The Pieces Are Moving
Following nearly an hour's wandering, Abelas came upon his superior in a dark corner of the central chamber that held the temple's eluvian. The interminable time was not for lack of knowledge of the mage's whereabouts, but rather due to the indirect paths that this treacherous underground haven required. The ageless guardian could almost smell the raw, tainted magic. The Dread Wolf had certainly held to his promise – he was willing to sacrifice everything to atone for his mistakes.
With his own Foci unlocked and in his grasp, Solas would have been more than capable of obliterating the Veil and shackling the Evanuris, weakened as they would be. But since his failed plan with Corypheus, the only solution was to gain enough power to seize command over the other Foci, and in turn the Orbs' masters. They had all but one. Would it be enough?
Ideally, in the weeks to come, the Veil would be torn and the Evanuris imprisoned anew. They could start afresh. But if the mortals managed to attack before the Dread Wolf was ready…things could turn out very differently. There would be no cages into which they could cloister their vengeful betters.
"I suspect you came with purpose, Abelas."
Solas turned away from the fresco he had been studying, hands regally tucked behind his back. His expression was utterly indecipherable, but he did look older somehow, and perhaps ill. Though their methods had been slow, careful, and intended to empower without maiming the mind, occasional flickers of torchlight revealed glittering glints of crimson – sometimes in the eyes, sometimes under the skin. The warrior would have assumed it to be a mere trick of the light, had he not witnessed the unsettling crystal-filled laboratories himself. They had needed power, and the Trickster had taken the load onto his own shoulders – rightfully so.
"Are you well? I am aware that the mortals' movements have forced us to…quicken our efforts."
Fen'Harel stared blankly at the far wall for a moment, his mind seemingly in another world.
"I have just returned," he finally deadpanned.
"How many were sacrificed to move the stockpile of that…poison?"
The mage clearly noted the slight venom in his lieutenant's tone, but he chose to ignore it.
"The Orbs are safe, the lyrium moved, and the trap is underway. We only need time to prepare. The question is…will we have that time?"
"Hm," Abelas grunted in disapproval. "The Cult continues to prowl the borders of the city. They may prove beneficial, should other curious eyes approach the area – two problems will take care of each other. But these Tevinters are proving much more…industrious than we anticipated. The one leading the charge – this Savior of Vyrantium, Fabria – seems determined to stop their squabbling and turn the focus back to us."
"Likely with outside help," the god mused, causing the other man to grimace in annoyance. His one weakness.
"The famed 'Herald of Andraste' seems to have very little to do their renewed vigor. Several neighboring kingdoms, however, have pledged their assistance. We may soon have an army on our doorstep."
The Dread Wolf's jaw stiffened, his hands tightening into balled fists as his voice dropped.
"Let them come."
With Morrigan, Chiz, and Reef at his back, Gideon told himself he had nothing to worry about. Just going into a dark forest outside the city to meet with an enemy contact. No big deal, he tried to comfort himself. If all went according to plan, he would initiate negotiations with the representative of the Ariqun – the minds of the Qun, as Reef put it. Whatever that meant. These were the same people who denounced the Arishok's attack on Kirkwall; hopefully, they would do the same for Tevinter.
The captain stood at the roadside, within a stone's throw from the forest canopy, and he waited. After but a few minutes, his patience was rewarded by a harsh female voice.
"I allowed this meeting out of respect for your actions at Vyrantium and the Deep Roads. You dare bring that Tal-Vashoth?"
"You rather I keep secrets than place all my cards on the table?" the man chortled, glancing apologetically up at his one-horned mage companion. "I have seen enough to know that it is foolish to attempt to hide anything from those in your profession. You received my message?"
The towering Qunari appeared from the shadows, her piercing gaze studying the human's face for any sign of trickery. The butt of her massive spear sank into the icy moss as she leaned forward, the beads that adorned her raven braids clinking together in the silence.
"You wish us to cease the hostilities, to join in the fight against an elven god."
"The same elven god who decimated the invasion attempt of the Dragon's Breath," he nodded. "You hunt for him as well. He is as much your enemy as anyone else's."
The terrifying female hummed in thought.
"We search for his true name. With that, we could track a person back through the best and worst of themselves. Find flaws. Exploit weaknesses. Know what they had failed to be," she finished with a hiss at Reef. Reef only glared back. "Is his name truly Dread Wolf? Is it Solas? What was his first name, the one he failed or achieved?"
"Well…"
Gideon was about to offer what he knew so far from Lady Lavellan, but the Qunari held up a silencing hand.
"I will not tolerate guesses. We see merit in your offer, but you must prove yourself worthy, bas. Come to our camp at midnight tomorrow. We shall see what sort of man you truly are. Should you be found worthy to be called basalit-an…we will fight this Fen'Harel at your side. If the other humans will cooperate."
"And...if I don't prove worthy?" he dared ask, earning an uncomfortably amused cough from Reef. The Ariqun chuckled darkly.
"I will see that your head is cleanly removed from your body."
"Oh." Gideon tried to make eye-contact with Morrigan for any hint of support, but she refused to meet his gaze. "Good."
Divine Victoria wandered through the secluded halls of the Cathedral of Val Royeaux, already itching to be back in the field. Had it really been no more than three days since her last visit to the Seekers? She could only hope the passing pilgrims and sisters assumed her contemplation was in prayer rather than restlessness and worry. Inquisitor Lavellan had failed to answer any of her letters for at least two months, and news of Tevinter's misfortunes – not to mention everyone else's problems – continued to assault her desk. Pleas, petitions, and prayers only went so far. She wanted to hit something.
At last, Cassandra reached the sanctuary of her quarters. With a heavy sigh, she removed the suffocating headdress and passed behind the changing screen to quickly switch to more comfortable attire. As she cinched the belt over her thick tunic, she thanked the Maker that she was able to demand the afternoon for 'solitude and reflection'; this translated to pouring over maps and hitting things in her private practice yard.
The woman nearly took a swing at the dark figure she found leaning against the nearest open window when she emerged.
"Your security is more slack than I anticipated," Leliana sang teasingly. "I will have to have a word with the patrol in the gardens – watching their own feet is no way to catch an intruder."
Cassandra growled under her breath at her partner's insufferably stealthy nature and threw open the doors to her practice yard. The Nightingale followed in her wake.
"When I told you that your spies could use the west wing for your temporary base, that invitation did not extend to my private quarters." The redhead waited patiently for the warrior to huffily select a practice sword. The sensation of a weapon in her hand had an instantly calming effect. "What do you want, old friend?"
"I received word. They have found Fen'Harel."
"I did hear," Cassandra grumbled. "But do they intend to mount an assault? How many of his followers are with him? Does Inara know of this?"
"They are launching an assault," was the calculated answer. "Empress Celene sent a small force to assist, which should arrive before their intended attack. I heard the Seekers were not dispatched. May I ask why?"
"You know what Solas is capable of, especially after we followed his trail through those mirrors. The assault may happen in Tevinter, but he could escape. And, with his ease of movement, his true base of operations could be on the other side of the world. We must be ready." She paused to take a calculated stab at a practice dummy. "I noticed your men have not been ordered abroad either."
A sly smile was enough of an answer.
"Together, we will stand ready. Whatever happens."
"And there is no one I would rather have at my side to defy the end of the world," the Divine declared, standing tall. "Thank you for being here, my friend."
His plans had been delayed. His loyalty to the slave rebels, at least Grunt, had prompted the Blue Wraith to stalk in the delegation's shadow for nearly a week. Tonight, he had finally put his concerns to rest. Negotiations were going well, and the Tevinter mages were surprisingly following the lead of one 'Dorian Pavus' in showing at least begrudging respect to their former property.
With utmost caution, Fenris hoisted himself over the mansion's bordering wall and spotted two occupants standing in a warmly lit library. Sheltered by the foliage of the decorative bushes, he watched the duo grow into a seeming debate.
There she was: Lady Inara Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, leader of the dissolved Inquistion. She had failed to keep her promise. Hawke was still trapped. That only meant one thing – death to the Inquisitor.
"I heard you summoned Captain Fabria to meet you here yesterday?" the magister wondered with apparent uncertainty. "Did you really tell him that you would help him reach Solas?"
"On the condition that I can try talking to him."
"Are you mad?" the man abruptly waved, causing Inara to flinch in surprise. "Don't you realize that he'll be surrounded by minions ready to kill us all?"
"It's a risk I have to take. I'm the only one who stands a chance of ending this without bloodshed."
"His bloodshed, you mean," the man took her hand, his voice warm and protective. "Inara, I can't let you risk your life over this yet again."
"Let me?!" the elf cried, pulling away. The mage let her retreat. Her anger was neither rational nor genuine – she was terrified and desperate. "Dorian, he may be immortal, but we've backed him into a corner. He's scared."
"A scared predator. Not a scared puppy."
Both watcher and his subjects froze as the ground shook from a distant explosion. Fenris ducked down when Dorian rushed to the nearest window with wide eyes. The horizon was alight with smoke and flames from the more central section of the city.
"What is it?"
"I believe…that is the Archon's residence," was the stunned reply. After several seconds, the politician seemed to remember himself and turned sternly upon his guest. "This conversation isn't over, my sweet."
With that, Master Pavus bolted out the door, demanding his coat from an unseen servant as he disappeared. Inara remained in the library, watching the skyline briefly and wandering stiffly back to the roaring fireplace. Fenris gritted his teeth while plotting his grand entrance, yet he hesitated as another surprise was revealed.
Grimacing in anger and hand outstretched toward the coals, the woman seemed to…glow. He shook his head to clear it, confident it was the red lyrium beginning to affect his senses. But then, a shower of a green sparks exploded from the fireplace, dancing around her ankles before the fire settled back into its original place. If appearances were true, she had magic and had failed to fulfill her promised of saving Hawke.
Just as quickly as the moment began, it was over. The Herald shook her hand with a hiss of pain and exhaustedly sank into one of the nearby chairs. Now was his moment…
As Fenris drew his fist back, ready to shatter the window, destroy the person responsible for taking the woman he loved, and face whatever consequences came after, a gloved hand restrained him.
"Revenge…is not the release you seek, Blue Wraith," a motherly voice of steel chided, sending a chill down his spine. Flemeth effortlessly took hold of his tainted wrist and turned it over between her fingers. "The abyss has claimed your beloved, and it may soon consume you as well. But she is not lost to you. Shall I explain the coming world we are about to inhabit? Or would you rather spend the rest of your life regretting this idiotic plan of yours?"
