Be careful child," she said to the Dalish, "You are never more blind, when your eyes are shut."
The Dalish bowed in thanks.
Ma serannas," she murmured.
Flemeth once again turned towards the cliff.
"One last thing before I go," she said, "Know that we stand on the precipice of change, the world fears the final plummet into the abyss."
The witch smiled grandly.
"Wait for that moment, and do not hesitate to leap."
She turned back to Hawke.
"Until you fall, you never know if you can fly."
Hawke gave her an arched look.
"Good advice," she said, "From a dragon."
"We all have our little challenges," the witch said with a shrug, "For now…know that you have my thanks…"
She turned away.
"And my sympathies."
Flemeth stepped off the cliff, her body glowing as she did so.
By the time Hawke reached the edge, a high dragon rose into the air, it circled the graveyard once, roaring in triumph, and then…like it had never been there…
…it was gone.