Oghren stood frozen in this moment, in which several golems rushed forward towards them while his wife took one deep breath and grabbed a small dagger from her belt. She ran forward, glaring madly at Veira still, and once she found the distance she needed, she grinned. That small dagger thrown was more than enough to do Veira in. She couldn't move. She didn't have the strength to make a barrier. It was too low to duck out of the way; it was aimed for her heart.
But it never reached her. It was parried by a greataxe.
Branka had the decency to pause. She stared at Oghren with hard eyes, still determined...but there was a part of regret in them. "If you do not move," she warned, "I will not hesitate, Oghren."
"Yeah," Oghren sighed, his hands tightening, "you were always too sodding stubborn."
Branka rushed forward and took a swing at him, the end of his beard getting cut by her axe as he pulled away. Still, he did not swing his axe at her. He parried and dodged, but he did not go into one of his frenzied rages. Everyone else had to keep their focus on the golems. Caridin couldn't move. The control rod somehow prevented him from moving. Shale was doing their best not to destroy the golems they were fighting.
The control rod. That was they key. It needed to be destroyed first. It was fastened to Branka's belt, dangling there just out of reach. Oghren wasn't of mind at the moment to try to grab it. It was up to her.
She took a couple of deep breaths, concentrating the little mana she had left. She searched the area for anything sharp, almost wishing she hadn't given her brother that dagger. Ah! But there was another dagger. The one that Branka threw. She searched and searched, but Oghren must have parried it so hard that it fell into the trench. Panic blossomed in her stomach, no solutions, no power. Then she saw a glimmering blue against the wall, close to the giant stone tile with writing on it. Lyrium. Technically, in it's raw form it was stone-like, perhaps enough to be able to lift it like she could with rocks. Lyrium shards were naturally sharp. It wasn't like she was going to utilize its properties of magic enhancement, she just needed to move it.
But Branka was moving too fast. Even if Veira was at full health and not swimming in numbing potions for pain, this shot would be hard. She needed to knock her down, even for just a moment.
She reached a hand towards the far away lyrium, her jaw hard as a headache pounded. Lyrium is earth. It is stone. It is a natural gem. An agonizing minute passed as Veira began to fear that she couldn't do it, until a crack formed at the base of one of the blue crystals. Carefully, she lifted the small shard of lyrium up, and held it in place. Now all she needed to do was get Branka onto the ground for a moment.
She watched the fight carefully. The two dwarves were equal in ability, just as ferocious as the other. When Branka aggressed, Oghren defended, and even as time passed and Oghren grew bolder, Branka did as well. Veira had to keep her focus on Branka's feet. Where they went, how she used them. The hand not holding the lyrium followed Branka's footsteps, waiting for the moment she needed. Just one step back. Just one.
Even an experienced warrior like Oghren couldn't keep up pure defence for long. With one strike, Branka managed to get an upper hand on Oghren. Her axe sliced through his cheek, spouts of blood pouring from the wound. He cried out in surprise mostly, then steeled himself and gritted his teeth. His stance changed, as if this was the confirmation that he'd been waiting for, or hoping would not come to be. He finally struck back.
He brought his large axe down upon her, and this time, it was Branka who needed to parry it. She raised both her axes to catch his, her arms shaking at the pressure of keeping that weight from cutting her. They were once again caught in a stalemate. Veira gasped. She wasn't moving her feet. This was her chance.
Veira threw the lyrium shard towards Branka as hard as she could, looking like a very beautiful ornate arrow head. It flew true, lodging itself into Branka's leather belt and splitting it in half. The control rod fell and rolled away, both dwarves staring at it until it eventually stopped.
"No!" Branka shouted as she broke away from Oghren. It was a sloppy move, as Oghren used her panic as a cover. He took his axe and swung the metal end into her side, knocking the air right out of her. She fell over, clutching her side and trying to regain her breath. Oghren kept running.
Once he was in the right distance, he raised his axe above his head, bringing it down onto the thin control rod. It was easily cut in two.
Blankly, Branka looked around. She saw the golems once controlled by her stop their attacks and stand still. She saw Caridin stand once more, no longer frozen. She witnessed each companion of her enemy relax and focus their attention on her. She watched that damned crippled mage sigh in relief. No. It couldn't be over. The Anvil was hers!
Branka broke into a desperate run towards the Anvil. It didn't matter in that moment that there wasn't anything she could do with it with all these people opposed to her stopping her. If she could only touch it-
Caridin stood in her path, arms wide and eyes glowing a bright blue. Caridin's face had no capabilities of moving or forming expressions, not like Shale's could. His was metal, a mask. But even so, there was a face there. An expression. A feeling. It wasn't even anger. What radiated from those glowing eyes was only protection. The protection of the dwarven people.
Branka gritted her teeth and drew her weapons, but she did not get far. Shale had been chasing after her. There was no hesitation in their movements. They reached up with their fists and brought them down on Branka's head. No sound escaped her as she hit the ground and bounced once. Then, she lay there motionless. Her neck was twisted strangely, her eyes open in perpetual surprise.
Branka was dead.
Veira stared at the corpse with contempt. She died a much kinder death than those of her clan. But it was over, and that's what mattered. Caridin's shoulders slumped as a deep sigh escaped him. The glow in his eyes dimmed, looking upon Branka with what could only be described as sadness.
"Another life lost to my invention," he sighed again, then looked towards everyone. "Thank you for your aid. Tell me, is there any boon I can grant you? If it is within my power, I shall do it."
Veira once again raised her hands to her throat and chest, casting healing magic to clear them. She looked sadly to Oghren. "You lost Branka for this. What do you want, Oghren?"
He gave her a surprised look, then rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I guess you can't bring her back as a golem?"
"I would not do that to her, even if I could," Caridin said gravely.
"Yeah. Figured as much." Oghren shook his head. "Bah. There's still this election business. Could you...I dunno...make something that would put a king on the throne? To convince the Assembly with no question? Orzammar needs a leader."
"This I can do." Caridin grabbed a giant forge hammer, eyes glowing bright blue once more. "Do not tell me their names. They are of a time that I do not belong to. But I shall forge you a crown of Paragon make, one that the Assembly cannot challenge. Give it to whom you will."
While Caridin worked, Wynne returned to Veira's side. After the battle had settled, Veira felt warmer than usual, a scary thing considering where they were. She could feel sweat pour down her temples, her body even weaker. Wynne pressed a hand to her forehead. "You are getting a fever," she said quickly, reaching into her pack for some herbs. "It is of no surprise, actually. I'm more surprised you are only getting one now."
Veira closed her eyes tightly.
"Don't worry, I won't let it get any worse," Wynne said, "we will get you to the Circle, I promise."
Veira smiled as she nodded, taking the herbs Wynne prepared to help keep the fever at bay. She wasn't sure how much time passed, but when she opened her eyes again, Shale was beside Caridin, talking to him. She couldn't hear the conversation. She hoped they were getting some answers, some closure. Then, Caridin raised an object of gold and beautiful gems above his head, examining it. It gleamed with bright white light, captivating in its own right. A crown fitting for an Orzammar king.
"I have done what you asked," Caridin said, handing the crown to Oghren, who seemed uncomfortable taking it. He did, anyway. "Now, please do as I have asked you."
Veira nodded, glancing at her companions. One of them had to do it. Alistair walked forward, his face determined. He smiled at her. "I'll do it."
Caridin presented Alistair with the same hammer he used to make the crown, which he took and stared at for a moment. Even if Alistair wasn't a dwarf, he still showed the respect expected to receiving a precious tool from a Paragon. He nodded at the giant golem, tipping his head and his free hand on his chest, a typical Ferelden bow. Then, he ascended to the anvil, hand firmly wrapped around the hammer.
It took several blows, but the Anvil split in two.
Veira breathed a shaky sigh of relief. That thing wouldn't be able to threaten anyone in the future anymore. She was so distracted by her relief she didn't notice Caridin moving towards the edge of the trench. He stopped at the two pieces the Anvil now was, staring at his creation, his life's work, that caused him and his people so much pain. Then, he continued to walk until he reached the very edge.
"Hey..." Alistair said nervously, reaching towards Caridin.
"You have my eternal thanks, strangers. Shayle. Words cannot express the service you have done for the dwarven people today, even if it seems a waste." Caridin peered down, into the pit of lava below. "Atrast nal tunsha...may you always find your way in the dark."
And then he was gone.
Alistair gasped and tried to grab him, but his fist only closed around air. Shale rushed forward only to stop, eyes flickering in confusion. They said nothing. They didn't need to. They retreated into them-self, shutting down any sort of conversation even as Leliana tried to get some response from them.
Veira just blankly stared at the spot where Caridin used to be, thinking of Hespith, and she felt empty. Exhaustion from the fever eventually closed her eyes and put her to sleep, where her dreams were of endless pits and screaming voices, darkspawn and not.
Veira wasn't sure how long it took them to return to Orzammar. She spent most of the trip in a feverish haze, slipping in and out of consciousness even when darkspawn attacked them. There was a significant drop in the numbers of darkspawn, and it wasn't just because they had cleared them out. They were moving up. Up, to the surface to follow their nightmare leader. What they fought now were stragglers, or those commanded to stay to keep their rule over the under dark.
They met up with Kardol and the rest of the Legion of the Dead once more, informing them of what happened. It was enough to convince them to join them for now, only to see how the election goes. They needed a king for orders, Kardol clarified, and the paragon crown was enough for them to leave their post. Their extra help against the remaining darkspawn was most welcome.
Even so, as quick as they were, it must have been weeks. Veira's body was still weak and frail by the time they reached the giant gates into Orzammar. She couldn't walk, she could barely breathe. She healed enough to get words out, but other than that, her condition barely improved. Wynne kept the pain mostly at bay with the surplus of numbing potions she had, but that was only a temporary fix, and they both knew it. If the healing didn't work...she'd be in a lot of pain for a long time.
The gates opened with two surprised guards staring at them in disbelief, eyeing Veira's condition and whispering to each other. One of them rushed forward. "Grey Wardens," he nodded, a nervousness in his voice, "you have arrived just in time. The assembly has called for the election to be solved today."
"What," Alistar gasped, "Bhelen promised he would delay until we were there! Veira's in no condition to-"
"Alistair."
He turned to Veira, who was more lucid than she had been in weeks. She reached beside her, handing the bag with Caridin's crown to him. He didn't take it. She nodded at it. "I need you to resolve this."
"But, I-!"
"I will accept whatever decision you make. I know you. You'd never purposely choose someone who would cause more damage than good. But if you are still undecided...go see Dust Town for yourself. Then, go."
She knew Alistair's first choice was Harrowmont. And he may choose him still. But there was no way she could delay her healing. Although Mouse did not visit her dreams during the trip back, she could feel him still. It was a risk she had no choice but to make. Maybe it wasn't a risk at all. She believed in him to do good. Although...neither options were truly good anyway.
"I need you to resolve this election and assist in organizing the dwarven army," she continued, her voice getting raspier the more she spoke, "then we can finally take the fight to the Archdemon once and for all." She smiled weakly. "And I promise...one way or the other...I will be there with you."
He paused, swallowing the bubbling fear in his throat he surely felt. Then he took the bag slowly, nodding. "I will hold you to that."
It was time to spilt the team up into two. Those that would stay here...and those that would accompany Veira to the Circle. It was decided Alistair, Sten, Leliana, and Morrigan would end this election and help the new king plan while Veira, Wynne, Zevran, Shale and Oghren would go. Dario would not part with his mistress, so he would leave as well. Oghren simply didn't want to deal with the election business, and once it was mentioned that the Circle was at Lake Calenhad, he perked up immediately and wanted to go.
Just before they separated, Morrigan frowned at Veira. "You had best return. T'would be unbearable if this buffoon remained the leader of this...group."
Alistair muttered a 'hey!' at her, but Veira ignored him. She smiled and reached for Morrigan, who looked at her confused and just patted her hand awkwardly. Veira chuckled, which hurt a bit but she didn't care. "I will be back Morrigan. No matter how long it takes."
Morrigan looked away, folding her arms across her chest. "Yes. Well. You had better, for my sanity."
Veira felt a large hand on her shoulder, looking up at the stoic face of Sten. "If it is your command to follow him, then I shall do it."
Veira reached over to squeeze his hand, grinning. "Try not to attack him, okay?"
Sten snorted. "That depends on him."
Alistair raised a finger. "Okay, what-"
Leliana threw her arms around Veira, hugging her almost too tight. Veira patted her back, as she really didn't have the strength to hug her back. She could tell the bard was close to tears. "I'm so sorry, Veira, this is my fault-"
"No, no, stop." She pushed Leliana back slightly and smiled. "This will not be the end. It is not my end. There is no fault to be thrown around here."
Leliana smiled back, sniffling as quietly as she could. "Okay. Please return to us soon."
Final nods and hugs were given, the two groups separating for who knew how long. She had promised to return soon, but Veira couldn't know how long it would take to recover and return. If she would recover. She gripped the fabric of her dirty robe. No, do not start with that. Do not get caught up in the idea that you won't get better. Just focus on getting there.
They requested a larger cart from the merchants outside the gates of Orzammar so that they could all fit into it while Shale pulled the cart. It was ingenious really -and surprisingly, Shale had suggested it in the first place- but since they did not sleep or get tired, they could move all of them even through the night. It took at least two weeks to get to the Circle by foot normally, but this way, they could cut the trip down by more than half. Still though...as grateful as Veira was to Shale, offering them-self up like this was worrying. She hadn't gotten to talk to them yet about Caridin, or about the revelations of their past. Maybe it was best to give them time. It wasn't as if she could give them a heart to heart right now anyway.
Veira was wrapped up thickly in fur blankets to keep her warm, as there was a blizzard storming outside. It was still winter. The sky had no trace of blue, covered in grey clouds and shimmering white. Oghren groaned at the sight of it, his eyes squinting hard.
"By the Stone, how do you people see anything?" he muttered, looking down to the wood of the cart. He swayed uncomfortably. "And how do you not feel like you're gonna fall up into that endless bullshit up there?"
"Oh, you don't know?" Zevran asked, grinning. "We... surfacers, as you call us, use a special glue on our shoes to keep us on the ground. Do you not have any?"
Oghren's eyes flew open. "What?! You do?"
Veira's chuckle was cut off by a cough, a painful thing for her right now. Wynne rubbed her back, frowning. "We do not have that, Oghren. Let's keep the jokes to a minimum for this trip, all right?"
Zevran stopped smiling, looking at Veira with a pang of guilt. "Yes, of course."
After the coughing stopped, Veira peeked one eye onto Oghren. "Are you feeling okay, Oghren?"
His eyes widened for a moment, then he shook his head and snorted. He made sure not to make eye contact. "Worry about yourself, warden. I've faced worse."
The rest of the day was mostly quiet, with only the occasional brief conversations and the constant howl of icy wind. When the sun went down and they wrapped themselves up in furs like Veira, most of them managed to fall into a chilled, but sound sleep. But Veira was still awake. She spent most of her days asleep now, although she was still exhausted. She watched Shale walk on, worried that they were pushing too hard. They couldn't be alright, could they? Not after what Caridin did.
She wanted to call out to them to talk, but the blizzard made it too loud for them to hear her. She felt some rustled beside her, as Zevran rolled over to face her. He was still shivering. Thinking of it now, this must be hell for him. The snow by itself was bad enough, but a blizzard like this would be horrible for someone as sensitive to the cold as he was.
"Still awake, hm?" He grinned as he sat up. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm a bit thirsty," she said truthfully.
He reached for his flask of water and brought it to her lips, letting her take a few big gulps before returning it to his belt. "Thank you," she smiled. "If you're cold, come over closer."
His eyebrows shot up happily. "Oh? Now that is a sweet invitation, my dear."
"My fever makes me very warm," she replied with a soft smile, "and you're a baby when it comes to the cold. I might as well share the heat."
Zevran wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her snuggle up in the crook of his neck. "Ah, so sweet and insulting. Normally I would defend my pride, but to borrow the crudeness of our dwarven friend, this-" he pointed up to the icy sky, "is bullshit. So I will happily be selfish and share your fever-induced warmth."
She was so glad he was treating her normally. After everything, all she wanted was for things to return to the way things were. Zevran gave her hope that it would.
"-ve you."
He rested his cheek on her head. "Hm? Did you say something?"
She closed her eyes and smiled. "I'll tell you later."
Seeing the Circle Tower in the distance for the second time felt strange. Last time she had been agonizing over how she left it, wondering if the people she once knew would forgive her for what she did. Now, she couldn't care less about that. Now she was nervous about being able to physically walk out again once more. There may never be a time where she could look at this place and remember the good times again.
At the docks, they had to request a larger ship to bring them across the water. The templar guarding the docks looked at Veira nervously, able to recognize her well enough to know she came from here. He was reluctant to even call for a bigger ship, but luckily he knew Wynne quite well, and through her stern request, a bigger ship came. The templar stayed far away from Shale, however.
By the time they managed to pull Veira and the cart through the doors of the Circle, Irving and Greagoir were there to greet them. Irving immediately rushed to his former student's side to look her over, while Greagoir scowled.
"I hope you realize," Greagoir began, "that the Circle is still in a delicate state and-"
"I am aware," Irving cut him off. "Gather all the healers we have. We are saving my student."
Shale carried Veira carefully to the infirmary, placing her on a table surrounded by six mages including Wynne, Irving, and Petra, Wynne's apprentice. The other three mages were those she has a passing recognition, from her years here and the relief in seeing them alive after Uldred's attempt at destroying the Circle. They were in better health too, which was good. The progress was slow, but the Circle was starting to repair. It was only good in that it was keeping the mages safer and better taken care of, instead of the hellish abomination-infested prison it was months ago.
Wynne smiled gently, and handed a potion she had taken from the infirmary to Veira. "Drink this. It'll put you into a dreamless sleep. A healing of this size and effort won't hurt but...it won't feel great either. It will be uncomfortable if you are awake."
A dreamless sleep was something she really needed. She took the potion, her hand slightly shaky from nerves, then gulped it down in one sip. She relaxed as best as she could against the table, smiling at Irving as he moved a loose strand of hair away from her face. He didn't look nervous, just a bit worried. Then her eyes began to droop, unconsciousness ebbing away at her mind. She vaguely heard Irving say, "see you soon, my dear," before slipping into a blissful sleep with no demons or darkspawn to haunt her.
It was a blink. One blink, and she was back, staring up at the ceiling of the infirmary. There was no one hovering near her. It was quiet. Did it work?
Veira attempted to rise into a sitting position...and she could. But as her upper body moved up, so came a terrible pain with it. It made her gasp and clutch her midsection in shock, taking deep breaths to ease her shaking. But she couldn't. The healing had failed?
Her hands touched the sides of her face. No. No no no-!
"Veira?"
She turned to see Irving moving beside her, his face not at all reassuring. "Why does it still hurt?" she asked quietly, child-like in tone. "Did it fail?"
Irving looked down, his shoulders slumped. He looked like he aged a decade. He shook his head slowly. "No. We healed you fully. But...that should have happened immediately after you were injured. The time it took you to get here...made it so that some of your bones healed wrong. When we healed you, it was already too late. We cannot un-heal those bones. I'm so sorry, Veira."
She could only stare at him blankly. She was going to be like this forever? The last string of hope she had was starting to fray, even as Irving hugged her and told her no matter what he would look after her. And maybe she should take it. Maybe she should just stop now. Alistair could defeat the Blight without her. Maybe it was time to rest...
The faces of her friends flashed before her eyes, the promise to return nagging. Suddenly her feet were moving, pushing Irving away to get off the table. The pain in her side was great, taking the breath out of her, but still she grabbed onto the wall for support. Irving made a noise of surprise, but if he said anything further, she didn't hear it. She rushed out of the infirmary, keeping to the wall.
The thing was, accepting her pain and letting Alistair lead on would be the right thing to do. No one could ever say that she was giving up, and if they did, they would be wrong. But for the first time ever, Veira was eternally grateful that she was a mage. She had one more option. It would be scary and difficult, but she had one. Mouse's demon face flashed in her eyes and she gritted her teeth. She needed to find Wynne.
Mages and templars whispered in the halls as Veira passed them, sweat pouring down her temples and her breathing ragged. Many of them tried to help her, but she ignored them all. She found Wynne in her office, surrounded by the rest of the group. She must be trying to explain what happened. Everyone looked crestfallen.
That soon changed to shock as Veira pulled herself into the room. She didn't have the time or patience to tip toe around the subject. She got to the point.
"Wynne. Send me to the Fade. There's someone I need to see."
