It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
Leliana pulled the unconscious Veira into her lap, desperately brushing her cheek and begging for her to wake. As Wynne sprinted over and examined her, Zevran dropped to his knees beside her, his face sweaty and eyes wide, but he kept his composure. He kept his voice steady. "You can fix her, Wynne? You...you can do this, yes?"
Wynne's jaw tightened. "Zevran, all of her ribs are broken. There's only so much I can do."
Zevran let out a nervous laugh. "Ah, but Wynne, you are a marvel at healing. Broken bones are nothing to you!"
"It is not that simple!" Wynne yelled, for she too was frightened. Her hands started to glow with powerful healing magic. "There is so much more damage than...simply-"
Zevran felt a hand on his shoulder. Alistair's glassy eyes met his, his hand shaking slightly. "We need to let Wynne concentrate."
It felt like the entire Deep Roads lit up in the light of Wynne's magic. She was putting every ounce of her strength into the spell. Even as an hour passed, then two, Wynne did not relent. Eventually, she gasped, and her arms fell to her side. Alistair had to catch her before she fell over in exhaustion.
"Will she live?' Zevran asked Wynne quickly.
"I-I," Wynne panted, "I do not know."
Zevran's fists clenched as he looked into his lover's face. He couldn't believe the last time they had an actual conversation he had...they'd...
No. It wasn't supposed to happen like this!
Veira woke up standing.
She immediately knew that wasn't right. No one wakes up on their feet. As her senses came to her, the scenery shifted into a familiar greenish tone, rock formations surrounding her. She was in the Fade.
She gripped the sides of her face in horror. No, no, no. Am I dead?
"Don't worry, small one. You are not dead yet."
Veira whirled around behind her to the source of the voice. It was familiar. It came from a robed man, Circle robes in fact. His face was plain and harried. But he had the hungriest, largest smile she'd ever seen on a...human. Veira immediately stepped back, recognizing him right away.
"Mouse."
"It has been some time," he nodded, that awful smile not leaving. "Tell me, how have you been?"
She instinctually grabbed for Spellweaver, but it wasn't at her hip. In the state she was in, her mind had forgotten to believe that it was still by her side. Maybe it was broken like her staff. Her heart sank at the thought.
Mouse laughed. "Ah, there is no need for that. I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I'm here to help you."
"I want nothing from you," Veira snarled.
"Don't be hasty," Mouse said, and while he still smiled, there was a hint or anger in his voice. "I can help you. Perhaps you do not know how badly things are going for you."
"And you would improve nothing, demon," Veira said, "why don't you show me your true form. Stop hiding behind a human face. I know what you are."
Mouse's eyes flashed for a moment, and his grin only grew. "Unnecessary, broken one. This form suits our conversation well enough."
She flinched at the word 'broken.' "Do not call me that."
"Why? It's true. Even if you survive, you will never be the same again. You will never be able to fight. You will never finish your duty as a Grey Warden."
Veira's eyes widened. "How do you know I am a Grey Warden?"
Mouse made a sweeping motion with his arm, and a golden throne rose from the green rock below. Grinning, he sat on his new throne, leaning his elbow on the armrest and placing his chin on his hand. "Because, my dear, I have an interest in you. Why, the moment we met, I could not stop thinking about you! A mighty Grey Warden and a powerful mage on equal grounds with a senior enchanter? You are very alluring, you know that?"
"You've been following me," Veira spat, "watching me!"
"I have that ability, yes," he nodded, "nice work on defeating that idiotic Sloth demon, by the way. I greatly enjoyed that fight."
"I can do the same to you!"
Mouse burst into laughter. "You should be grateful, broken girl! You think I'm the only one who wants you? You are a tasty morsel to many here. But I keep them away. I protect you. And now, I'm offering you a way out of your current peril."
"I will not-"
"What choice do you have?" Mouse interrupted coldly, his eyes changing to slits, like a cat. "All of your ribs are broken. Your spine is bruised and twisted. There's no telling how much internal damage has been done. Even your spirit healer can't heal you."
At his words, Veira could feel her body crumple. A terrible pain erupted across her torso, and she dropped to her knees, unable to talk. Scared tears ran down her face as she clutched herself. She knew he was right. She hadn't known her condition until now. Now she believed it. Now she was feeling it.
Mouse looked down on her, not hiding his enjoyment at this. "Poor thing. Let me help you. I can fix you." He stood from his throne, kneeling before her. He took her cheek into his freezing, horrid hand. He wiped the stream of tears with his thumb. "I can save you."
Veira's form began to disappear. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, demonic features showing through for only a second. Still he smiled. "Ah. You are waking. No matter. Think on my offer, sweetling. I will be waiting for you. We will see each other again soon."
She tried to gasp but nothing came out.
Breathing felt like she was inhaling pins and needles. She couldn't move, her body felt like lead. Empty vials of potions surrounded her, tight bandages wrapped around her torso. Her eyes darted back and forth, realizing they were in the same place where she fell. They hadn't moved at all. No, no, they had to keep moving. They had to! Where was Wynne? She had no more time to wait. She had to end this before Mouse-
She spotted Wynne not too far from her, sitting on her legs by a fire, cooking something. Veira opened her mouth to say her name. "Wahhyn," she called desperately, her voice unable to go above a muted gasp. Luckily, Wynne was waiting for any sign of life, and heard her right away. Wynne dropped the vial she was holding- she was making more potions it seemed- and knelt beside her.
"Thank goodness you're awake. What is it?"
She could only muster garbled sounds, so Veira pretended to hold an invisible quill, scribbling on the ground. Wynne nodded and quickly reached into her pack and brought out some paper and a quill. Veira's hand was so shaky and weak, but she could write letters that were somewhat legible.
Branka?
Wynne frowned. "She's still here, somewhere. After you...you were hit, she showed herself to tell us the only way out of this place is to go forward. The mechanism can only be deactivated after the traps are disabled."
Veira scribbled furiously. Why no moving?
Wynne shook her head. "You cannot be moved now! If we were to move you around, even I cannot tell how much more damage will be done! You need to rest."
Veira made a long noise of disapproval. ALISTAIR.
"He-he's with Sten, Zevran, and Leliana. They have gone forward a bit to make sure there are no darkspawn around us."
Veira gritted her teeth, pushing back sobs that threatened to bubble over. Her arm shook even more as she continued to write.
Leave me.
Wynne's eyes widened. "No. We are not leaving you. Don't say that."
Veira tapped the words again with her quill. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. They had to leave her. She was broken. If she couldn't move, she had to be left behind.
"None of us will abandon you," Wynne said gently, dabbing the tears away with a cloth. "Rest."
Veira tried to say something, beg Wynne to reconsider, but no words could come out. She rolled her head to stare up at the endless ceiling of the Deep Roads. She felt numb. It was both the numbing potions Wynne applied to keep the pain at bay, and the hopelessness ebbing its way through her. Her eyes were heavy and her body wanted nothing more than to sleep again...but even if she did that she was not safe anymore. She never was safe. Not once.
I can fix you.
The horrible part of this was Mouse probably could fix her body. But wouldn't she die? Wouldn't she be lost if she let him in? Like Uldred.
Or would she be like Conner, fighting forever to resurface, to regain control? Would she not do better than him, as she was a stronger mage?
Even through these thoughts, sleep won in the end. Before she closed her eyes, she prayed that a darkspawn nightmare would come instead.
Troubled sleep followed. Even though she was dreaming, now there was a sense that something was watching her. Eyes that would not tear away from her. She awoke again with a start, her heart beating faster. She glanced around her, seeing Wynne and Zevran talking nearby.
"-impossible," Wynne was saying, "we will need several healers and a lot of lyrium to fully heal her. I know Irving and Petra have healing capabilities, but I am not sure how many healers are left at the Circle..."
"I suppose she cannot help in the healing of her own body," Zevran sighed.
"If she used lyrium right now, she would die," Wynne said firmly, shaking her head, "you know lyrium takes its toll on mages."
"Regardless, the tower is our next stop."
"Yes," Wynne said, her voice weary and tired, "I just hope the trip doesn't-"
Veira coughed once, making her body shake. They both turned to her, both surprised that she was awake. She felt for the paper and quill, Zevran taking them and putting them in her hands. She underlined Alistair's name again.
"Alistair," Wynne called, "Veira wishes to speak with you."
He rushed over, relieved that she was awake and not screaming in pain. He knelt beside her, grinning and so happy his friend was okay. "What do you need?"
Veira scribbled, trying to keep it as legible as possible. Need you, she wrote, to lead us.
His smile was gone. "W-what do you mean? You're going to be okay."
She balled her fist and hit the ground as hard as she could. She drew two deep lines under 'lead us.'
Alistair glanced up at the words she wrote prior. He saw the words 'leave me,' and swallowed back his grief. "If-if I do this, I'm not leaving you. I refuse to leave you behind."
She tipped her head back in frustration, then an idea came to her. She didn't like it, but it would ultimately keep her companions happy. Dario, she wrote. Cart.
They had used up one of their large barrels of water already, which had freed up much space in the cart Dario pulled. This was her way around without having to walk. Alistair nodded immediately, rushing to move the empty barrel they were going to use for extra supplies they picked up along the way out of the cart. They needed soft things to line the cart and up against the barrel still full with water. Luckily they had a few bedrolls and furs to help.
While they were busy with that, Zevran stayed by her side. He said nothing, not sure what to say, especially since the last time they talked. Veira looked at him sadly. Why had she been angry with him? Maker, she thought she was smart, and look at what she had done. She had no right to be angry at him when she had risked everything to save Leliana. But it was still true that Veira wanted him to fight for his life, fight long and hard to stay alive. She realized those were the same thoughts her companions had about her.
It was time...for her to try to stay alive too. She'd have to find a way.
She wrote one word on the paper as he smiled at her. Sorry.
He blinked, chuckling. "What do you have to be sorry for?"
She only looked at him sadly, and reached for his hand. He grasped it gently, and she squeezed it with as much strength as she could muster. Which was not a lot. She wanted so badly to say she was sorry for getting angry at him when she should have supported him instead, that she'd help him get through whatever he was going through. Would she be able to say it someday?
Soon they loaded Veira carefully into the cart, keeping her position as straight-backed as possible to not irritate anything anymore than it already was. She could tell Wynne didn't approve of this, moving her so soon, but they could not wait any longer. Wynne knew this. The longer they all stayed here, the closer they were to starving or dying of thirst. Veira needed to get out of here to get to the healers in the Circle.
The only way was forward.
Still, Cairidin's traps were next. They proceeded with utmost caution, past the charred corpses of darkspawn that fell victim to Veira's fire. She hated the sight of them.
The corpses of darkspawn were soon replaced by the corpses of dwarves. Older corpses long dead. This was the first trap room. Veira glanced at Oghren, looking at the bodies of his house, and she saw in him what she had felt before she ruined herself. Pure rage. It blazed in his eyes, a red heat surpassing the red of his hair. He moved forward first.
There were several unmoving golems in the middle of the room, and on each end of the room were eight levers in total, four on each side. The golems had to move, Veira thought as she looked around. There was a lot of damage to the stone tiles around the golems, and Veira had watched Shale enough times to know what they could do to stone. But what were the levers for?
Oghren also assumed the golems would activate, so he avoided going near them, keeping his axe up. Suddenly, when he stepped over the threshold to where the golems stood motionless, there was a ear-piercing screech, making the group cover their ears in pain. Then, just as the golems started to move like they thought they would, the room started to fill with green gas.
The moment that gas hit their nose, there was a burning sensation that slid through to their lungs. The chamber echoed with coughing while the golems finally completely unfroze and began the onslaught. Oghren barely parried a stone fist as he choked on the horrible gas, and the rest sprang into action even as their lungs burned and eyes watered. All except for Veira.
She could only sit there, keeling over as she coughed, the pain of such action incredible. She gasped as the air itself felt like dry lava, and she was certain she would die like this, rupturing something further by coughing. She had to breathe. She had to do something.
Through the watery blanket that covered her eyes due to the gas, she glared at the levers. They had to be a part of this, somehow. Smart trap makers don't put unnecessary things in their traps, and they needed fail saves so their own traps wouldn't kill them. But how could she get to them? If she could throw something...
Glancing beside her, there were several chunks of stone debris from previous battles. She stretched a shaky arm towards one piece, concentrating hard. Her eyes flickered green, gathering as much magic as she could muster, her teeth gritting at the pain. How easy this used to be.
The stone shifted as she tried to lift it, and it did so slowly. It took every ounce of her will and concentration to float the stone over top of one of the levers. Sweat poured down her temple as her injuries screamed, but she had to wait until it was perfectly above the lever. She didn't know if she could do it again.
At the right moment, she released her hold on the stone and it fell, hitting the lever hard. It shifted down, with a loud clank, and a portion of the green gas depleted. Not entirely, but that was the answer. She only hoped one of her companions noticed.
Luckily, Zevran did. He broke away from the fighting and sprinted over towards the end where one lever had been taken care of, rushing to complete the other three. He desperately tried to cover his nose and mouth, as the concentration of the gas was strongest near the levers. She could tell he couldn't breathe.
Once he finished that side, he rushed towards the other. A golem attempted to grab him before he could reach the last four levers, but Alistair stood in front of him with his shield up, catching the giant stone hand. Zevran flitted through each lever so quickly it was over in seconds, and the green gas was gone. Relief filled their lungs instead of burning, and the fight went much smoother after. It wasn't long before the last golem became motionless once more.
Wynne rushed over to Veira's side, her hands glowing with healing magic. "You shouldn't be using magic in your state," Wynne scolded, although it wasn't whole-hearted. Veira grimaced at the warm light, but the relief was immediate. "But...well done."
Veira nodded slowly, taking a few deep breaths. She needed to get healed quick. How could she fight a war like this?
"Okay, if she's okay, lets move on," Alistair said, "and next time...Leliana, Zevran. You two are up first. Lets try to disable the traps first before we walk into them." He gave Oghren a nod, who scoffed and muttered something under his breath.
The next room was a long hallway, with golems lined up against each wall. As they were told, Zevran and Leliana scouted ahead cautiously, looking for any signs of trip wires or hidden explosives. Leliana froze and slowly got on her knees, motioning with her hand for Zevran to look. "It looks complicated..." she said, "but I think I can do it."
"What do you see?" Alistair asked.
"Looks like...a very complex wire system, meant to trigger weapons hidden in the walls. This might take me some time. Zevran, be my second eyes."
She ignored all else while her fingers twisted and pulled and worked at the contraption. After a minute of work, the golem hovering above them started to make a cracking noise. It was waking.
"Leliana..." Zevran said nervously.
"I'm not done yet!"
"Okay, but," he replied quickly, drawing his blade, "I feel like this might take precedence."
She was still not finished when the golem came to full life, along with the partner directly across from it. It reached up high with both fists, bringing it down upon the two rouges. But a friendly stone fist caught them. Shale kept their ground, arms shaking slightly at the pressure. It was a stalemate.
The second golem rushed forward, Zevran shouting Leliana's name again. This time she yelled, "got it!", and stood to join the fight. With the combined forces of all of them against only two golems and minus horrid gas, the fight went rather smoothly. The same trap mechanism was at the end of the hall as well, but Leliana managed to disarm it quicker the second time. They made it into the next stage faster than the last.
The next room glowed a faint blue, as lyrium littered the walls and ground. Veira had to be lead away from it; just being near one cluster of those crystals made her head hurt. In the middle of the room stood a large platform, with four altars on each side. A huge stone statue with archaic dwarven faces carved into the rock stood in the middle of this platform. When they approached, an odd hum came from the statue, and the eyes started to glow blue.
The sound of grinding rock echoed throughout the room as the giant statue started to move. It rotated once, sending a wave of energy outward to the altars. They too started to glow. And from that light, four dwarven spirits rose from the altars.
That wave of energy reached Veira, and suddenly her head burst with a massive headache. Was lyrium powering that statue?
She clutched her head with both hands, trying desperately to block out that pulse, but it would not go away. The pain was too intense, and her brain shut down in order to stop it. As the corners of her eyes started to darken, she panicked. No, no, if I go back to the Fade, he could be there!
With that last thought, she woke up once again in the Fade.
The headache was still there, but it felt...distant. The harder she concentrated on focusing, the less she could feel it. She concentrated enough to stand. Though she knew that may be only possible here. Not in reality. The thought sent a chill up her spine.
"Frightening, isn't it?"
Veira whirled around to to source of the voice, already knowing who it was. Her worst nightmare. Mouse loomed over her, taller than usual, an unpleasant grin on his face. "To be so weak. Scary, no?"
She glared at him, which only made him laugh.
"Hate me all you want, it doesn't matter. Now you know what it is like. Why you need me. You think you can kill Branka the way you are now? You barely moved a rock."
Veira eyes widened. "Why do you think I want to kill her? We need her."
"For now. Until you get your army, that is." Mouse grinned, and stalked around her. "But I know you. It's her fault you're like this. She sent all those poor people to their deaths, or a fate worse than death. You want her dead. And that's fine. But how will you accomplish such a feat they way you are now? Let me help."
"I will never let you-"
"Are you holding on to the hope that your spirit healer can bring you back to the Circle in time to get you healed? Tsk, tsk. That is a small hope. I can help you now. So that when the time comes to face Branka, you can take her out."
"I don't need you for that," she bristled, then stopped. What the hell was she saying? She wasn't going to kill Branka anyway, even if she...if she...
Maker, she needed to get away from him.
"I will do this the right way," she said, "I will not succumb to a damned demon to fix this!"
Suddenly, she started to blur, and Mouse sighed. "Ah. Your companions are waking you. Such rude people you travel with." He grinned. "Let's see how this healing goes, then, hm? If it's possible. The next time we meet, I'll wait for you to come to me. Because..."
His face bubbled and shifted into his true face, though features of the human still came through in a nightmarish mangle that made her back away as quickly as she could. His mouth was too big to be possible on a human, the smile impossible. His skin turned a rotted purple, his eyes burned a pure white with no pupils. He grabbed her shoulders, pushing his horrid face inches from her.
"You. Will. Come to me."
That was when she jumped awake.
The gentle, wrinkled hands of Wynne were on her cheek, as she patted her shoulder to wake her. Her face lit into a warm smile when Veira matched her eyes. "Ah, good. Are you alright?"
Veira very much wanted to throw herself into Wynne's arms, tell her how scared she was of Mouse. That she was being tailed by a demon. That...that his offer was sounding better and better by the second...but she couldn't. If people knew that she, a mage, was being hunted by a demon...that could mean the end of her, not this injury. Maybe she was being a coward. A horrible coward that wasn't honest with her friends, putting them in danger from herself if she falls. But she couldn't do it.
She grabbed the pen and paper. I'm fine, Veira wrote, then glanced around her. We need to collect some lyrium.
Wynne's eyes went wide. "Veira-"
Not for me to use. I can't. For the Circle. Have a feeling we need it.
Wynne paused for a moment, a worried frown on her face, but in the end she nodded. "Alright. I will see what I can do."
Veira sighed relaxed into the bedroll, closing her eyes as Wynne went off to do what she could. By the sound of it, she was getting Shale's help to handle the lyrium, which was smart. The Circle will need it, she kept telling herself. It wasn't for just in case she needs to be sent to the Fade.
It wasn't.
With her companions defeating the trap, they could continue on forward. By the sudden rise in heat and light source from afar, Veira could feel they were reaching the end. There were no more traps. She could feel it in her bones. It was time to end this. End it, and focus on getting better.
What they found was a large chasm, lava flowing down deep below them. There were more golems in here, a large tablet on the wall full of writing. And at the top of this chasm stood one lone golem, and behind it on a dais was a golden anvil, covered in veins of lyrium. There was a strange power here, Veira could feel it. This had to be the Anvil of the Void. They had made it.
Veira's eyes darkened. Now all they had to do was get Branka on their side so they could go back.
Suddenly, the eyes of the lone golem lit up, and for a split second they all thought it was just another damned fight to win. But this was different. This golem was polite.
The golem, made of dark metallic materials, tipped its head slightly. A booming, echoing voice emerged from the hollow body, somewhat weary in tone. "My name is Caridin. Once, long ago, I was a paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar."
Veira's eyes went wide, her head turning towards Shale. They seemed to be in shock, eyes flickering as if their thoughts were going through them too fast. Oghren, who was just as shocked and confused, got to speak first.
"The Caridin? The one who created the golems in the first place?"
"Yes," Caridin sighed, "I created the Anvil of the Void and brought the golems into the world. My crowning achievement." He said that last part with venom.
"I..." Shale finally managed, "I cannot believe you still live."
"Ah, there is a voice I recognize," Caridin said, turning fully towards Shale. "Shayle of the House Cadash, step forward."
Veira wanted to say something, but couldn't. The house Cadash? Like a dwarven house? Were golems once given to certain houses and adopted their name? But if that's the case...how did Caridin become a golem?
Shale did so. "You know my name? Was it you that forged me? Did you give me my name?"
"Have you forgotten, then? It has been so long..."
"I made you into the golem you are now, Shayle, but before that, you were a dwarf just as I was. The finest warrior to serve King Valtor, and the only woman to volunteer."
A cold chill went down Veira's spine. Volunteer...? And they were once a dwarf? What the hell was the Anvil of the Void?
Shale paused, taking it in. "The only...woman? A dwarf?"
Caridin nodded. "I laid you on the Anvil of the Void, here in this very room, and put you in the form you now possess."
"The Anvil," Shale said slowly, "that is what we seek."
"Then you must care about my story," Caridin replied gravely, "or be doomed to relive it."
Caridin lowered his head. "Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status because of one thing; the Anvil of the Void. It allowed be to force a being of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost."
Veira had an idea what that cost was.
"No smith, however skilled, has the power to create life. To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere."
"Holy Maker..." Alistair gasped.
"The darkspawn were closing in," Caridin continued, "originally I only took volunteers, the bravest souls willing to trade their very lives for the chance to defend their homeland. But King Valtor became greedy. He began to force men...casteless and criminals...his political enemies...all of them were to be given to the Anvil."
Veira began to feel sick. Just like Branka.
"It took the feeling of the hammers blow myself to fully realize the height of my crimes."
"Do you wish for revenge?" Shale asked.
"No," Caridin shook his head. "Not revenge. Becoming this opened my eyes. My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod. I retained my mind. You were amongst the most loyal, Shayle. You remained at my side throughout, and in the end I sent you away out of mercy."
"I do not remember..." Shale said. How awful it must be to remember so much, but not the one thing you really wanted.
"We have remained entombed here ever since, and I sought a way to destroy the Anvil. Alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem can touch it."
"No," a voice from behind yelled, "you cannot destroy it! No one will take it from me!"
Branka stood, axes in both of her hands, staring past Caridin and at the beautiful, lyrium infested anvil. Her eyes changed. At one point there was a hint of someone else besides the Anvil in them, but now, there was nothing but the Anvil. Like Hespith said.
"It must be destroyed," Caridin pleaded with Branka, "greed will only make history repeat itself!"
"If I must kill you to get it, I will!"
Caridin turned to Shale. "Shayle, you once fought to destroy the Anvil. Please, do not let it fall into unthinking hands again!"
"You speak of things I don't remember," Shale said, "did you use control rods to command us?"
Caridin shook his head. "No, I destroyed the control rods, but my apprentices must have made them again in secret. If they truly have the rods again, then all they need is the Anvil to make a slave army!"
"Do not listen to him," Branka yelled, "he's been here for a thousand years stewing in his own madness! Help me and your army will be like nothing you've ever seen!"
Oghren stepped forward towards his wife, his hands up and a pleading expression on his face. There was such a gentle quality to it that it surprised Veira. And it broke her heart. "Branka, are you mad? Does this thing mean so much to you that you can't see what you've lost to get it?"
"Look around. Is this what our empire should look like? We're nothing more than a crumbling tunnel that will lose against the darkspawn one day1 The Anvil will let us take back our glory!"
"The Anvil...enslaves. It must be...destroyed."
Everyone turned to the elf sitting the cart, too hurt to move. She had both hands filled with healing magic, one on her throat, and one just below her chest. For now, the magic cleared up what was blocking her voice, although it was still quiet and ragged. But she needed to speak. They may not all agree, but Veira would not use something that brought that much pain and suffering. And the way Orzammar was now, they would use Casteless souls to make their army. They just would. She knew it. And she would not let that happen.
"Living souls suffer all the time," Zevran commented carefully, "peasants working the land are trapped, but we do not go about destroying farmland, do we? It seems a waste to destroy the Anvil, given what it could do."
What it could do was give them an army of golems that could wipe out the darkspawn faster than any Grey Warden army could. That was true. She couldn't deny it. And that would save lives they could not before. But what about the lives that are forced in the future to become a golem? What happens when they mass produce control rods, and they end up like Shale had been, controlled by someone who thought nothing of their well-being?
"What if you were turned into a golem," Veira said slowly, "would you wish the Anvil to exist then?"
Zevran raised his eyebrows. "Now, wait, you wouldn't do that. You are not unreasonable."
"It's not about what I would do," Veira coughed, "it's about what those in power would do! Do you honestly think anyone is safe if the Anvil is in the hands of politicians? Of anyone?" She started to struggle to keep her voice going, but she pushed through regardless. "They'd see you only as the failed assassin, the criminal, the rebel. What a good, strong soul for a body of steel. It wouldn't matter if you wanted to be one or not. I bet your Antivan Crows would love to see you controlled by a tiny rod, so that you'd be the assassin slave they really wanted."
Zevran swallowed the lump in his throat, while many of their companions stared at Veira in shock. What an awful thing to say, even if it was true. It made Veira sick to even think about, someone controlling Zevran in such a way, which is why it had to be destroyed. Slowly, Zevran began to nod, though he looked to the ground instead of her. "Alright...alright. You've made a...compelling argument. I agree that it should be destroyed."
Veira released the healing magic, breathing hard and leaning forward. Caridin turned his head towards her, and she could see the faint glow of his soul in the deep crevice that was his eyes. "Thank you stranger," he said to her, "your compassion shames me."
"Bah!" Branka spat, reaching into her pack and bringing out a long rod that Veira recognized immediately. "You are not the only master smith here, Caridin, and you're already down one companion! Golems, obey me!"
The golems that were lined up suddenly moved, their eyes glowing the same colour as the control rod. Caridin yelled in horror, while Branka grinned in triumph. With that many golems on her side, she could feel her victory before her.
But just before she gave the command for the golems to attack, she was knocked back by a small, thin, bright white light hitting her directly on her forehead. She got up quickly and angrily, rubbing the smoking burnt skin on her forehead, glaring at the one responsible. Veira had a shaky finger pointed at Branka, her breathing still heavy. But her eyes blazed with white.
As Branka screamed for her golems to attack, Veira could feel the smile of Mouse watching her.
