Offended Pride
Even after my assertions the council drags on for a long time. I am a bit offended that they doubt the success of my mission so readily; but begrudgingly admit that even I would have prepared a backup plan. And I know just how good I am. If only it did not take them so many needless words! I bet the Creators were swifter when they were shaping Thedas than this indecisive bunch.
Finally my annoyance overflows, and I sneak out quietly, Nervlis follows behind me with slightly more racket, his stealth skills limited by his leg in cast.
'Gather our people, we have a little something to arrange for tonight.' As soon as I finish these words, I begin coughing, choking on the gust of ever-present dust. Nervlis nods and after a couple of minutes his aides come rushing in. He delegates them efficiently while I sit in the sole chair in the room, trying to find my breath again.
And then they come, my most trusted. I fight off nausea at the back of my throat, knowing with certainty that there's a traitor among them. There's Valeria, grimacing slightly while she salutes sloppily. Fenris, with grim solemnity and watchful eyes darting to check up on me. Bethany, smiling slightly with mischievous glint in her eyes. I know I'll never hear the end of this about me and Fen and hding it from them. Riv with wide grin, attempting an overbearing hug at the entrance which I sidestep neatly. Ever-serious Ryanth, though he relaxes his stiff posture a bit once the cloth is back down and no outsiders can see it. Arissar the spymaster nods respectfully, somehow managing to look more inconspicuous than the rest of us in spite of the horns and gigantic posture. And, last but not least, my second, elevated over my own daughter once he proved his capabilities. Nervlis drops to the ground in the elaborate bow I had once showed them and I immediately decide he has something to prove. Question is - what?
'Nervlis, stop with this nonsense at once.' I snap angrily, motioning him up. A shadow crosses his face and I know we have to talk, and soon; before this festers into conflict much harder to resolve.
But not now.
There's a gaping hole in the circle, as they naturally take their usual positions around the table. The sorrow is too fresh for anyone to dare and fill it in though; and I leave it as it is.
'I need a distraction near the south wall. Make it within sight of the gate; but far enough so that it does not look like an attack on it.' I summarize my requirements succinctly .
'Timeline?' Fenris asks, raising his eyebrow thoughtfully while looking down on the terrain map.
I count in my head – I want the attack of Inquisition forces to be timed at first light, when the skies are greying. Over an hour to lull the garrison back into complacency after failed surprise assault; and about two hours for my task…
'Begin about two hours after midnight, and make it last for two.' I take a step back and allow them to discuss the strategies without my input. They are the ones who know individual capabilities of their people. I keep tabs only on generalities, or I would never have time for anything else. We grew too large, and with so many things I have to keep track of I gave up direct commanding years ago.
I leave them to their discussion, and return to my tent, fully intending on catching at least a couple of hours of sleep. I might be fully rested, but with the exertions this night and morning promise, I'll need to be in top form.
I'm somewhat surprised to find Nervlis had followed me back. He is not going to be a part of the assault, for obvious reasons... Still I had expected him to be at least interested. Even though he as well, aside from personal aides, doesn't have a squadron under his command. He had given it up with his rank's elevation. I off-handedly wonder if he misses it, considering his presence. Why had he come?
I do not have to wait for his explanation, as he launches into heated accusations.
'Fean'Na, this has to stop. We are putting everything on the line to protect you. And yet you deny all our efforts when you blindly rush to sacrifice yourself for like that.'
'But that's just what I do!' I exclaim, astounded. 'You did not mind it so much when I went after you two years ago.'
'Don't be ridiculous; you know the situation doesn't compare in the slightest. You kept yourself out of the danger for the most part; and most certainly did not put yourself up for slaughter like today.' Nervlis draws a breath. His eyes soften a bit, when he continues. 'I know that our friend's deaths hit you hard, but you can't just get careless like that every time we lose someone. People die, Pride. There are many Wings who had died on your orders. Are they any less important just because you did not know them that well?'
I escape with my eyes, unable to face his words. Of course they are not less important, but I just can't bring myself to care for everyone in equal degree. Is he telling me to stop treating them like my friends, and instead see them merely as subordinates? That's beyond me.
'Pride.' Nervlis says my name gently, like a delicate caress. 'The world would be fine with me gone; but your loss is one it won't recover from.'
I clench my fists; how wrong he is. Thedas would have been much better off with me gone – and aeons ago.
Nervlis, seeing my blatant disagreement and shakes his head, muttering in a low voice - clearly forgetting I can hear him.
'You don't see it… Of course you don't. If you had, you wouldn't be yourself. You have given us so much already…' And then, more loudly. 'We do not want you to lay down your life. For any of us. Go on. Be yourself, fulfil your goals without ever fully explaining yourself as you have done so far. We trust you to lead us to a brighter future; we are ready to die for it. For you. You are demeaning our efforts with your careless attitude.'
I glance at him in disbelief, pursing my lips. There has to be a limit to his outrageous statements; and I have never seen such almost worshipping attitude from any of them towards me. Thankfully. I would have gone batshit crazy if that had been the case.
I want to interject, deny these blatant untruths. Nervlis however easily overrides my protest, and words die in my throat as he carries on.
'I meant to keep the full truth from you. Alas. You have left me with no choice.' His eyes turn grimly severe, and I brace myself. 'Esme and Ebareth did not have a quick death. They were tortured for hours to no end. They have not revealed anything.'
'No.' I whisper in denial, hoping, praying with all my heart he would take it back. But his patience has clearly run out, as he continues mercilessly in a steady pace. Like a metronome measuring passing seconds; in vast contrast to my erratically beating heart.
'If you thought about it, you would have known it as well. I mean, really, a well-prepared raid – who would allow for any chance interruption?'
I do not want to hear more, but I can't make him stop. Spellbound, I listen helplessly as truth comes pouring out of him; and my mind reels in shock.
'According to physician, they were worked on for at least twelve hours. Twelve hours, Fean'Na. And that's not even the worst of it.'
Please, stop. Don't say any more. I do not want to know.
But Nervlis remains unmoved by the silent plea in my eyes, as he strikes the final blow.
'Our sources in the Qun related to us that they were offered a plea bargain. Everything they knew in regards to you, specifically, and their children walk away free.' I close my eyes, unable to cope with inevitable continuation. It still comes, another tick in the metronome. 'They did not betray you. Esme and Ebareth were forced to watch their children die in front of them and yet they did not say a word.'
'This is the extent of our devotion to you, Pride – our loyalty is more than life itself; it extends far beyond it.'
'You are belittling their sacrifice when you throw your life away like you did today. You have a duty, to them, to us, to survive. Survive and reshape the world to fit your ideal – because that's what pulled us to you in the first place.'
'I'm not telling you to stop fighting – because I fully believe in the normal circumstances, you will make it out fine. Maybe not completely unscathed, but fine. In the worst case, your peculiar strengths will allow you a clean break and escape.'
'Some could say you have demon's luck, but that's not exactly the case. You are not the best in Thedas because you are stronger than anyone – that is just not true. No, you simply know how to pick your battles and you make your own luck.'
'So don't go rushing into death's embrace ever again.'
I force my eyes to open, and look at him silently, unable to come up with any response. Words have completely left me.
Nervlis, however, does not expect one from me. He bows deeply, and once I waive my hand dismissively, departs.
Leaving me with my burden increased tenfold.
I can't deny some part of me was suspicious of Esme's and Ebareth's deaths. His letter, and later the words of my Seere Wings were too clean-cut… Rehearsed. As if they had done it before. Or maybe I grew too jaded, always expecting the worst? In the back of my mind I wonder – if he so readily lied about something this important… What else did he lie about? What else has been perceived too dangerous to admit for my own good?
And isn't it heartless of me that after this full of worry and concern speech he directed at me, the most important thing for me was not my friend's sacrifice, but the realization that I need to suspect them all, from now on?
It makes me tired. Still, regardless of my best intentions, I can't very well fall asleep after that. I go over his words endlessly, shaken by purity of their conviction. It is downright terrifying, the fact that he completely believed in what he spoke of.
I am humbled by their devotion. I am petrified by the responsibility it places on me. I am shocked by the implications. Because now, I am no longer supposed to ensure their survival…
Nervlis told me, explicitly. I am to guarantee their death is meaningful. I am to treat them as chess pieces on my very own game board. I am to achieve my own goals – and I am not even liable an explanation.
I have a sudden bout of nausea, and then a red haze coats my eyes. I've never wanted it to become like this! It is more constricting than ever… And I wonder how much further I can be pushed. Why even my own friends try to make me into a sociopath?
Trying to make sense of my jumbled feelings leaves me an emotional wretch. And ultimately proves pointless. I end up no less confused than I was hours before, only much more exhausted. I feel a wave of relief once Nervlis comes in. The status update of the strike teams is just what I needed to abandon the maudlin exercise in futility.
The night is dark, and air refreshingly cool when I step outside. It helps clearing my mind, as I fixate on the task. Somewhere far away the Huntress star gleams brightly, a clear sign the morning is still hours away. I stretch slightly, and squeeze my second's arm both in reassurance and silent command to proceed. I fish out the few things I'll need - a long rope with a heavy sack secured to it, and Bianca's gift.
I do not dally, intent on making use of the darkest - and thus the best - part of the night for my needs. I begin cautious approach to the gates, skulking from shade of one rock to another. I do not shy away from using mana to blink whenever I deem the distance to my next hiding place too great to pass safely. The heavy sack on my back bounces against my spine; but I press on relentlessly, disregarding temporary discomfort. Bruises will heal. I am nearing the huge wooden gates when a loud, melodious sound from defenders' horn wakes up the garrison. Voices of the startled guards ring in the night, as they rush to support their comrades. It leaves gates mostly unguarded, aside from skeletal crew, and I use the opportunity swiftly crossing the remainder of distance.
Urgently I reach to the sack and begin pressing gaatlok into creases between wooden planks. The wood is old and battered by desert winds; there are many larger and smaller holes. Once I deem the amount sufficient, I burn out a small hole in the base and push more of the explosive into created space. And finally, I cut my fingers and draw a glyph - somewhat skewed due to uneven surface of wood.
The noises of Wings' mages assaulting the walls get louder, pounding offensive spells into the mostly magic-resistant surface. Half of my time is already up, and I am nowhere near finished. Grabbing much-lighter sack of gaatlok I run to the side, distancing myself from the decoy. Looking up, I do not see any guards in the vicinity; patrols have naturally drifted towards battle. The walls are well-prepared and too polished to climb up... but this is where Bianca's gift comes into play. I throw my silver string up in the air and send it flying, until it secures itself onto a wooden overhead. Typically the construction is used to protect defenders against archers - but this time, it will serve to their detriment. With a grunt of pain when silver digs into my skin I lift myself upwards, and jump soundlessly onto the overhead.
Pulling sack up by the rope I've brought, I take a scrutinizing look around. Defence appear completely absorbed by the little distraction my people have prepared. Good.
Grabbing onto gaatlok, I dismiss stairs and flip myself in the air and onto a courtyard, expending even more of my mana to break down the fall. I repeat the process of scrunching gaatlok into gates as I did on the other side. Finishing up with another glyph, I strap empty sack to my side and quickly run up. Now the most important thing - not allowing anyone to see me. If they did, they would start to wonder, and everything would have been for naught.
Glyphs take some time to settle in.
My luck seems to have run out, for there's a patrol passing through my escape route. Instinctively I drop down from the stairs, hanging on the side merely by tips of my fingers. Adrenaline runs in my veins. I hear loud thuds of my frantic heartbeat in my ears as my fingers strain under the pressure of holding my body in the air. I pray to the Creators they do not look down. Gods seem to hear my fervent pleas, for the soldiers pass me by unaware. Crawling onto the battlement I breathe in relief, attempting to calm down my rapid pulse. Once my hands stop shaking I do not waste any more time, and jump down straight from the walls onto sand, once again slowing my descent with magic.
All those tricks do come in handy, if I say so myself.
I run away from the fortress as fast as I can, racket on the other side considerably slowing down. Nervlis knows time is up; there's no need to tire our fighters without need.
Back in my quarters I treat my arm, dispassionately noting scars already embedded in my skin after merely a month of using the string. Constantly healing and again cutting left its mark. Bandages soon soak in vibrant red, but the bleeding stops. I drink greedily a couple mouthfuls of water, clearing my parched throat from the dust. This damned desert. I hate it. I hate sand, and too much sun, and when even shade does not provide much relief from heat. Gods made a terrible mistake when they created this region...
After another half an hour, I make my way to Inquisition's side of the camp; skies greying at my back. Nervlis is already there, apparently having remained after Wings' offensive was finished. I approach Ellana and her companions briskly, and ask,
'Is everything in place?'
'I sincerely hope you haven't dragged us out at asscrack of dawn for nothing, Flash.' Varrick grumbles under his nose, grimacing in direction of the fortress.
'People are in positions.' Cassandra replies to my question. I nod, acknowledging the information and thanking her for it.
'Do you have lyrium potion at hand? I could use some boost.' I ask Nervlis, who immediately reaches to the pouch at his side.
'I thought you might need it.' He smiles, tossing blue bottle in my direction.
I pull out the stopper. However before I can drink, someone snatches bottle from my hand. I tense, instinctively reacting to an unexpected presence at my back.
'You are not drinking that.' Says a masculine voice from above my ear. I force my muscles to relax in recognition.
'Fen.' I sigh in exasperation. 'Don't be ludicrous, a small amount won't kill me.'
Instead of replying he cups my chin and lowers his face drawing me into a kiss. I attempt to speak, but Fen uses the opportunity to sneak in his tongue. My protest melts in his mouth, as I further loosen up in his secure hold. I am so lost in his touch I do not realize that his eyes begin glowing. On the edge of my awareness I note flow of power, but then Fen pulls me closer and my mind decides to take a break.
Creators I've missed this! And I've missed him. So. Damn. Much. It has been only, what, two months? Less than that. I come completely undone under his touch. I forget about the army of onlookers; soldiers in wait, Inquisitor glowering hostilely, and my astounded Wings; enjoying the sensation that is uniquely my wolf.
'You should not have done that.' I murmur breathlessly once he finally lets go. Probing my reserve, I can feel it completely replenished. 'You are the one who is going to be fighting on the frontline; you need mana more than me.'
'I could always use lyrium.'
'No!' I say without thinking and then blush, embarrassed, once I realize he was joking. Why would he need it at all? His own reserves are likely barely touched by this exchange... Clearly following my train of thought, Fen smirks in condescension.
'Double standards much, Pride?' He ruffles my hair affectionately.
'I do not see what she would need the mana for. Gate remains standing.' Ellana snips irritably, and I suddenly remember there are other people around.
For a moment I could have sworn there were only two of us in the world. Void; the man will be the end of me. If I ever lost him it would be much worse to bear than any crime I might have on my conscience.
I guess that makes me a monster.
I swat away his hand and turn in fortress's direction. Extending my hand I whip around silver string, stretching it fully until it reaches the gates. It flays to gain momentum, making a swishing sound before embedding itself into the center of my crude glyph. With a deep breath I concentrate, reaching inside while inconspicuously cutting my finger on the string. The power behind both actions triggers release of the glyph.
'Ladies and gentlemen.' I bow theatrically with a wild flap of my hand, as two consecutive blasts tear the wood into shreds. 'The way is open. A courtesy of a little magic and our Qunari allies.'
If looks could kill I would have died on the spot. But both Iron Bull and Ellana focus on their respective roles, leading the charge before our enemies have a chance to somehow fill this sudden hole in their defence.
'Wings will remain in the backguard, as was previously discussed.' I remind Nervlis sharply.
My second nods, and I do not waste any more time in joining the fray. Fen sticks closely to my side, his aura coating me defensively. I grin widely. There's nothing quite as liberating as being able to give it my all and knowing he is there to cover all of my openings.
Battle on the outer courtyard is short and brutal; Warden's morale completely destroyed by the loss of gates. Inner yard takes a bit longer to take under control, with a rift there. And then there's a familiarly ominous roar of a dragon coming from above us, perched on the tower. We exchange worried glances, and I wave Fen off.
'Go on with Ellana. I'll manage just fine.' I slash through another demon while he wavers indecisively.
'Go.' I repeat, and the wolf nods tightly, dissapearing in a blue flash of magic.
I return my attention to what few opponents remain. Inquisition forces have already secured the walls, voices of Wardens rising their hands in surrender can be heard all-over.
Another roar tears through the air. It flies up and spits flames on the path of four small figures, clearly climbing up the keep. But his fire doesn't reach them, swallowed in by a blue barrier. Fen clearly made it just in time.
I can't keep looking at the situation above, a new wave of demons hits us. They come from large hole in reality in the center of battlefield, and without Ellana there isn't anyone around to close it. When I am finally able to spare a moment to look upwards dragon is gone… But so is half of the keep.
I feel a flicker of unease, but otherwise keep my calm. Falling back from the frontlines, I gather a contingent of Wings' mages to create a barrier surrounding the rift. It temporarily stops demonic invasion, awaiting Inquisitor's returns to close it for good.
The people in Inquisition are in complete panic. The four who were chasing after Warden Commander Clarel and winged menace are gone, disappeared into thin air. Random search for them is mounted, without much hope of success. Forces are thrown into disarray, contradictory orders issued by Cullen and Leliana who nearly come to blows; both of them deeply affected by this unexpected turn of events.
I do not allow this frenzied atmosphere to affect me, focusing on tending to the few injuries we have. Not bothering about line of command, I also take care of Inquisition's wounded soldiers, avoiding having to deal with the two completely out-of-sorts people. With help of Bethany and Fiona medic stations are set up; Valeria and Ryanth organise a meal for everyone to eat. With an advice from Nervlis, overlooking the operations, I delegate a couple of people under Fenris to begin clearing debris from the crucial locations.
There's no telling the dragon won't return. I haven't seen it die; and there's no carcass anywhere to be found. It is, likely, still alive and well; although in the heat of the battle I have completely missed the action.
But it would be far from the truth if I said I wasn't irritated by this sudden bout of incompetence from our allies. So when Vivienne comes with her busybodying ways putting her nose where it isn't wanted, I snap at her without holding back.
'My, but you are positively agitated, dear.' She glows with unhealthy satisfaction, and I grit my teeth to stop instinctive reply that I'm no one's dear; and most assuredly not hers.
'Not at all, Madame. I simply could not bear for your exquisite outfit to get dirty from all the hard work.' I answer in sickly sweet tone, dripping with sarcasm. Madame de Fer purses her full lips in dissatisfaction, unwittingly glancing at her ridiculous robe. It used to be white, all right - only in this conditions the once pristine colour creates a greater contrast with smudges and dust, further exposing them.
'I would hate for you, dear, to be disappointed when your pointy-eared lover does not come back.'
I bristle at such description of my wolf. So demeaning; so disrespectful. Who is Vivienne to judge him? But I forcefully remind myself that this is not the moment to enlighten her as to his complete superiority to her.
'Fen will return, I have no doubts.' Nervlis limping, comes closer and gives me the reports I've asked him for. I glance at them pointedly, strongly suggesting for the mage to leave. However, she is a stubborn - and brazen - pursuing the topic.
'I can't really comprehend this respectful deference both you and the Inquisitor have towards the apostate.'
'Might be 'cause you are blind.' I mutter under my nose, rifling through Wings' supply records and checking up on the remaining reserves. Vivienne hears my disinterested comment, but decides to leave it unanswered, continuing with her previous thought as if I had not said a word.
'He is an uneducated savage, without any fundamental knowledge whatsoever.' I barely stifle a derisive snort at this farfetched description. Fen was the one to create most of the basics Vivienne so enthusiastically draws on; and to call him uneducated simply because he did not follow Circle's restrictive curriculum is simply ludicrous.
'Then again, I could not expect either of you to fully comprehend his lacks. Inquisitor's fundamentals are just as lacking; and you are not even a proper mage. I've seen the little tricks you use and call magic.' Vivienne sneers, while Wings around me tense. I, on the other hand, remain completely indifferent. I could care less about her opinion of me, and I sincerely hope she will leave after having said her piece.
But she does not.
'I can't, for the love of god, understand why do these people follow you at all. You are neither particularly powerful, nor are you capable of sound judgement.'
I close the book with a loud snap which makes Nervlis's assistant jump nervously in place. Vivienne just crossed the line which should not have been crossed.
'You have exactly one second to retract the statement you've just made.' I speak deceptively mildly, feeling mana swirl inside me in response to my anger.
'Or?'
'Or I'll make you regret it. Believe me, you do not want that.' I shove tome into the hands of a trembling man beside me, my eyes glittering dangerously. He grabs it and flinches away.
'Oh, do try. I hope you at least manage to relieve my boredom.' She picks up the staff, while I wave people away from the center of courtyard. The glow on my fingers must be convincing, for they positively scurry out of the way.
I begin sedately circling Vivienne, slowly picking up pace. She turns around to face me, her clothes shining in slightly purple shade from defensive aura. When I begin running, I fade step right behind her, my fingers jamming right into her defence which comes crashing down. Vivienne gasps taking a step backwards, and immediately recasts her spell. This time, she adds an offensive one as well, and soon a four missiles fly in my direction. I whirl away from each one, faster than a thought appearing behind her so that they turn against her. Vivienne's barrier falls a second time, only now I add a good kick to her knees and send her face down to the ground.
'Do pick yourself up, Madame. I do hope you will manage to be more entertaining than just that.' I taunt snarkily, circling her again.
Vivienne does have a nasty grimace on her face standing up, which looks somewhat comical with the sand in her eyebrows. She spits out sand, and comes after me seriously. A flurry of strikes from her staff and strong barrier - strong combination of offence and defence, which makes for a well-trained Knight Enchanter.
I dodge and erect small bursts of mana to shield her strikes when necessary, blinking at her back and whittling away her barrier whenever she is focused on the attack. In the back of my head I realize grimly she is much less of a threat than Iron Bull was, and isn't this a sad testament to the overall weakness of Continental Mages if one like Vivienne is considered powerful.
Another well-aimed, powerful blow at Vivienne's back sends her flying. I am about to finish the fight - admonishing myself that no, killing supposed allies is not in a good taste - when Fen's voice calls from above.
'Pride, you should not pick on children.'
'I am pretty sure the woman has left her youth behind, Fen. She certainly shows no imagination attributable to them.' I counter casually, keeping Vivienne in the peripheral view. I wouldn't put it past her to try and strike at me in the back to avenge her mortification. It is a perfectly acceptable practice in Orlais. Otherwise unaffected by his application to my sportsmanship, I take another step in Vivienne's direction. A sudden swish of movement, and he grabs my hand.
'You are all tense. What's wrong?'
'She is what is wrong. She annoys me, she has disparaged you and the Inquisitor and my people having nothing whatsoever to speak of in her own favour. I've longed to teach her a lesson for the longest time. Her existence offends me.' And I have killed for less. Much less.
'Fean'Na, you are letting shem get to you. She is nothing, not worth your attention. Some people never mature.' And damn him, Fen is smirking while saying those words, so I am uncertain whether he means Vivienne, or myself. His double entendre completely disarms me. I can't help but laugh at this typical for him play on words. Kissing softly his cheek, I say,
'Welcome back.'
