A/N: Hello everyone! I've returned from a short vacation with my family, hence why I have not updated in the last few days. Hoping to remedy that now, not to mention shake the cold that has been haunting me. A lot coming up in this chapter and in the next few to come hope you all enjoy it.
DG
Chapter 43: The Scythe's Desire
Free.
It was a word that Death's Hand had dreamed about for months. Dreamed of and waited patiently for as he languished in his cell over the many long months.
For far too long, he had sat in his cell, imagining what he would do if he got loose, imagining the damage he would do to his enemies, the flames that would consume them all for his disgrace, not to mention the loss of his dreams…of his entire world.
Now that he had his chance, he feared that he might actually lose it again, that his usurping sister might find a way to drag him back into the darkness that she had condemned him to…that he might be…
Whatever happens, he thought, I will not go back to that horrible cell. I will not spend my years rotting in obscurity, a footnote in the history of fair Kirkwall! I…I would rather die first!
He looked over at his sister, bound in one of the corners watched over by several of Gascard's undead. The Qunari whore was with her, bound as well, but in her case…the chains were almost unnecessary. She…she did not have very much time left to her. Dupuis had given her one of his foul potions; it was designed to hold the effects of the wards at bay, not for long of course, but long enough for her to see that Solona had failed…
Long enough for the true ruler, the rightful Viscount of Kirkwall to regain what he had lost.
He paced like a caged lion. Dupuis busied himself with the summoning circle, adding lines where he needed to, pouring the exact portion of ashes where they needed to be.
Death's Hand frowned. When Neria had first described this idea to him, he was understandably…hesitant about it. Both she and Gascard seemed extremely sure about the results of this spell, but he was not so sure.
If it worked, it would take a large leap in erasing one of the greatest loses of his life, but if it failed…if it failed…
He would be left with nothing again.
He was not sure that he could live with that.
No…he could not think like that! It would work. It had to work!
The Orlesian turned to him, a savage smile on his face.
"My master will be most grateful for this second chance Your Excellency," he purred, "You will find that Quentin has many useful skills, skills that will contribute well to your cause in the coming months."
Death's Hand managed a weak smile.
"I'm certain he will," he replied with all the grace he could manage, trying to hide his trepidation about this undertaking, trying not to show any sign of weakness.
An enemy would use such weakness to tear you apart, an ally, equally so.
Dupuis, expression turned thoughtful.
"It is a shame that you never got the chance to meet Quentin, socially I mean, he would certainly have seen the value of what you have been trying to do."
The young noble shrugged. In truth, he had only met the mage Quentin of Starkhaven once, when the man had tried to kidnap Leandra Hawke…
Daylen felt his blood boil slightly.
He had learned of Dupuis's existence when his winters had raided Quentin's safe house beneath the bowels of the foundry district of Kirkwall, recovering many of the master necromancer's tomes and research notes, not to mention many of his experiments.
It was these things that then Viscount Death's Hand had offered the man's apprentice, and it had been over the many months since his capture that the current plan had slowly came into being, Neria aiding the man where she could, finding the materials that he would need.
Now Dupuis believed that he had the means of bringing his master back! Not simply as another rotting corpse, but as something much more, and far more powerful.
Daylen was not above encouraging this fantasy, not if it brought him what he wanted.
Something would be summoned tonight.
It was simply not what Dupuis thought it would be.
The young noble smiled.
The necromancer would be very surprised indeed.
He glanced over at his sister; she continued to glare hatefully at him.
He approached her, their situation now reversed, her in chains, and him in power, a sword and daggers once again were his, not to mention a fine shield. It was not his beloved Roar, but it would serve its purpose when he required it.
"Don't look at me like that Lona," he chided, "I said I would bring you to the tome, and I have. I never said I would let you take it out of here."
She rose to her feet shaking her chains. Death's Hand backed up in momentary fear, he called on his Templar skills to drain her of her mana again, not that it stopped her from raging against of course, or silenced her angry tongue.
"Don't you understand what is going to happen, brother?" she demanded, "If the Qunari do not get that tome, they will…"
"They will destroy Kirkwall," he said finishing her sentence, "They will attack the city, lay waste to the nobles and guards and establish a beach head here in Thedas. There warships will likely come, try to secure their knew holdings, which will no doubt prompt the chantry to call an exalted march on city, ending the Llomerryn accords, and plunging our world back into war."
His eyes flashed with mad amusement.
"Exactly as I have planned."
Her eyes widened in horror.
"Brother…Kirkwall is our city. Our people…they will suffer, the Amell line will end. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
He laughed. It was a cold and merciless sound.
"It means everything to me," he chortled, "The Qunari will purge Kirkwall of the faithless and the foolish, but not before it weakens the Arishok and his men. Not before they render the city all but defenseless to my armies, and once Gascard has completed the summoning. Everything that I desire will finally be ready to come to pass…"
He held up his claws before her, their dark length shadowing her face in the dim light.
"The Qunari will teach our home the lesson of betrayal, and I…I shall destroy what is left, so that I can build something better on the scoured clean foundations of what is left."
She glared at him.
"Does that include your daughter Daylen," she demanded, "Does that include Leandra?"
Daylen snarled and brought back his clawed hand, hungry to strike her for her insolence.
His blue eyes became pained. He stepped back with a heavy sigh.
"Casualties happen in war sister, we lose the ones we love."
He shrugged.
"I hope that they will survive, that they will one day see the rightness of my actions."
"There is nothing right about this brother! You are plunging our home into an ocean of blood!"
"They should have fought against you, tossed you into the sea. Now they will pay for that."
"Daylen!"
"Enough," he roared, "My choice has been made! Kirkwall will burn, but first, first I must attend to the summoning. Then the next phase of my plan can begin."
He turned away from her, making his way back to Gascard.
"Brother?" she called after him.
He paused, glancing back.
"I don't know what you're doing," she said with a tired sigh, "But whatever it is…I beg you to reconsider. I recognize some of the sigils on the floor; you're going to tear open the fade. You're trying to bring something here."
He did not respond, but nor did her deny it.
She shook her head.
"This will end badly brother. Whatever demon your necromancer is summoning will turn on you."
He smiled slightly.
"That mage Quentin's research says otherwise. Using the ashes, I shall bond the soul of one lost to this world, reborn through blood and magic of the fade, but far more powerful than what she was before."
He smirked evilly.
"I was one of three when my journey began," he purred, "I…I cannot finish it as long as we are just two."
He shook his head.
"I will have back what was stolen from me sister. You will see."
He turned away again, eager to watch Dupuis work.
"You will see sister," he murmured.
"You will all see."
He turned to the young necromancer.
"Send your pets out of the vault," he ordered, "My sister has soldiers waiting outside."
His face twisted into a cruel sneer.
"I want them…removed."
Dupuis motioned. All but the two corpses watching the two women shambled towards the entrance.
Death's Hand nodded a self-satisfied expression on his face.
Dupuis looked up at Daylen stepping back from the now completed to summoning circle.
He gave the noble a tired smile.
"We are ready to begin."
IOI
Solona watched in horror as Dupuis began his foul chant. Her magic cringed at the forces being pulled into the circle.
She almost whimpered.
Oh brother…what are you doing?
She looked down at the chains. They were nothing special; she could use her magic to free them. She just needed time. She looked over at Tallis; the Qunari woman slumped against the wall. The concoction that Dupuis had given her prolonged her life, but that would not last.
"Tallis?" she whispered.
The other woman did not respond.
"Tallis," she hissed, "We have to get out of here."
The dark skinned woman gave her a sad look.
"It matters not now Kadan," she said sadly, "Even if I survive this…I…I have been separated from my weapon. I am soulless a deserter in the eyes of the Qun. I…I will be slain on sight."
She shook her head.
"Your brother has murdered me."
The Viscountess hissed in fury.
"Damn you Tallis," she hissed, "This is no time for self-pity! Daylen is summoning something evil into this world. We can't let that happen! Kirkwall needs us. Your own people need you!"
"I have no people."
"They will die Tallis, puppets dancing on Daylen's strings. Do you want that? Where is the will of the Qun in that?"
"The Arishok will…"
"The Arishok will do what he thinks is the will of the Qun. He will deliver all of Kirkwall into Daylen's hands. Daylen will use him to weaken the city just in time for him to attack…"
She glared the Qunari woman.
"Death's Hand is a bas, Tallis. Do the Qunari now serve the will of the bas?"
"We serve the Qun," she said some of her old fire flashing in her words; "We are servants of nothing else."
"Then help me stop this!"
"I…I can't…"
"Damn you Tallis!"
"Kadan…please…"
"Daylen will kill everyone Tallis. He will rip Kirkwall apart!"
"I…"
"He will kill Gray, Tallis."
The Qunari woman's golden eyes widened.
Solona gave her a desperate look. It was a desperate gambit, but it was the last card she had to play.
She prayed to the Maker that the Qunari woman would not reject it.
She gave her friend a hard look.
"He will kill Gray," she repeated.
Tallis's eyes narrowed.
"No…no one," she growled, "No one will harm Gray."
The Viscountess almost sobbed.
Praise the Maker.
Tallis looked down at her chains; she was still weak, but maybe…
An ungodly shriek filled the chamber. An unholy light blazed in the center of the summoning circle. A fel light so bright that it burned the eyes of all who looked into it.
Even the corpses guarding them shied away from it.
Solona looked down at her chains.
Now was their chance.
IOI
Death's Hand stared into the abyss, the blinding light filling his eyes, burning his retinas.
He did not look away.
He couldn't.
He drank in the dark magic, letting it fill him, letting it lift him up.
He nearly laughed, drunk on the raw power of it.
"Your Excellency," Gascard warned, "Stay back."
Death's Hand ignored him. What did the word of a worker ant mean to a lion?
He stared into the abyss, and something within stared back!
He laughed coldly.
"It is time Gascard," he exclaimed, "Let the ashes draw the one we seek across the veil. Let them step into our world again!"
The necromancer obeyed, moving to the next rite, the rite of summoning.
He slashed his hand; blood began to swirl in the air. The magic within drawing in the ashes, helping them form the shape that the one they sought would take upon his arrival.
Gascard looked upon the swirling portal with almost godlike awe. Daylen could almost imagine the man's thoughts.
Quentin was coming back…
…and he would give his apprentice everything!
Daylen pursed his lips with amusement.
Treachery was always a useful tool, and he used it well, but it was only part of the equation.
Deception was nothing without unthinking trust…without pride.
He could taste Gascard's pride, drank it in like wine, the magic within him took it in, giving him more and more strength.
Daylen forced his will into the portal, demanding that the one they sought come forth.
Come to me, he thought hungrily, I have waited far too long.
Slowly a shadow began to form in the heart of the blazing tear, a shadow that began to come towards them.
Gascard help up his hands trying to hold the spell together.
"We are doing it Your Excellency," he exclaimed, "He is coming! Quentin is coming!"
Death's Hand stepped forward, eager to welcome the new arrival.
He let the ashes and blood magic wash around him, unafraid of what was starting to emerge from the tear.
The magic flickered, the air seemed to change.
Daylen frowned.
What was trying to emerge from the tear.
He spun on the necromancer.
"WHAT IS GOING ON!" he demanded.
Dupuis's face was pinched with concentration, sweat ran down his brow.
"The blood," he gasped, "The blood is not enough! The portal cannot handle what is trying to cross over!"
Daylen turned towards the opening, the ground shook beneath their feet. It felt as if the vault would collapse in on them, crushing them all.
The shadow began to dissipate, he watched in horror as it began to slip back beyond the veil.
"WE must stop it!" he said glaring at Dupuis.
The Necromancer turned.
He looked at Solona and Tallis.
"Bring the woman," he said pointing at Solona, "Her mage blood will stabilize the portal."
Death's Hand looked at Solona and Tallis, his smile turning cruel.
"Hold the portal Gascard," he purred, "I will give you the life you need."
The Necromancer nodded, he looked away from the noble, all his attention focused on the portal.
He did not see Daylen Amell circle around behind him.
Nor did he see the clawed hand punch through his spine, ripping out his heart.
Gascard gasped, he looked down at the claws, his still beating heart in the black talons.
He felt Death's Hand's warm breath on his neck.
"Sorry Gascard," he purred, "But no one kills my sister, but me."
He yanked his hand from the necromancer's back, pushing his body into the summoning circle; the magic devoured the blood flowing from the man's wounds. It feasted on the dying man's soul.
Death's hand poured blood from his heart on the summoning circle, strengthening it.
The shadow grew, drawn to the strengthened portal.
Gascard Dupuis had just enough consciousness left to see the shape stepping towards him.
To realize in that one sad moment that Death's Hand had betrayed him.
"Qu…Quentin?" he murmured as his body was consumed by the fel flames of the portal.
The laughter that emerged was not Quentin's.
The newly born demon had not even been a mage.
It…it wasn't even a man.
The last of Gascard Dupuis melted away.
He did not have to worry about the void.
There was nothing left of his soul to damn.
The demon stepped forth into the world of mortals.
Daylen extended a bloody clawed hand.
Delicate fingers found his, fingers that he had once known quite intimately.
He helped it…her step across the threshold.
The portal flashed, the room shook as if filled with thunder.
The portal closed but not before it released the one who had been summoned.
They stood together, Death's Hand and his heart's desire, now…desire given physical form.
She gave him that same cunning smile that had always turned his knees to jelly.
He pulled her into his arms as he had many times in the past.
She is so warm, he thought, was she always so warm?
The demon gave him a demure look.
"I…I remember you," she purred in a throaty sexy voice.
He smiled at her.
"You should my dear," he said, stroking her cheek.
She sighed, leaning into his touch, drinking in the lust and desire he was feeling.
He shook his head.
She was more beautiful than he remembered.
Light lavender skin, firm beautiful body, the same body that he remembered so well from many dark rendezvous. The only true differences he could see was her fingers, now adorned with long sharp talons, that and the small cone shaped horns that poked through her short black hair.
Not that that mattered, she was perfect, she had always been perfect.
She pranced as she stepped out of the summoning circle moving on delicate cloven hooves for feet, her breath coming in soft animalistic snorts. A long tail swayed as she glanced around at the dark chamber with disdain.
"I do not like this place Daylen," she pouted, "Let us leave."
He smiled at her.
"Soon enough my love," he promised, "Soon enough.
IOI
Solona shivered.
She felt no pity for Gascard Dupuis, had he known Daylen the way she did…
He would have expected treachery, and what treachery it had been.
She…she had thought Daylen only to be summoning a demon, but what she saw before her…
She realized that it was something worse…
…Something far worse.
Tallis glared at the creature.
"A demon," she spat.
"Not just any demon," the Viscountess whispered.
The creature noticed her then, she approached her imperiously, a cruel smirk on her pretty features.
"I remember you as well." The desire demon purred.
She smiled wickedly at the Viscountess.
"Hello my sister," the desire demon that had once been Angelique Poole-Amell hissed.
Her face twisted with demonic glee.
"It has been far too long."
