Chapter Fourteen: The Magrallen
"Say what you will about Crows, they know how to cause a distraction," Nathaniel murmured as another explosion sounded in the distance.
It was a riskier plan than Harmony would have liked - letting a dreadnought fire on Ath Velanis was one thing, but letting men skirt its outer wall with explosives was bound to lure out a scouting party or two. All the same, they'd taken several days to properly prepare and to plan escape routes for Zevran and Sol. Their camp was well hidden further along the coast, and guarded by Ser Ellin and two Qunari spies. They were as close to safe as any of them could be given the circumstances. That would have to be enough.
She and Nathaniel followed Callista once more into the half-collapsed passageway that led beneath the outer walls of Ath Velanis, emerging in the fort's lower levels. The two rogues were already adept at sneaking, but combined with the Seer's ability to use just a drop of her own blood to weave a spell that discouraged anyone they encountered from noticing them pass, they were nigh untraceable.
Without incident, they returned to that room where prisoners were chained to the wall by their wrists. It was startling how much worse Titus' prisoner, Maevaris, looked in the few days since Harmony had last seen her. Bruised and bloodied, the life sucked from her bones and the hope gone from her eyes. It was troubling to imagine what she could have been through to have caused such a drastic change in so short a time, though given the blood magic ritual Harmony had witnessed on her last visit, perhaps not difficult to imagine what had taken place.
The blue dress adorned with feathers that she'd worn on arrival was torn to shreds now, and Harmony couldn't help but notice the distinctively male chest beneath what was left of the garment. She never would have guessed if the dress were still intact.
"Maevaris?" she asked, stepping into the room.
One eye was swollen so badly it could barely open, but she found the strength to lift her head and ask in a weak voice, "Do I know you?"
Harmony shook her head. "My name is Harmony Cousland. I'm-"
"-Harmony?" Maevaris interrupted, brightening just slightly at the name. "Oh, my darling... I've heard all about you. Kaffas, but this is the last place you should be."
"It's the last place anyone should be," Nathaniel insisted, examining the manacles that kept Maevaris chained to the wall. "Looks like a tricky lock. I'll look around for a key."
"May I ask how you know my husband?" Harmony asked in a soft voice as she reached into the pocket at her belt to pull out a small vial of red liquid, then removed the stopper from the bottle with her teeth.
"He attended a ball in Qarinus alongside the cousin of my late husband and a Pirate Queen by the name of Isabela," she answered, breath uneven as she strained to speak. "I'd offered the three of them my protection. Every Magister in the city was in attendance, it was a rare opportunity to see Titus out in the open. Alistair intended to confront him."
"Why help a man you'd never met?" Nathaniel asked as Harmony lifted the potion bottle to the Magister's lips and helped her to drink.
The woman swallowed gratefully, giving the concoction a moment to work its magic before responding. The relief as the pain eased throughout her aching body was immediately apparent. "Besides wanting to keep dear Varric out of trouble?" She gave a little snort as if such a feat was impossible anyway. "Titus is bad news - for the Imperium. For everyone. I'd been gathering information on him for a while, finding some troubling gaps, and some more troubling coincidences. The fact I was brought here at all proves I was right to do so."
"What about Alistair? Did he face Titus?" Harmony asked, her concern obvious.
Maevaris only had the strength to nod once. She chuckled slightly as she explained, "Aurelian tried to attack and got more than he bargained for. We Magisters aren't really used to going up against Templars - at least not the kind that come out of southern Thedas. When his magic failed him, Titus made a hasty exit and there was a bit of a kerfuffle in the wake of it. Alistair and his friends made it out safely though, and I encouraged them to move on from Qarinus before someone had them taken in for questioning."
Harmony knew her relief at the news was obvious. "We're going to get you out of here, Magister," she assured the Tevinter woman.
"You had to have come here for Alistair. Not me," Maevaris observed.
Harmony shook her head. "My allies among the Qunari are keeping Alistair safe. We came here for Maric."
Maevaris paled at the mention of the name. "Oh, that poor man," she sighed.
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes but..." She cringed, clearly remembering a sight that she would rather have forgotten. "Look, if that's why you're here, you don't have much time. The door is hidden in that wall. You want to go through it and head in a straight line for the laboratory."
Callista had already moved to the wall to ease away the spell that kept the doorway hidden from view. Harmony nodded and looked to Nathaniel. "Help her down. I won't be long," she instructed. Nathaniel simply answered with a nod.
That feeling of evil that permeated the dungeon grew far stronger as she made her way down that hidden corridor and into the room at the end of it. Laboratory was what Maevaris called it, though from its location, Harmony wondered if perhaps it had been a torture chamber before that. It saddened her that she'd seen enough torture chambers to figure that out.
A glowing red orb was the first thing that drew her eye as she approached the open doorway of the room, and a feeling in her gut told her it was the source of that feeling of just plain wrong that filled the air here. She absently noted the bookshelves lining the walls and the tables cluttered with apparatus and bottles filled with strange glowing liquids. Her gaze though, stayed fixed on that orb.
This had to be the Magrallen she'd heard Titus speak of - the artifact at the core of his nefarious plotting.
Alistair had no idea how much time had passed since Sten had locked him up in that Qunari fort - or if Isabela was even still alive, having been dragged off days ago. He'd been given a gruff speech about how it was all for his own good, and Sten had definitely used the word guest upon their arrival. That was somewhat undermined, however, by the locked door and barred window of the room he and Varric had been escorted to.
With nothing to do but wait, his thoughts had been restless, darting back and forth between the Queen he'd left behind in Ferelden and the father he hoped was still alive in Seheron. The best case scenario? He'd find Maric, give the throne back to him and go with Harmony to Amaranthine or Highever and live a happy enough - albeit childless - life. The worst scenario didn't bear thinking about, and the myriad of other ways things could pan out from this point was making his head start to pound.
It was a welcome respite when Varric alerted him to some kind of a ruckus going on outside their window. The dwarf dismissed his initial theory that perhaps the fort was under attack. "Listen to that shouting," he'd urged, mouth spreading into a little smirk that helped put Alistair at ease. "The Qunari are angry. Only one person I know can make folks that angry."
As if on cue, a sound behind them caught their attention. Suddenly a great poof of soot and dust filled the room, and then Isabela rolled out of the fireplace, carrying a dagger between her teeth and a Qunari sword in each hand.
It wasn't the time to discuss what the Qunari had put her through - or how she'd escaped it - but it was there behind the determination in her face. Alistair had seen enough of his friends dragged through the Void and back to recognize unspoken pain in someone's gaze. He'd seen it in Harmony when they'd first met, and too many times after that.
Isabela gave the swords to Alistair and Varric, then moved straight to the door to unlock it. Soon enough the trio were making their way through the maze that was the fort of Akhaaz, though it wasn't long before they had to split up again. Isabela had to search for her captured crew while Alistair and Varric searched for a way out - hopefully a way out that involved getting Isabela's ship back, but by that point they'd take just getting away in one piece.
Varric was a quick thinking rogue adept at sneaking up on unsuspecting Qunari guards, knocking them out and taking their keys, and Alistair… well he wasn't so bad at being the big lug of a distraction that allowed Varric to make his move. He'd been that enough times for Harmony, Leliana and Zevran during the blight.
It all fell into place quite nicely. They found a barred door that, judging by its size, location and the two guards they'd been forced to dispatch had to lead to a way out. Together they lifted the bar and heaved it open, hoping to see their chance at freedom.
Their reward was a view of the coastline, of a choppy sea and of stairs leading down to where several dreadnoughts and Isabela's poor ship - as sorry as it looked at present - were docked. What drew the eye more immediately, however, was Sten standing there as if he'd been waiting for them to emerge all along, holding probably the biggest warhammer Alistair had ever seen in one hand as easily as a mage held up a staff.
"Parsharra. You will not be permitted to leave," he said sternly. It took knowing Sten for quite a while to be able to discern the difference between normal Sten and angry Sten. It had been a few years, but Alistair could still recognize this as the latter.
In fact, he'd only seen that expression of riled up determination on Sten's face once before; when the Qunari had once made a challenge to Harmony's leadership in the village of Haven.
"Sten, it doesn't have to happen like this. Titus is our mutual enemy - we can work together!" Alistair pleaded. A bit of Kingly diplomacy was always worth a try, after all.
The Qunari's military leader gritted his teeth, lifted his warhammer with both arms and charged forwards. "I am no longer Sten," he reminded Alistair as he attacked.
Right, I knew that… Alistair thought as he jumped back, only just managing not to have his ribcage crushed by the unreasonably large weapon.
No getting away unnoticed then, and no talking his old friend down. It seemed that his only option now was to do what he'd seen Harmony do eight years ago and knock some sense into the giant. Assuming he doesn't knock me into next Tuesday first, he thought grimly.
It was about the size of a dragon's egg, held off the ground by some kind of stand that looked to be shaped like a talon. As she drew closer she noted that it appeared to be made of blood with streams of magic swirling around it like wisps of smoke. Every few seconds it seemed to crackle with an almost lightning effect - though Harmony couldn't say she'd ever seen a crimson bolt of lightning before. There were cords of red extending from the very top like vines, reaching towards the ceiling for... something.
It wasn't until she reluctantly stepped inside that she was able to look above the Magrallen and see for herself what was above it. The sight made the blood drain from her face. Instantly she felt woozy, her stomach churning and her knees weak beneath her.
There was a huge gold ring that hung from chains in the ceiling like a chandelier, only it wasn't candles it held, but a man. He was bound, chained within that ring of gold by his arms and ankles, suspended horizontally above the Magrallen, his position forcing him to stare down into it. Those cords of red disappeared into his body at his arms, his legs, his torso and hips. It was draining him. Slowly sucking the blood and the life from him.
Stepping in closer offered Harmony a better view of the poor soul, though she wasn't entirely certain how she'd managed to will her feet to move forward. He was gaunt and pale, almost corpse-like in truth, his hair and skin both drained and ashen. His eyes were open, unblinking, his face set into a somber expression that lacked any hope. It was the expression of a man who had been locked into this fate years ago and had long since given up dreaming of any escape. She couldn't tell if he was conscious or not, but certainly he gave no reaction to her entering the room. If she couldn't see his chest straining uncomfortably to draw air into his lungs, she might not have been able to say for certain he was even alive.
All of those things she noticed before it occurred to her that the man was familiar. His eyes, the shape of his nose, the crinkle in his brow... all of them reminded her of the man she loved more than anyone in the world. This man looked like Alistair.
And if he looked like Alistair, that meant...
"King Maric?" she breathed in disbelief. She'd seen the man once before in her childhood, but that man had looked nothing like the shell before her that made her skin crawl.
Before she really had time to process that, a hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump. "You are no Qunari spy," a dark voice murmured, the tone sending a shiver down her spine.
Harmony spun around to find herself face to face with Aurelian Titus, his gaunt face mostly shrouded by the black hooded cloak he wore. She couldn't begin to guess where he'd appeared from - certainly she'd been alone when she entered the room, and she'd heard no footsteps behind her.
She felt like she could barely breathe this close to him, but somehow she managed to remember to whistle the signal she and her party had agreed upon. The one that warned Nathaniel and Callista to abort the mission, to run and not look back. She hoped more than anything that they'd hear it and have the chance to get away, though for all she knew, they'd already been caught trying to free Maevaris.
Titus followed her gaze over his shoulder, glancing down the corridor she'd entered through. "Who might you be warning, I wond-"
The sentence was interrupted by a grunt, followed by a low gurgle as Harmony's dagger struck home. He'd been a fool to look away and there was no way she was going to chance waiting for a better opportunity. She'd thrust the blade in just below his sternum, pushing upward to pierce his heart and kill him quickly. Better than he deserved, perhaps, but the man was dangerous and needed to be dealt with.
She let go of the blade and he stumbled back instantly, clutching at the dagger's hilt as blood gurgled up and dribbled from his mouth.
Then, just as she thought she had him, that red glow that she now recognized as a bi-product of blood magic began to emanate from the wound. The blade came free all on its own, and as he raised a hand, it was struck with a burst of flame so strong that it was melted away to nothing in an instant.
Aurelian Titus strode towards Harmony, the wound in his chest mending itself as he did. She could tell by the anger in his eyes that he was considering a similar fate for her as had befallen her dagger, but he didn't attack her. He simply glared down at her and uttered one word. "Kneel."
Harmony fought it, but it was like swimming upstream against an overwhelming current. It felt like all she had the power to do was slow the inevitable, and she couldn't do it for long before the effort became exhausting. Her traitor legs buckled beneath her and in a moment she was on her knees, her head bowed subserviently.
"Your hand?" he asked.
Again, it seemed she had little choice in the matter. She fought it for a few seconds, but then she raised her hand for him and he grasped it. She shivered as she felt his fingers trace a slow circle around the crest on her wedding ring.
"A Theirin, but not by blood. Pity," he mused. "But you have sentimental value, I presume, or you would not have come." Harmony swallowed harshly as he crouched in front of her, attaching manacles to her wrists one by one. "Come, my dear. We have work to do."
The next few minutes for Alistair had been dicey indeed. It had been difficult to gain the momentum of the fight when the Arishok had attacked without warning. At one point the Qunari even had him flat on his back, but he'd somehow managed to fight his way back to his feet. Every time the warhammer narrowly missed one of his limbs, the flagstones beneath their feet ended up smashed to little pieces, which was more than a little unnerving.
Alistair had been dimly aware of soldiers rushing to the Arishok's aid, and of Varric throwing himself in their way. He vaguely heard the dwarf making up something about Sten challenging him to a duel, warning the other Qunari not to interrupt and throwing a couple of Qunlat words in for good measure.
Assured that he wasn't about to be surrounded by soldiers, Alistair gritted his teeth and focused on his opponent. The duel was brutal and bloody, and he hated having to face down a former companion. Eventually though, Sten's bullish strength was outmatched by Alistair's nimbleness, and once the King won the higher ground - above the Qunari on the stairs leading down to the docks - it was all over.
Pinned beneath him with a sword to his throat, Sten glared up at him and growled, "Let it be done."
Perhaps Sten would have killed Alistair if their roles had been reversed, but that didn't matter now. "I'm not going to kill you," he answered, tossing his sword aside and offering the man his hand. "We were allies once, Sten. We could be again. Your people and mine against Titus."
And that was all it took.
By sunset, he was standing once again on the deck of Isabela's ship, staring out to sea. Two dreadnoughts flanked them as they made their way up the coast towards Ath Velanis. The crew were even more uneasy about the oxmen since their capture - and Isabela had already inspired a healthy fear in them before that. The tension aboard the ship was palpable, and not helped at all by Sten's presence on the upper deck, arms folded, as large and as still as a golem awaiting orders.
Alistair had been promised answers, since it seemed perhaps that the Qunari knew something about the situation that he did not. There would be time for them to discuss it before their unlikely little armada arrived at its destination. For now, he wanted to check on Isabela.
He found her standing at the prow, but she wasn't alone. Varric was beside her, muttering in that low, serious voice that never meant good news. "You sure you want to go on, Rivaini? I mean, if this is more you signed up for…"
"Alistair deserves a chance to see this through," she answered, voice just as grim. "Even the damned Arishok sees that."
Alistair sighed, his guilt stopping him from joining them. He doubted there was anything he could say that would make it any better. He doubted all the money in Ferelden's coffers would make it better. He could only hope that whatever they found at Ath Velanis would make all of this worth it.
He wondered if Harmony would ever forgive him if it didn't.