Chapter 13: The Summoning
The Procession had reached the graveyard on the summit of Sundermount.
Locien's eyes wandered over the ruins excitedly, his breathing came in gasps, his heart pounded like a war drum.
It was time, after so many years of careful planning and waiting, the time had finally arrived.
The summoning was about to begin.
He turned to address his followers; they needed to understand the significance of this day of days.
Tonight, the world of the shems would finally come to an end. Tonight, the quick-blooded trash would find an enemy that even they could not hope to defeat. The dwarves, the Qunari, they had only one fate in store for them, subjugation and eventual extermination!
This world belonged to the elvhen, it was theirs by right.
Tonight, Fen'harel would bring the Avatar into this world. The elves would be their own masters again.
And the children of Fen'Harel would be given far more, they would be given power over the stars, they would be masters of life and death.
Locien, and his followers, would be made Gods!
He would lead this new pantheon, he would be the greatest of them all…the mightiest of the elvhen!
His time…had now come.
Revenge would finally be his!
He smiled triumphantly at his followers.
"Place the vessel of the Avatar on the high altar," he ordered, "The rest of you, form a matrix of power, we shall all be required this night. When the moon rises to its apex we must all be ready. Tonight, we kill the old world, and give birth to a new one, a better one. I shall now acquire the final item we need to complete the summoning."
Kelinda grinned fanatically at him.
"All will be as you desire Keeper," she said, "The elves shall at last know true victory over the shemlen."
He grinned, the girl was sooo loyal. He wished that she possessed the gift of magic. She would have made an excellent priest of the new order.
At the very least she could be an excellent diversion, perhaps he would mate with her when this was all over, produce a child of the true blood, of course he would first need to be purged of the taint of course.
He would discuss that with the Avatar when he had arrived.
He journeyed to one of the old tombstones, a sense of melancholy swept over him briefly. This place had been one of the last strongholds of the elves. It was here that the Tevinter mages forced the last of his people into slavery.
They took everything from us, and the shems have never given it back! They hate us, they resent us. They see our women as whores, and our men trash to be discarded.
That ends…NOW!
The Tevinters had held them in captivity; they had stolen everything the elves had ever been. Then…after a thousand years of captivity, the shemlen Andraste offered them freedom in exchange for their aid. Shartan, the Father of the Dales, had joined her; he had died at the same time she had, executed by the Tevinter, and all because of her faithless husband.
Yet, another betrayal by humans, another reason that their duplicitous race deserved to be wiped out!
Then the chantry, the church that Andraste's followers had built turned on the Dales. They could not tolerate the elves, recognizing their superiority, and so…the Dales fell.
Locien sneered; he looked forward to the Avatar's invasion of Orlais. He looked forward to striding into the grand cathedral of the shemlen, of tossing their holy books into the flames. He wanted to watch as they herded the children and females into the new alienages, to have them watch as their men were put to the sword.
They would know the shame of being conquered; the few that remained would be made to kiss the Avatar's feet, to be grateful for its mercy, to be grateful for their slavery.
They would learn all these things, he swore on the dread wolf's name!
But first, the final item was needed.
He dug his fingers into the dirt.
Two years ago, a rogue Qunari Mage had raided his clan, this mage and his followers had stolen an item of great power, the Golden Mask of Fen'Harel. The horn-headed fool had sought to use it to summon an army of demons.
He had had such a limited imagination.
The mask had been destroyed by a company of heroes, and the Qunari had been killed, but part of it still remained in the mortal world. A piece that had been recovered by a loyal priest of the Dread Wolf, a piece that had been hidden here, to await this night.
To await…the time of the summoning.
Locien's fingers found what he sought, he smiled as he drew out a small wooden box, a box bearing the mark of his order, his fingers shook as he opened it.
The elven mage gasped in excitement. Two large emeralds glittered in the box.
The eyes of the dread wolf, the last piece that was needed to summon the Avatar.
He plucked them from the box, his hands shook, he was trembling with joy!
Fen'Harel, my master, with this, we shall bring your child into this world, with THIS; we shall make the lesser races your slaves!
Locien was crying as he returned to the others. He had dreamed of this moment his entire life!
He held up the emeralds, he wanted them to see that they had won.
"The eyes are ours my friends,' he crowed, "Let the ceremony begin, let the world tremble. Tonight the elves will have vengeance! After tonight…the Children of Fen'Harel…will never DIE!"
His followers cheered, screams, tears, and embraces of pure happiness were shared. This was a most joyous occasion.
A day of both birth and death, the Avatar would be born, and the world of Thedas would die.
The time had finally come.
The summoning could begin.
IOI
Solen shivered.
This graveyard was not what he had even expected. He had expected a place of power, but the air here…it felt charged, his skin tingled, his stomach twisted into a knot.
Was…was this really what they had wanted? Was this what the Keeper had promised them? Solen had joined them on this mission because he had wanted to give his people a fresh start, a place where they did not have to live on table scraps like animals.
He had never wanted to kill anyone!
The fight with those Dalish at the base of the mountain had awakened doubts in his mind. Did they not understand that this would benefit them as well? Why had the Keeper not spoken with them, why had he not convinced them of the worthiness of their mission!
Why had they had to fight?
Why…why had they needed to kill?
Solen had killed for the first time that night, a young hunter, barely older than himself. The hunter's blood still stained his hands!
He had tried to wipe them clean, but the stains remained, the smell remained.
"Solen?"
He turned to see Kelinda; her eyes were sparkling beneath her wolf mask.
"The Keeper needs us," she reminded him, "It is time."
He nodded, trying to push his doubts aside; this…this was for the good of the elves…for all elves.
This was not the time and place for doubts.
This was the time for action.
He took his place, near Kelinda; the elves that would be a part of this ritual were needed to form the points of the summoning glyph for Locien. They would be the anchors.
Once the matrix had been formed, Locien would pour the life energy he had gathered, energy gathered from over a hundred evil souls. He would pour this energy into the Avatar, it would give this supreme being its magic, then when the moon rose to the highest point in the sky, Locien would open the door to Fen'Harel's realm.
The great wolf would give life to the vessel; the Avatar would be born into this world.
Then it would be Locien's turn, he would choose a mortal soul to inhabit the vessel. This elven soul would give the Avatar true mortal life, in that moment the Avatar would truly be born. He would be an elvhen mage of nearly limitless power!
He would lead them against the shemlen and anyone else who opposed the new elvhen empire. They would save the city elves, they would save the Dalish.
The entire world would be transformed.
At least, that is what the Keeper had promised.
Solen was no longer so sure, the look in the Keeper's eyes… the hate when he spoke of the other races.
Did the rebirth of the elves have to result in an ocean of blood?
Solen did not believe so, but it was too late now.
The elvhen needed this; he would speak to the Keeper again once this was all done.
He would make him see reason; the Avatar would make him see reason.
Such hatred could not be the only way. If elves were to be superior, should they not act as superiors and educate the lesser races?
It was the way of the humans to slaughter their enemies to the last. The elves could be better.
He believed that in his heart.
If only the Keeper could be made to see that.
If only he could see.
IOI
A strange wind began to blow across the summit of Sundermount. Storm clouds began to form.
Locien smiled.
He stood before the sacred vessel as it rested on the altar overlooking the Free Marches, the smell of the oils that anointed it tickled his nose.
He leaned forward; carefully he pressed emerald eyes of Fen'Harel into the clay eye sockets.
"Now you shall see with your Father's eyes," he whispered.
"He drew the hunger demon's chalice from his pocket, the Tevinter artifact practically pulsed with life energy, life energy stolen during the purge of Blainswood.
Life sacrificed for the greater good, for the good of the elves, and their true defended Locien.
He placed the item over the Vessel's chest.
"Now you shall taste the lives of those who have oppressed us," he whispered to the figure.
Thunder rumbled overhead, the elven mage looked skyward, rainbow colored lightning danced in the clouds.
The moon so near its apex changed color, the very feel of it changed, Locien shivered in anticipation.
The moon had turned green…green and had begun to glow…
It was no longer merely the moon.
It was the eye of Fen'Harel himself…and the dread wolf…
Was pleased.
He turned to his followers again, the wind blew his robes.
"Now my friends," he cried out, "Speak the words…just as I have taught you. The chant is needed to awaken the objects of power. It shall be the song that shall usher our Avatar into this world.
As one the elves began to chant, the words had been old…even during the time of Arlathan, words that had not been spoken ever before…
Some would say they should never have been spoken.
Locien removed another talisman from his robes; this had once belonged to the warden mage Janeka. She had used it to breach the fade and summon demons to aid her in her experiments.
Tonight it would be used to open the way for a god.
As the winds increased, and the chant rose to the sky, the magical glyph began to form; it passed from elf to elf, through Kelinda to Solen…to all of the others.
Locien could feel it; he could feel the power building.
He could feel the souls inside the hunger demon's chalice screaming, they fought as they were broken down into raw power, power that was being fed into the body of the Avatar.
Your first taste of life, he said grinning at the vessel, power…that shall be your mother's milk!
The glow of the magic took on a strange green tinge. The elves continued to chant, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, they were all sweating now, but they no longer saw with their own eyes. They were one now…one being united in a common purpose.
They were of one purpose now…
Of one voice.
One voice.
IOI
Solen whimpered.
He…he felt like he was fading away…becoming part of something that wanted to swallow him whole!
He did not want that, not for him…and not for Kelly..,
Kelly?
He fought to look at her. Her eyes glowed with the same emerald flame; her eyes were hungry and full of menace.
What had happened to her? Solen thought.
What is happening to all of us?!
"MORE!" Locien laughed, magic danced around him, its power flowing into the Avatar. His eyes were wild, crazed by the forces he had unleashed.
"MORE!" he cried in ecstasy, "Give the Avatar your courage, your will, your anger, give him the strength he needs to be born into this world. GIVE HIM THE STRENGTH HE WILL NEED TO KILL IT! MORE, DAMN YOU ALL!"
Solen gasped, he tried to step back, to break the circle but he could not…
He belonged to it now…there was no escape!
The young elf tried to scream, but all the emerged was the strange chant!
It was all, and he was now a part of it.
And in the heart of the magic, the vessel twitched.
Locien's eyes were wild with excitement.
It comes, he thought ecstatically.
HE COMES!
It was glorious, it was beautiful, it was…
A smite struck him.
Screaming Locien fell out of the matrix, the other elves gasped and collapsed, but the glyph did not diminish, it was self-sustaining now. It began to shrink, drawing closer to the Altar…
…Closer to the body of the Avatar.
Locien began to rise, he spat dead leaves and dirt from his mouth, a dalish curse sprang from his lips.
Who would dare interrupt him in his moment of greatest triumph?
He glared at the interlopers, the shemlen disbelievers.
"It is over, Loki;" Stroud said firmly, "This madness ends…NOW!"
Locien laughed insanely.
Did Stroud know who he was talking to?
He had come to find a runaway warden, but Locien was more than that now.
He was a God!
"You have come a long way to die…my brothers and sisters," he purred evilly.
Stroud and the other grey wardens glared at him. They all drew their weapons. Determined looks all graced their faces; they had come here to stop this.
They had come here to stop the birth of the Avatar.
Locien laughed at them…they were fools!
They were also too late!
Magic swirled around the vessel; it ignited the emeralds in the Avatar's head.
The two gems blazed with life.
The Avatar twitched, and then…stretched.
Its clay body sat up, it rubbed at the two burning points that had become its eyes.
Like a child, Locien thought, awakening from a restful nap.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, he threw back his head in his mirth.
Stroud and the others had come far too late.
The Avatar was awake, it lived.
And now…they would die!