Chapter 35: Things Lost or Demanded
Nothing.
That is what the presence felt like, or would feel like if it was capable of feeling. There was literally nothing left of it, no sound, no light, not even pain…pain would have been preferable after the yawning chasm that had swallowed it in what seemed like an eternity ago.
It was literally fading away, stretched so thin than it was barely aware of itself anymore, awareness of that it had been something once only barely remained.
Soon it would not even have that, then…then it truly would be nothing, lost and forgotten, even by itself.
The presence let go, it wanted oblivion now. Oblivion would be preferable to…to…
PAIN!
The presence screamed, or would have if it still had a mouth, it felt its slowly dissolving self being yanked back together, though it had no physical form it could feel razor sharp talons digging into what was left of its fading being, what might have been called its soul.
The agony was intense, for something that had no body anyway, as more and more of what it had been was pulled back together the pain increased, it became real, hot, cold, sharp, and dull at the same time, a slow painful torture.
Torture reserved for the lost, those that had failed, and the presence knew that it had failed, that it had lost something precious, and was being made to pay for it.
"My little elf sends her regards."
Though the presence had no ears, it somehow knew what was being said, despite the agony of nothingness.
As more and more of it came to together thoughts returned, true thoughts. It tried to reach out to the other, the one drawing it back.
Though it had no mouth, it begged with the one who had captured it, pleaded with it.
"Please…please let me go. Please…let me go back to being dead!"
Amusement surrounded the presence.
"Many sacrifices have been made in my name little wisp. Apparently the world of mortals is not done with you yet."
The presence tried to remember, had it been alive once, truly alive, it thought it might have been but…
That felt like an eternity ago, it had been here for so long.
"Does it hurt? Existing as something that is not truly here, being too weak to take a physical form? Mortals pass beyond our realms so quickly, either heading to what is beyond, or falling into emptiness."
The presence realized in that moment that it had likely been saved from that fate, to fall into darkness and be nothing at all.
It was not sure if it should be grateful or not, and even if it was it had nothing to show its gratitude.
A new sensation filled the presence, pain again, but pain with purpose. It had been so thin once, a string drifting in a dark current, slowly dissolving, now…now it felt like it was being woven back together, it…it was strange experience.
The one gripping it chuckled.
"So much blood and death was offered to me to try and find you, to try and save what was left."
New sensations filled the presence, it felt its heart form first, and then felt it start beating, pumping blood that was no longer blood in the true sense of the word, with each pump, veins began to form and as those veins formed, muscle began to join them followed quickly by the bones that had attached to them.
Claws gripped the newly formed shoulder blades as the presence's new brain formed, thoughts beyond simple sensation filled it, ideas, and memories flowed like water.
Memories that filled it with an unreasoning hate, a jealousy for the physical and mortal, desire to destroy, desire to kill!
Desire…above all.
Again the one who was reforming it…reforming her chuckled.
"I had hoped for a creature like myself. It is not impossible for a mortal to ascend to join us. It merely requires power and the will to stay whole, or the help of one such as I."
The presence felt the shadows recede, it realized that it had eyes once again, eyes that looked out upon the world around it.
Eyes that regarded the fade, the black city in the distance…
And the demon that was slowly breathing life into her…a life unlike anything she had known before.
She looked upon the creature known as Famish and was disgusted.
Hunger demon, pathetic and weak, it sullied her very presence with its very touch.
Famish smirked at her.
"Do not go running off yet my lovely, he cooed, "You are still weak, and not fully formed, drink the souls that have been offered me. In time you will be strong enough to pass through the veil and be back among the land of mortals once again."
She glared at the demon.
"Why are you helping me," the new demon demanded, her new voice was low and husky, meant to drive men to die for her, "Why have you done this?"
The demon shuddered with delight.
"Because your presence is hungered for, two hundred souls brought to me, offered if I would search the void and find you, fill you with power and send you back, and now…here you are."
The hunger demon snickered.
"You are not as you once were, you are like us now, but in time you will be strong enough to enter the physical world without the need of a mortal's blob of flesh, unless you choose to take one of course."
The demon regarded her new hands, a soft pale violet; her feet stomped gently on what she remembered to be hard stone. Her cloven hooves almost pranced with anticipation of her return to true being.
She smiled wickedly.
Desire would be fed, a desire for vengeance and death.
"Let the fade cradle you," Famish advised, "drink its magic and grow strong again, all that you hunger for will be yours, I promise."
The new demon nodded she sank to the ground; a small silken couch appeared behind her, accepting her new form.
She snuggled among the pillows, memories of her past life passing quickly through her mind.
She would rest.
She would heal, and then…then…
She would return.
IOI
"The compound was never meant to be permanent, Your Excellency."
Seneschal Bran paced before Solona's desk, the Viscountess tapped her fingers with irritation; the Qunari messenger's arrival this morning had put the whole keep on edge.
I've tried to be fair with them, the Viscountess thought, I've respected the Arishok's throne, and let him deal with his people as he has always seen fit.
She shook her head.
Now this…
"Peace is maintained because the Qunari ask for nothing," Bran continued, "The spot you granted them on the docks was meant to contain them, to keep the entire situation contained."
Solona sighed, she was tempted to run her fingers through her hair and rip out the tight bun. After weeks of recovery and training she was finally back in her formal robes of office, back to her pre-baby weight.
She had done this intentionally; she could not afford to show any weakness in front of her enemies, which were sadly many, and growing every day.
She looked at the scroll the Qunari had left. She had read it twice and was still fighting the urge to be insulted.
The Arishok had seen fit to have her be a messenger. If he had issues in the city, he should have brought those issues to her.
There was no need to involve her Cousin Garrett.
She had sent a runner for him shortly after the Qunari had left. Now she waited patiently for his arrival.
She turned to the latest reports on the war. Stark and Avery had been doing well since going on the offensive. Several rogue nobles had surrendered and sworn fealty to her in the last week. Baron Lafaille now discovered that raiding her shipping and merchant caravans was not as safe as it had once been. Between Howell's Queen Rowan and Stark's ground campaign the Orlesians early victories were looking more and more like flukes.
Alas, there was not good news on all fronts.
Neria was still out there, and with the Seekers gone she had changed her tactics. Her men would ride in, hit a lightly defended target, kill any survivors and vanish without a trace. Knight-Captain Cullen had been to one of the sites of the most recent attacks. He reported to both her and the Knight-Commander about it.
It was his belief that these attacks were not simply random violence. The prisoners had not been executed; they appeared to have been sacrificed.
The only question now, was for what?
Meredith's lips curled with distaste.
"You should have turned to me in the first place Amell," the Knight-Commander chided, "We could have had this blood mages corpse hanging from the city gates by now."
The Viscountess did not respond. She should not have had to go to Meredith; dealing with Maleficarum was the Templar woman's job.
"We are turning to you know Knight-Commander," she said ignoring the woman's barb, Kirkwall must be protected."
She regarded her oldest rival with her most imperious stare.
"Kirkwall is counting on you."
Meredith and Cullen had returned to the Gallows after that, hopefully to begin their hunt for Neria Surana in earnest.
The Viscountess hoped the Jackal was up to the task.
IOI
"You sent for me cousin?"
Solona glanced up at Garrett Hawke; he was smiling like the cat that ate the canary.
She sighed.
"You look tired," she commented.
The rogue shrugged.
"So do you."
"I have two infants to care for," she reminded him, "What is your excuse?"
Hawke gave her a sly grin.
"I'll tell the family tonight at dinner," he promised, "In the meantime…"
"Yes," Solona said, "In the meantime…"
She turned to the Seneschal.
"Leave us."
He bowed slightly and returned to his office.
Solona gave Garrett a grim look.
"Do you know how we maintain order in this city cousin?"
"Besides your beauty and wit?"
She quirked her lips in amusement.
"Besides that, yes."
Hawke shrugged.
"You are the strongest power right now. You have the guard and navy on your side."
The Viscountess sighed.
"Power is a balancing act cousin. Orsino, Meredith, the royal court, even the Qunari are kept in balance because I can keep them all from asking too much."
She pointed to the large scroll on her desk.
"The Qunari have just asked for something, it is so unusual that it has put some of the nobles on edge."
"What have they asked for?" he smirked, "A place here in Hightown?"
"They have asked for you cousin," she replied.
That stopped him short.
"Me?"
"They have requested that you go to the compound, today, the Arishok has summoned you, and to stress how much he desires one, he has turned the Viscountess of this city into a glorified messenger."
Hawke picked up the scroll and read it; some of the cheer went out of his face.
"May I ask why the Qunari would want to speak with you?" the Viscountess inquired.
"I got the Arishok's attention a few times, but that was years ago."
Garrett gave her a pointed look.
"Speaking of which, how long does it take to send a ship from Par Vollen? How much longer will the Qunari be in this city?"
The Viscountess sighed.
She had never openly told the court the real reason that the Arishok had stayed this long. If one of her enemies found the tome before she did. They might use it as leverage to get the Qunari's aid in pushing her off her throne.
Again politics meant that she had to tread carefully in dangerous waters.
"The Arishok has his reasons," she said, "Right now I need him to hold his patience. My sources tell me he is growing frustrated with Kirkwall, the chaos and weakness he sees around him."
She rose from her chair and took Garrett's hands in hers.
"I need you to do what the Arishok requires. Help me return him to dormancy, buy us some more time so that we can get the Qunari out of here safely."
Hawke's expression turned serious.
"That may not be easy," he said, "Lowtown has been flooded lately with anti-Qunari rhetoric. Fliers claiming that you are not doing enough to contain them."
The Viscountess sighed.
Garrett gave her a sympathetic look.
"The Children of Eternity are taking credit for this."
Solona nodded.
The zealots had been making a return in the last year. They had apparently found a new leader; Athenril and Howell had all but confirmed that the late Mother Petrice had led them until Daylen caused the woman's death. The Mother's death had put them into a state of dormancy, but now…apparently they were back…with a vengeance, first the attack on Daylen, and now this anti-Qunari campaign.
She did not doubt that one of her many enemies were behind this, the only question was which one…
"I will deal with the zealots," she promised, "You just worry about keeping the Qunari in check."
Hawke nodded and turned to leave.
"One last thing," she said.
He paused.
"Don't go asking about Isabela. She is no longer the person you knew."
Hawke sighed, he nodded.
He had come to learn that lesson the hard way.
Isabela was gone.
He just had to accept that.
She gave him a sympathetic look.
"Sorry to spoil your good mood cousin," she said.
He smiled slightly.
"Can't be done," he said, "Not after what happened last night."
Solona's eyebrow went up, a curious smile spread across her face.
"Care to share?"
Hawke chuckled.
"When I get back from speaking with the Qunari," he promised, "Mother will want to hear this as well, Bethany too."
He seemed almost wistful for a moment. When he turned back to her his cheer had returned.
"We will probably both want to hear some good news at that point."
The rogue smiled.
"Trust me cousin, it won't disappoint."
Solona smiled slightly.
Garrett was right about that at least.
Good news was always welcome.
Especially with so much bad on the way.