Chapter 37: Ancient Power
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls Series or the Dragon Age Series.
Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda and Dragon Age belongs to Bioware
Marcus's eyes slowly opened at a snail's pace to drips pattering beyond. Light entered and from blackness was a woman that scorned a deep dislike immediately upon view.
"Hello, Marcus. I'm glad to see that you're not dead. It'd be such a shame to report such a travesty to the Emperor."
"Nilssa, what the hell are you doing here?!" Marcus roared.
The battlemage lunged in a fury towards the Blade. A sharp tug of metal and chains strained his wrists, his neck thrusting forward as he collapsed on his knees.
"Oh... careful Marcus," Nilssa smiled. "You've just barely recovered. We wouldn't want any further restraints now, would we?"
"When I get out of these restraints Nilssa, I'll-"
"Now with that attitude, you will," Nilssa gleamed with a patronizing endeavor. "So, why don't you relax…"
Nilssa paused as a large furred hand shoved Marcus against the wall. The Battlemage looked with shock towards the large Pahmar-raht that held him in place.
"And listen," Nilssa continued, nodding towards the Khajiit to let go.
"Or this one will break you," the Khajiit added for emphasis to which Marcus scoffed.
"Sure you will, Do'jhan," Marcus glared. "Still doesn't make you a better warrior than Do'sha."
A rebuttal of a strong growl pushed to Marcus's face. The Battlemage only deepening his glare to the baring of teeth and claws precariously pressed against his cheek.
"Enough Do'jhan or you will face the Emperor's wrath should you harm him," Nilssa intervened. "Go to Karhtus and regain your disguise."
Do'jhan continued to growl as he stepped away from Marcus. But not before turning towards the Blade, towering a good foot or two over her. "While I may listen to you, remember you are not this one's superior. Do not forget that, Grandmaster," he replied slowly on the last word before leaving the room.
"Not yet," Nilssa huffed and mumbled to herself before turning back to Marcus. "Still quite a way to go with manners, don't you think? Unlike his sister..."
"What the hell is going on Nilssa?" Marcus quickly interjected, seething through his teeth. "How the fuck are you here?"
"Cleaning up your mess if we're getting to the point," Nilssa answered with a voice of contempt, taking a knee to meet his glared death stare. "This mission of yours… I don't know why the Emperor assigned such an important task to you but it was clearly a mistake. I've taken it upon myself to deliver the artifact and your mission."
Marcus grew wide-eyed, stunned as he only answered with silence. "Are you insane?" he questioned, the shackles of his arms clinking with his movements. "You're jeopardizing the entire mission over a petty grudge? When I get out of here, I'll-"
"Do nothing but return home," Nilssa declared, closing on Marcus a mere inches apart. "What are going to do, kill me? Honestly, do you really think the Emperor will let us live for killing the other, for whatever reason?"
Marcus grumbled, clicking his tongue in response as he knew what Nilssa spoke of were true.
"And that is why you will listen to me," Nilssa said as she gazed with cold intensity. "I will retrieve the artifact and then we will leave, report to the Emperor, and you can go back to being Neloth's lab assistant once again. Do we understand?"
Marcus refused to waste any energy for a reply, continuing only with a look halfway between annoyance and rage.
"Good," Nilssa replied, returning to smile and walking out towards the dungeon exit. "Now sit quietly while I finish the mission."
"Nilssa, wait!" Marcus exclaimed.
The Nord Grandmaster stopped on a dime, sighing. "Yes?" she asked without even turning to face him.
"The others," Marcus asked, "Piven, Nivia, Hawke, the rest? What happened to them?"
"They're not dead if you must know," Nilssa answered. "But to get into Vel's graces, I had to bring them here. Though Nivia… that Tevinter girl hasn't been seen. Neither has the dwarf."
"If you hurt them, so help me…"
"And what? More importantly, why do you care? They are not your friends, your allies. Nothing but tools for the mission as you are aware."
"Of course, you'd say that. But Piven and Nivia are just kids, they shouldn't even be in a situation like this."
Nilssa let out a light laugh. "If that were true, you wouldn't have brought them along. But if you're that concerned for their lives, then you'd best follow my words and sit quietly. For their sake."
The Grandmaster's laugh chuckled into silence, leaving the Imperial Battlemage to stew in anger and contemplation.
"What do you suppose Magister Vel is up to in there?"
"That is not your business to know."
"Why not? I wouldn't blab out his secrets now that we're so close? And besides, why does it matter when Tevinter will be on top again?"
"Because you're only asking to be one of Vel's new Magisters in the New Imperium."
"And what's wrong with that? Isn't that why we're all here?"
"Magister Sextus…?"
"And you should talk, 'Magister Pupienus."
"Hey, I told you that in confidence!"
"Will you two just shut up already? See... this is why we're minions standing guard out in the open. Because we have stupid conversations like this."
"We are not minions, we're warriors of the new- urgh-"
"What the hell, argh!-"
"Show yourself- hrrk!"
All fell silent with but a single shot, pooling together on the broken ruins in crimson. Three strikes in succession were just another skill Varric had practiced for years.
"How did you do that?" asked the Tevene girl named Nivia, emerging forth from the shrouded woods in tow with the master rogue dwarf.
"When you've gone into so many caves, underground mines, or even the inside of a Titan, shooting in the dark is the first thing you learn quickly, Bubbles," Varric smiled.
Nivia blushed. "B-bubbles?" she asked, holding her staff close to conceal her face.
"Well, you are shy and act sweet and innocent whenever you get excited about anything," Varric explained as he reloaded Bianca. "You know...? Bubbly."
"Am I really like that?" Nivia asked, pressing a hand against her neck.
"I could you call Kitten instead," Varric smiled before turning to a light chuckle. "Of course, it still beats being called Waffles or Tiny."
Nivia couldn't help to go along with Varric, laughing briefly with a coy smile.
"And there's that smile," Varric said.
"Okay, okay," Nivia relented, nodding her head. "I get it. You know… you're not as stuffy as the dwarves in the embassy back home."
"Yeah… dwarves are… something," Varric said, scratching his head as a sign of agreement. "Especially with the whole worshipping the Stone and Darkspawn under them, it probably wouldn't hurt for them to get out more."
"I could say the same about Magisters or any mages from Tevinter," Nivia crossed her arms.
The wave of confidence began to fade for the Tevene girl as she strolled her head over towards the ruin's entrance. Even as she tried her best to hide it, Varric had an eye for these sort of moments.
"You don't have to face him, Bubbles. Once we get Hawke and the others, we'll take him down."
"I-" Nivia responded, sighing contemptibly with resignation. "I want to- to help. I- I have to make it up for… for this. If that makes sense?"
"I've heard a lot of stories about redemption that I'd be surprised if it wasn't the reason. That or revenge," Varric said. "Suffice to say, nearly everyone who fought out of revenge is dead."
Nivia pursed her lips as the words of encouragement settled over and a pensive glare emerged towards the entrance. Her grip tightened on Marcus' staff with determination. She slowly raised her hands to her face and gave quick slaps on each side, taking aback Varric as she charged forth.
"Okay, let's-"
"Might want to lower your voice, Bubbles," Varric quickly interceded in her path.
"Oh… uh, right," Nivia whispered. "So… I guess I'll follow you then."
"Not through here," Varric said as he began to look over to the sides of the ruins. "We can't be detected, at least not until we find Hawke."
"Oh… well, in that case, we should probably go through the front door anyway," Nivia shrugged. "Magister Vel wouldn't expect that."
"Then guards here are just for show then."
"Right, to trick you," Nivia replied with rave. "Every time Vel brought us to a ruin, he'd always placed guards at the front. So intruders would always try for other entrances which he had heavily booby-trapped. I mean heavily- I almost died twice while setting them. Twice, can you imagine that?"
The Tevene girl didn't realize it until now as she looked back to Varric. The dwarf watching back, brow raised with a smile of amusement to her excited speech. It was then Nivia's cheek began to fluster in bright red as her body leaped on its own and turned away.
"Oh, I- I see what you mean," she said, tapping her fingers together. "Why- why don't we go on ahead then?" she asked for Varric to answer with a gesture of sealing his lips.
"Ahh!"
What happened? Where, where- what the hell? He couldn't move his arms or legs, they're locked in place. And they weren't breaking free, grunting under his exerted breaths. Okay then, he'd have to-
"Arghh!" He yelled, wailing at the top of his lungs.
His entire body just felt as though it lit on fire, like every single part from his skin to his insides. There was hardly anything to feel but what was a searing sting of poison, fire, and lightning overwhelming it all. Then it was released within seconds. The pain was gone but his body was still numb to the core of any feeling but the dry air on his skin.
"I would not try that again, Champion."
That voice! Vel!
Hawke didn't even need to move his head as the Magister came into his view. The coy grin underneath his soul patch and curled mustache did nothing but freak Hawke out.
"Did I frighten you, Champion?" Vel said as he continued with his high maniacal laugh. "Is the great hero of Kirkwall, who faced against Corypheus afraid of a true magister?"
Hawke was then flung up to the ceiling, stopping just short by the tip of his nose, and suddenly dropped again. His back and head cracking against the stone with such force that he nearly blacked out were not for his new Reaver abilities. But his eyes were blurred and could not see much, only sense that he was raised forward and above the ground.
"Don't blackout on me yet, Champion," Vel said. "I still have use for you and it would benefit your friends if you cooperated."
"Yeah as if I haven't heard that line before," Hawke winced, blinking to get back his vision. "Let me guess, you'll also let us live if we help you. Remind me, is that before or after you put us in a death trap and leave to hope we die?"
"Silence!" Vel said.
Tendrils of blood flew from Vel. Hawke had only a moment to react as they pierced him and removed any control of his senses. It was just like that woman Idunna's spell but… he couldn't… even… think…
"Master Vel, not yet! He is still too weak."
"Do not tell me what to do, Vesnia."
"I am merely providing you guidance Master Vel and that is why I am suggesting you stop. For the sake of achieving your dream, that man is our last hope before the Empire swallows Thedas whole. Are you willing to risk that?"
Hawke couldn't hear the rest of the conversation as his hearing droned into a spinning whine. 'Fine then' he heard, reeling his head back down to witness the blood tendrils slinking back into Vel. The Magister gave a last look of annoyance back at him and stormed off without another word.
That was... weird, Hawke thought. He had me, could have done anything but… Wait, who…?
The woman's voice he heard, was it from the one staring up at him? Wait a minute… her face, it… it looked familiar. The eyes especially reminded him of-
"I must apologize Sir Hawke but this is not how I wanted things to go," the woman said, taking a bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Vesnia Fimbria and… oh, step out of the shadows would you."
The woman waved over for a mage to step forth and again Hawke could swear familiarity. The old mage's face, the way it was shaped just reminded Hawke of… Marcus.
"And this here is my associate, Cassius Roth," Vesnia presented.
"It is an honor to meet you, Champion of Kirkwall," the man Cassius bowed. "It is unfortunate that we must meet in such a dire circumstance. Those chains are holding you well I presume?"
Oh, they were the funny mages then, huh? "No, I just like hanging here," Hawke answered with his signature wit. "Great exercise, you know, especially for the hands and legs. You should let me down and show you."
"Ha, let's not get ahead of ourselves yet… Garret," Vesnia replied and earned a grumble from Hawke. "Now let us discuss…"
Vesnia took a long pause and turned her head over the entrance. Hawke cocked his brow at the display as she looked back to the old mage and nodded.
A few quick taps of a staff to the floor and Hawke could not believe his eyes. The room completely changed away from the dark damp decayed Elvhen ruin to one pristine in glory. Merrill's description of what these places once were was nothing compared to what he saw. Golden mosaics lined golden walls, columns with intricate designs of the elvhen gods that reflected on the shiny white floor that was tinted with golden light.
But that was barely the entirety of it all that surprised Hawke as he saw… himself? Tied to a table as he grunted and yelled while the two mages tortured and healed him repeatedly.
"Quite impressive isn't it," Vesnia said, holding her palm to Hawke and he was brought to eye level. "Cassius here has worked on perfecting his illusory magic for years. One of the reasons Tevinter has managed to survive so long, isn't it?"
"Quite," Cassius nodded as he turned towards Hawke. "Rampaging Qunari tend to stay away when their forces are outnumbered 15 to 1. And of course, reduce the bloodshed on both sides."
"Ah yes, the pacifist within you," Vesnia sighed with relief. "If only more of our countrymen held the same views…"
Maker, this was boring. And now they were droning Hawke out of the conversation.
"Ah..." Hawke coughed as foolishly loud as he could. "Not to be rude but- actually, no. What the hell is going on? You both are talking as if your-"
"Members of the Lucerni, correct," Vesnia interceded with a smile. "We're sorry for the late arrival but Maevaris and the rest of the Lucerni became concerned when you didn't report for a while."
"Well, I don't think a few days should worry-"
"Weeks."
"Right, weeks shouldn't- Weeks!" Hawke exclaimed.
"More like a month and a half actually," Vesnia said though Hawke barely heard more as his mind swirled with his emotions.
It couldn't be a month, that's too long of a time… but enough for Vel. Then that means-
"Sir Hawke," Cassius grabbed on his shoulders, rearing Hawke to face towards the old man's caring look. "It's alright, you don't need to panic. There is still some time left."
"But not for long unless we act," Vesnia added. "That's why we can only explain to you briefly as to what's happening in Thedas."
Hawke's eyes briefly widened up. "What's happened then?" he asked, concern for his sister leering in the back of his mind.
Vesnia sighed, looking down. "Not well," she slowly shook her head. "We haven't heard much since we infiltrated Vel's group here but enough to know the Empire is almost complete in their victory. Last we heard, the Empire was advancing on Val Royeaux."
"And the Inquisition? Or the rest of Thedas?" Hawke asked pertinently.
"There… hasn't been much word," Vesnia answered. "I can only assume what you'll deduce… that Orlais has fallen and most likely the Inquisition."
"Which leaves Tevinter our last hope," Hawke lowered in a sigh.
"It's not all bad, however," Cassius chimed in. "We also heard the Hero of Ferelden had some success and the Qunari ceased fighting against Tevinter. Of course, whether they'll help Thedas is another question entirely."
Great, just… great. "Shit," was all he could muster to say on the situation.
All their effort was a waste then. It was over for Thedas. But not yet for him and his friends.
"Alright get me out of these chains," Hawke said, wrangling his arms.
"That's… that's not a good idea," Vesnia replied.
"What do you mean 'not a good idea'?" Hawke asked. "We have the element of surprise. We can rescue my friends and get out of here."
"It's not that simple, Sir Hawke," Cassius said.
"Yes, it is!" Hawke replied. Now, these two were pissing him off, and saying sorry just made him angrier, gritting his teeth on display. "Now let me out of here and-"
"Your friends will die the second you leave this room!"
"W-what!?" Hawke questioned.
Vesnia pulled out a small mirror for Hawke to see what she meant. A purple mark of some design etched on his neck.
"A mark placed by Vel to compel his victims' blood vessels," Vesnia said. "It tracks, controls, and is capable of killing you within seconds. Yours will activate the second you step out of this room, killing you and your friends."
"Well, that's just splendid, isn't it," Hawke said. A spark then lit in his head as he turned to Vesnia with doubt. "Wait, how do you know that? Did you read his diary?"
"He was loudly exclaiming it to all his men amid his rants of how he's the greatest Magister to ever walk this earth," she replied with a cross of her arms. "But this is not something to jest about."
"I know blood mages are dangerous if that's what you mean," Hawke answered back, not needing a reminder again considering all he's been through.
"It's not just that, it's…" Cassius held his lips, pensively staring to the ground. "This is not something he was capable of doing but in the last week or so."
"He could have been hiding it," Hawke suggested as Cassius shook his head.
"You don't understand, this mark he's placed you on is completely undetectable unless Vel permits you. That's why we can see it and why you can as well; as a warning. If he had this ability all along, he could have easily put the entire Magisterium under his control. No, it's… it's something else and it's getting worse."
It was then Hawke realized what the mage was alluding to. But his mouth acted before his head, "The Fea-". What, no. He shouldn't risk telling others about the artifact, it was dangerous if these two knew.
"The Fea Opus, we know," Vesnia said. "You don't have to keep it a secret. And yes, Vel told us amid his rants."
Dammit. So much for secrecy then. "Okay, so you know then how dangerous it is," Hawke replied. "And from the way you talk, you sound as if you have Vel's trust."
"For the most part," Vesnia said as she and Cassius nodded.
"Then why not bring him over here and get the drop on him? Your illusions look like they could work," Hawke cocked his head to the illusion that still churned him a bit to see himself tortured.
"Because he is not an idiot," Vesnia said, turning to Cassius to continue.
"My illusions, while lifelike, are not perfect replacements for living beings," Cassius explained. "From a distance, he'll see us torturing you and move on. But were he to get close and attempt to use blood magic on your illusion double, he'd know something is wrong. Which is why we must speak with you quickly."
"We have a plan which we must enact in a few hours if we are to succeed," Vesnia said, speaking softly than before. "And we couldn't tell you earlier because of the mark Vel has placed."
"Alright," Hawke raised his hands as much as he could, chained. "So what's your plan then?"
"A quick strike," Vesnia said. "One that will utilize Vel's own obsession with the book to our advantage. And together, we'll take him down before he has a chance to gain access to the book."
"I'll do it if it means we take Vel down."
A coy smile took form on Vesnia's lips, slightly bewildering Hawke as he pressed his head back. What did he just agree to?
"How is your acting, Hawke?"
"Dammit!"
It was the fifth attempt Marcus made to break free of these shackles and just as before, he failed. With no progress even as the shackles held the same snugness over his wrists that now bruised and even bled a little.
"Real big of a mess you've gotten into yourself, huh Marcus?"
The Battlemage didn't want to sound crazy talking to himself but honestly, what else was he to do?
"And Nilssa of all fucking people had to show up, didn't she?"
Marcus lamented with a sigh, pressing his head up against the wall. What now, he thought? He could not just sit here and wait for Nilssa. Her pettiness will not only cause the mission to fail but befall great harm not just on Thedas but to the Empire and perhaps Tamriel as well.
"What I wouldn't give for Selene to come out randomly and help," Marcus grunted as he pulled on his magicka draining bracelets. "Akatosh, Magnus, Stendarr, Talos. Give… me… strength."
Marcus pulled all he could muster all his own physical strength, his arms straining as he felt the veins bulge. "Come… on…" he grunted. "Ah!"
A loud thud boomed behind the battlemage and flung him to the floor, crashing face first. "Ow," he sarcastically exclaimed, rubbing his nose and cheeks. "What the…"
The braces were still clamped over his wrists. The chains on them still attached as Marcus eyes' followed along to the wall. Caved in forward with the old elven walls of marble crumbled off to reveal stone bricks. And even stranger as Marcus approached and gently pressed his hands against them. They were… warm and… a moaning sound.
The hairs on Marcus's arms stood and the battlemage rolled back. The wall burst opened a hole and a man's charred head through.
"Great…" Marcus muttered.
The battlemage scoured the room for a place to hide, knowing he stood no chance of fighting with the chains still connected to his wrist restraints. All he could do was curse under his breath as he picked up the chains in a ball, looking for anything to use to his advantage against whatever was out there. His eyes shot open in the dark and he saw it. Waddling over, trying to keep the chains from rumbling further, he hid in a crevice by the door.
Just in time as well as the sound of heavy footsteps began to approach in his ear. They were slow, raising Marcus's heartbeat. The battlemage raised his ball of chain above, careful not to make a sound. His arms were held steady, ready to drop at a moment's notice. His eyes trained on the door, for that bit of feet to enter in his view and signal the attack.
"Ha!" The Battlemage couldn't help but exclaim, tumbling to the ground with his chain ball on the enemy. The enemy that was… short? "Varric!?"
"Uh… hey… Fireboy," Varric grunted under the strain. "You mind uh… getting off me? You're collapsing on my lungs."
"Varric, what are you- Woah!"
Marcus toppled off Varric as a streak of ice blasted past his face. Chains untangled and tangled like a string around his arms, pinning him in a mess over Varric.
"Could you not try to rip my legs off," Varric said as Marcus wiggled back as forcefully as he could, trying to save both their lives from the hidden attacker.
"Stop!" A voice reached out from beyond the door as a shard of ice stabbed the ground, nearly impaling Marcus.
The battlemage quickly held up his hands… as much as he could. "Okay, alright… don't- wait..."
The crackle of ice condensed on the tip of a staff approached close to Marcus' face, masking the assailant's face until it edged a few centimeters from his face.
"Nivia!"
"Marcus!"
"What are you doing here?!" The two exclaimed.
"Arms starting to lose feeling here," Varric raised.
"Oh, Varric, I… sorry," Marcus said, "Let me…"
"No, not that way…"
"Oh gosh, you're all tangled up…" Nivia interceded.
"Ah… Nivia, that's not how-"
"I- I got it, I got it-"
"Now Bianca's all tangled up-"
"Nivia's, why's my staff tangled in here?"
"Oh, now it's stuck the other way…"
After several minutes of the tangled mess of shenanigans and a pouting Varric adding another thing he hated to the list, the three comrades were freed.
"Aaannd… there!" Nivia exclaimed as she used Marcus' staff to cut the magical restraints. "It's really neat that your staff can cut things like a saw. How does it do it?"
"Well," Marcus inhaled as he rotated his wrists. "It's too long of an explanation but suffice to say, I'm… well surprised. That's not really something many mages could do even after years of training."
"R-really?" Nivia glowed with a gleam of a smile and a tiny blush.
"Definitely," Marcus nodded. "You have a talent, Nivia, you really do. Of the many mages I've met, I think you're the best."
The Tevene girl's cheeks burned a bright red, almost glowing to Marcus as he cocked his head with perplexity.
"I think your praises might have been too much for her, Fireboy," Varric whispered.
To which Marcus hadn't noticed until now as he looked back at the girl, hiding her face into his staff while holding her hands to her cheeks.
Marcus sighed, both anger and pride in the back of his mind. At how Vel treated her to think low of herself despite her talent.
"Hey, there's no need to be like that," Marcus said. The battlemage patted her shoulder as he looked firmly towards her. "You're doing great. You're here in Vel's base and helped free me. The Nivia I first met wouldn't have done any of that."
"The Nivia you met still had a career," she smiled weakly.
"You don't have to be a magister to be a great mage," Marcus replied, cheering in his voice as he grabbed his staff. "I'm sure you'll find a way."
"How?"
"Well, you do know a certain Viscount of Kirkwall," Marcus said, turning to Varric with a nod.
"Ex-viscount probably," Varric commented through his resetting of Bianca. "Though to be honest, I was planning on quitting. I did a lot more to help people in Kirkwall as a rogue than a politician. Maybe something to consider Bubbles?"
"Bubbles?" Marcus questioned, looking back to Nivia as the girl hid her face away towards the corner. "In any case, we should get back to it and take Vel down. Do guys know where they're holding the others?"
"We were hoping you knew," Varric crossed with his arms. "It was pure luck we found you. Bubbles is the reason we haven't run into any traps."
"Though we haven't avoided the guards," Nivia said.
Marcus rolled his eyes. The charred guard had now cooled, leaving a hardened hole in the wall and black glaze over the stones that laid on the man. But one guard? Was Do'jhan not guarding the entrance? Was this Nilssa's plan?
"Marcus?"
The Imperial battlemage's body shook himself from his thoughts back to reality. "Sorry, I was just… thinking," he answered back.
He had to focus much more, not let slip loose the secret. They'd have to work fast. Not just against Vel but Nilssa too. Ah… but with Do'jhan around, it'd be impossible. Unless…
"Got a plan in mind?" Varric asked.
"Wondering," Marcus said, stroking his chin. "Vel has… some more muscle here. Really powerful people from the looks I caught. They'll be too much handle, especially if they're with Vel."
"Can't we rescue the others and take them on together?" Nivia asked.
Marcus vehemently shook his head. "There's a good chance he might have them close by, ready to kill them the second we're spotted. And it's probably where he has all his guards?"
Nivia nodded. "He always is super cautious about that sort of thing. He even killed his slaves one time because of a noise he heard. It was… a bat."
"Shit, Nivia," Varric exclaimed with Marcus agreeing internally as he shook his head. "Guess our original plan of busting in is out the window."
Marcus stomped his foot. If only he had his bag with him, the last of his muffle and invisibility would have helped. Dammit, they were too blind. If only…
They are tools, nothing more.
Yes, maybe- no! No! What was he thinking? Just, stop, stop it! He wouldn't stoop down to her level, not ever. Even if it meant completing the mission, there… there had to be another way that didn't require him to abandon his empathy, his moral compass. His mind was trapped.
Trapped? Marcus thought on as he rubbed his temple. Trapped? Traps?!
"Varric!"
The battlemage held his hands over his mouth, embarrassed at how quickly he spoke and startled the two companions. "Woah, Fireboy. What's with the sudden jump? I already dislike elven ruins, rather not add it to the list."
"Sorry but… I just had an idea to save the others," Marcus said. "And it won't matter if Vel has them on a kill switch or not."
"Is it some spell you know of?" Nivia asked with intrigue, dropping her low down mood.
"In a way," Marcus laughed a bit as he thought of a way to ask of it. "I will need all of your traps, Varric, in order to make it work."
"As long as you know what you're doing," Varric raised his arms to shrug. "Hell, if this works, I'll let you use Bianca."
"Want to bet? Marcus lit at the excitement of the automatic crossbow.
"Eh… no," he said as the battlemage slumped in disappointment. "So, Fireboy, what's this plan of yours?" Varric asked as he and Nivia listened in.
His eyes opened slowly, letting a lighter dark light fill his view. The crackle of a fire lit on the walls and a buzz surrounding him, vibrating against the drums of his ears. Then it blared like a horn, rousing every sense.
"What the hell!" He yelled, shaking his head side to side to rid of the pain when a warmth fell upon his temple.
"Sto- p!? Oh, it's… it's you. M- my apologies, Dirthamen."
The Elvhen god of knowledge and secrets let out a small smile on his ethereal body of green mist, nodding to the young Dalish. Piven hadn't noticed since the Fade but he just realized how similar he looked to him. Like looking through a mirror.
"I'll admit that's one of the reasons I took a liking to you, young Piven," Dirthamen said. "You remind me of myself when I was young eons ago. And… a part of me sees that hopeful vigor to do good in search of knowledge to share with others."
"I-"
"There's no need to thank me, child, for stating the obvious. Besides, I believe there are more important matters that require your attention."
"Oh, I-" Piven's limbs and body shook and vibrated to no avail. "Wh- what, what happened? I remember fighting with Merrill and Fenris then… nothing."
"Not nothing, young child. It was the Empire that did this. They ambushed you and the others and turned you over to Vel."
"What?" Piven exclaimed.
The young elf began to struggle with his arms, trying to break from his binds. "No, no, no. I won't be a prisoner, not again. Not-"
A clink of a snap and the young Dalish fell to the floor. He groaned, his hand rubbing away the grogginess. Then he froze as he began to pay attention to what he laid on. It was weirdly shaped and had… fingers? With a turn of his head and a split moment of recognition, Piven jumped away in a frantic as he yelled. Panting so fast, he could barely think until the moment passed. He closed his eyes, hoping it to be a dream. But a soft touch to the shoulder from Dirthamen only confirmed the worst.
"Fenris."
The elvhen freedom fighter, who freed slaves from Tevinter to Ferelden and everywhere between, was dead at Piven's feet. Left to rot in a ruin, head completely turned the other way. His eyes still full of shock, frozen from the moment of death.
"I am sorry, Piven," Dirthamen said, "but these agents of the Empire were ruthless. Careless, to leave one of ours to rot within a place that should be home."
"Weeks?" Piven muttered.
"I am sorry you had to learn this way but it is the truth," Dirthamen lowered to face Piven, eye to eye with a solemn look. "You and your companions have been held for weeks by Vel, through the support of the Empire's agents. Thanks to the one known as Marcus."
A huge drop fell in Piven at Dirthamen's last word, creeping in his throat. Marcus's countrymen… his people, how could they do this? To Fenris, to the others, to… to him? It… it just didn't make sense.
"I know this is difficult to process, my young child. My brethren and I felt the same after Fen'harel's betrayal. That's why I am here. To guide you, all of us."
The aspect of Dirthamen poked to Piven's chest, leaving a soft glow. A ray of light then filled Piven, washing his mind over to another place. That's what he could tell seeing himself unconscious on the ground as it clicked. It was as before, in Carastes.
"So, what way say you, Fenris?"
His vision turned to a tall woman with blond hair who spoke to Fenris, held in place by a giant cat man. And a mage nearby that looked as if he were from the same place as Marcus.
"Fuck off," Fenris said. "I'm not going to work for an Empire that allows blood magic and mages to do whatever they want. Tevinter is evil, that much I know. But freeing every mage will enslave everyone. It doesn't matter how pretty you make it sound."
"Sticking to your beliefs then," the woman said with a creep of a smile. "I can respect that. A pity it's the wrong one but nonetheless, worthy of respect."
A heart-wrenching pulse exploded from Piven as the large cat man twisted Fenris's head around. He screamed for his name but all he could do was watch as Fenris coughed a final spout of blood before collapsing.
"Shame," the woman sighed, "He would have been useful to the Emperor."
"Useful as Marcus, Grandmaster?" the mage sneered.
"As he can be," she responded before glaring down to Piven. "Though I don't know why he brought this Dalish here or the girl. His lies will cost us dearly."
"Then perhaps they should be dealt with by our 'friendly Magister'," the mage said.
"Should it come to that. But as long as Marcus did not spin such a cavalcade of lies, we'll be fine. If not…"
"This one will have witnessed an unfortunate accident," the cat man smiled, his fangs baring in blood.
"Then there is no need to worry," the woman said. "Now then, Karhatus, if you would."
If Piven could feel his jaw, it would have dropped completely off. Magic swirled and wrapped around the three to transform them all into different people. The cat man was now a large human in armor and the other two into magisters.
"Excellent," the transformed woman said, walking off at a slow pace. "Now to bring our guests."
Fade to black and a flash of light, Piven was reeled back by the taste of dry air. Breaths slowly easing as he tried to make sense of the vision.
"It's not your fault," Dirthamen motioned, holding both of Piven's shoulders. Suspense replaced the breaths in the young Dalish. The god of knowledge, now intense with his eyes. "No matter where they're from, humans lie and deceive. Yet do not let that dissuade you. You are the hope of our people, the one to return us to greatness. Never lose sight of that, no matter the cost. You understand, don't you?"
Piven nodded in silence, still too shocked to express words. Yet he understood, for all his life was nothing but a struggle. For his family, for his clan, for his people, for… for Laya. That's why he was here, to help them. Why he joined Marcus and…
"Am I that naive?"
Of course, he was. One human did something nice for him and all of a sudden, he trusts him. All the talk about helping him and his clan. Lies to let down his guard, he should have known.
"Alas, the human mind is not something even I can comprehend," Dirthamen answered. "Take this as a lesson to grow and learn from. And more importantly, to take advantage of."
Piven perked up. "What do you mean?"
"You have been paying attention, haven't you?"
Piven drew blanks on his face. He nodded and grinned so as to not look stupid but the ire of Dirthamen's brow made sweat profusely fall over his face. The Elvhen god sighed, resting his fingers over his face as he spoke.
"Use the knowledge you have about Marcus in order to achieve your mission. You remember your mission, correct?" Dirthamen held out his palm to several magical images of tiny elven statues. Piven eagerly nodded. "Well, it just so happens that all the remaining pieces are here."
"They are!?" Piven exclaimed. "H-how? And isn't that super convenient they're all here?"
"Destiny finds its way, young Piven and it has found itself here. Are you going to question it or do what needs to be done?"
The Elven god's question gave Piven a brief pause, processing what he just learned. "No," he said, rising fervently. "No, I'm… I'm done being lied to and trusting humans. I… I want to do what's right for our people Dirthamen. And if that means listening to destiny, then I'll follow along."
"I know this is not how you expected things to turn out but it is for the best that you know your suspicions of humans were correct. Remember, Marcus, betrayed you first so don't feel any remorse for him. It's you and me against them all."
"For our people?"
"For our people," Dirthamen nodded. "But for now…"
A poke to the temple was the last Piven saw, everything collapsing into darkness. The last of his hearing was his body hitting with a thud and Dirthamen.
"Sleep and awaken when the time is right."
"Ah! Dammit!"
Another and another, shockwaves of energy burst out from Vel. The walls cracked nearly beyond repair, the floor now showcasing the dirt underneath, and dust filling into lungs. Yet no complaints were heard from his men as breathing was the last thing many worried about. Whereas being crushed to death could happen at any moment.
"What are you all standing around for? I'm trying to concentrate and these constant distractions are further interrupting me."
The room rumbled again, spilling even more stone. Rubble fell, crushing a man as his scream was trounced beneath a ray of moonlight shining from the outside.
"And do your jobs or we'll all be crushed!"
Vel's mages further put out their power, pushing back on the ceiling as others pushed blocks of stone back in. Desperately they worked until one tossed their stone.
"Enough, you crazy bastard!" the man yelled. The whole room froze, terror struck on the others as they watched the mercenary speak out. "This promise of power has done nothing but get us killed so far. It'll be two months and he's nowhere closer than before. He's- he's- t-t-t"
The mercenary stuttered, cutting off into an erratic head shake. Gasps set on the others as they backed away from the man reaching out to them. Blood began to pour from his nose and eyes. He screamed, holding his head as an eye popped from his socket.
Crimson exploded, painting the men's faces as pieces of brain matter fell. They could hardly shy away from the fountain of blood sprouting from the stem. Vomit puked forth, gazes still stuck on the pieces of teeth, tongue, and brain mushed together by the body.
Eyes slowly turned to Vel. A cold, unmoving void of silence washed their souls of the magister and without hesitation, they resumed with double their previous speed.
"Idiots," Vel sighed, taking the Fea Opus in hand. "This room will be repaired the moment I return. Make sure it's clean as well."
The magister rumbled under his breath, stewing with frustration. "Idiots, the lot of them," he ranted as he turned to his quarters. "Where is my tea?"
"Right here, master," a slave said.
"Blegh," Vel spat on the slave. "Are you so incapable of such a simple task of making tea?!"
He grabbed the elf slave with his bloody tendrils of magic, spiked wraps around the neck piercing ever so lightly. Then the arms and legs were restrained, leaving the slave choked of any words.
"If I wasn't such a generous person, you'd be nothing but more fuel for my ascendance," Vel snapped, holding the slave's face within his hand. Gasping for air, the slave choked and writhed as blood seeped from her neck. Yet despite it all, the slave returned with matching anger with burning fury in her eyes.
"Are you serious?" Vel laughed with a manic roar. "At a time like this?"
Blood ejected from the slave's mouth, her body shriveling at a rapid pace. "You're just food," Vel smiled menacingly.
Draining every drop he could and a tendril shot straight to the door.
"Magister Vel-"
"What?!" he shot back. "Oh, it's you."
Vesnia, the defector from the Lucerni, nodded silently as she stood by the impaled blood tendril in the wall. "I'm sorry to disturb your… activity but-"
"Make it quick," Vel sneered, gritting his teeth to the veins engorging on the slave.
"Hawke has agreed to your demands."
Tendrils dispersed immediately, plopping the barely alive slave down. "What?" Vel demanded an answer, blasting his menacing glare near to Vesnia's face.
"I said…"
"My ears work fine for your information. Why now of all timing? Were you hoping to save this slave?"
"That shriveled up thing?" Vesnia glanced over. "No, I simply best to inform you now-"
"DON'T LIE TO ME!"
His voice bellowed in her face. Gigantic arms of muscle and blood exploded over Vel's, breaking into the stone behind. Whatever showing of cleanliness and prestige he possessed disappeared beneath sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes. Veins flowed over his cheeks and scalp, exposing patches of muscle and tissue.
"Magister Vel," Vesnia said calmly, unmoved.
"What..." he growled as if in a rasp of a voice.
"Your face," she stated plainly.
Within seconds, the magister raised his arm and widened to the gigantic mass. "I…" he heaved, rolling his arm over his head. The blood slowly receded back, returning the man to a mostly normal look with scars and cuts to boot as he breathed. "My apologies, Vesnia but your news was most suspicious. Hawke wakes and he concedes to my demands without even a fight."
"All I merely did was present the options before him and he made his choice."
"And what options would those be?"
"That it's pointless. I told him of how the Thedosian Alliance has failed and the Empire is only moments away from conquering Thedas. And between you, the Empire, and the Qunari, he decided the lesser of the evils."
Vel merely frowned at her response, silent at her emotionless demeanor. Then he grinned with a small chuckle. "So pragmatic, aren't you? And the Lucerni never appreciated your skills? Or is that before you came to spy on me?"
Vel's eyes narrowed on Vesnia. But the mage didn't show any sign of weakness.
"Even if they did," Vesnia said, keeping at her same pace, "what would be the point? You are far too powerful to stop and very much close to unlocking the Fea Opus's power. You'll be unstoppable."
"And so you work for me out of fear for your life," Vel replied with an incredulous look. Vesnia stayed silent and unmoved. "Huh… out of all these idiots, you might be the only one that's smart."
Vesnia nodded her head lightly as she stepped out of the way. Behind she followed the magister as they made their way back to the ritual room.
"Cassius," Vesnia snapped on command, bringing her companion immediately out from one of the several rooms.
"Vesnia," Cassius nodded.
"Have everyone assembled for the ritual. It's time for Magister Vel's ascension," Vesnia relayed as the two exchanged a small wince.
All parties soon gathered back into the ritual room, repaired back into a respectable state. Semi-respectable judging from the look Magister Vel gave to his men at their shifting and small demeanor. His attention quickly shifted as his prize levitated into the room.
"Our hero has arrived!" Vel announced with his arms open wide, pleasantness radiating his voice. "Just in time to witness the greatest feat to ever be held in this world. The rebirth of a new Tevinter Empire… an Eternal Empire for humanity!"
The magister stood for several seconds, awaiting appraisal. Clenching his jaw, he monstrously unleashed his tendrils and received roars of cheers and jeering all around.
"Really?" Hawke let out a snort.
"Mock all you want, Champion but rest assured once I've completed my ascension, all will praise me of their own will. From you will be delivered the fruit of my-"
"They could be your loins for all I care," Hawke replied vigorously of contempt, "I'm not doing this because I trust you or some reason like that. Where are my friends? Where's Merrill and Varric?"
"Oh, yes… that," the magister grinned as he proceeded to snap.
The floor rumbled and several spots slid open into large rectangular holes. Out from them, slowly rose-up slabs of marble attached with those of Hawke's friends in chains. Merrill and Piven, along with a few Inquisition agents.
"Well, here they are," Vel presented. "Now then, as to your agreement…"
Hawke said nothing, looking past the man as his pupils shifted side to side.
"Where?" Hawke whispered.
"Where-" Vel began to answer when Hawke leaped forward.
"Where's Varric? Fenris and the others?" The Champion demanded, throwing his arms as the chains broke.
Without hesitation, Vel activated his trap. Hawke froze in place, screaming a blood-curdling cry of agony as the chains tightened him back again. The pain subsided then as it came, leaving Hawke a burning mess of heavy pants and saliva dripping forth.
"Now look what you've made me do," Vel shook his head. "You should be careful about allowing your anger to overpower. I can't ascend if I have to kill you and your friends. And I'm sure you don't want that for your friends. Your girlfriend especially."
"Touch her and there won't be anything left of you when I'm done," Hawke declared, receiving a low punch to the stomach.
"Thank you, Vesnia," Vel said as he turned away back to the stairs.
Vesnia nodded, bringing Hawke forward along. "Don't worry, Hawke," she whispered. "The others weren't captured and he knows nothing. Focus on the plan."
Hawke could merely groan in response before turning his attention up to Vel. The magister again presented, showcasing the reason for his fuss.
A whole section of the room that shined brightly like a beacon on a hill. The walls were painted and shined just as the day they were made. Yet what was intriguing was the tale it portrayed. Seven elves garbed in royal attire and armor, reaching out towards the altar that stood before the wall. To the mercenaries and slaves below, they paid no mind to it. But to everyone else, there was a faint whisper calling forth. As if from the beyond.
"What is this?" Hawke asked, his gaze unable to fully see it all from his restraints.
"An ancient power," Vel explained as he strolled to the altar. "Locked millennia ago by the elves because they felt it too powerful for anyone to use. The power of life and death was in their hands and yet they locked it away. But with your blood, I can finally free it and control the very essence of being. The Fea Opus is salvation."
"Fea… Opus," Hawke replied, dread escaping forth from his lips.
Vel smiled with his teeth, acknowledging the Champion's fear; He watched as Vel pulled an orb from a box, keeping the Champion in dismay.
"You remember this, don't you?" Vel snided, presenting the orb. The same one that looked exactly like the one wielded by Corypheus.
And like the one before, it swelled in the eerie red glow of energy though one of blood than crackling lightning. There was no time for even a quip as Hawke convulsed erratically to the energy piercing into him.
"Don't struggle too much, Champion," Vel quipped with a villainous grin before snapping his fingers. "The slaves, bring the slaves here."
A huddled mass of tears and cries were escorted up. The elves jumped and twitched. The slurping of the blood from Hawke clammed them into messes of terror.
"Yes!" Vel hollered as he held the orb high.
Clasping with both hands, its energy left Hawke and melded over the orb. Its slimy textured bubbled and popped, fuming with a red mist that scattered the steps. The slaves could only tremble as they huddled close to what would soon happen.
A torrent of red goo hosed onto the slaves, coating them all in the same slimy substance. For a moment, all were confused and glancing back to the Magister for a reason for the jam-like coating.
He said no words, grinning with delight to what soon unveiled. The men around all jumped back as smoke began to emit from the slime. The slaves began to pant and crawl on the floor when they screeched. The red slime was consuming them, eating their flesh and bones. Their screams were so intense that even the men were horrified. Their bodies turned into mush and became the red slime itself.
"No," was all Hawke could let out to witness the red slime move back into the orb.
The maniacal laugh of Vel radiated through the room, the glory of Tevinter exhumed from his aura. That and the blood slime that began to spread halfway down his arm.
"Vel, you're-"
"I don't care," Vel turned, inviting gasps among everyone to the horns growing on his head. "This power... is mine!"
The magister's voice bellowed with exuberant force, cracking the room again. The men dazed in fear, falling to their feet and down the stairs. All the while Vel's laugh increased with ever more intensity. The laughs continued as he left for the altar, reaching with the orb. But he stopped.
For a moment, silence. Eyes darted amongst the men and Hawke exchanged a worried glance to Vesnia and Cassius as they glared ahead.
Vel let out an explosive roar, firing a straight beam of energy from the orb right down the stairs. A small cloud of dust exploded in the hall, leaving debris of stone and dirt to pave the way.
"Finally, you've arrived," Vel announced, strutting forward. "And you've managed to avoid my attack unharmed. Your reputation does live up to its name, Marcus Ebiri."
Hawke's eyes widened in recognition. "Marcus…" he said, trying to catch a view.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Vel," Marcus's voice called from the hall. "Just like you don't know what you're doing with that orb."
"I am perfectly aware of what this is," Vel declared, displaying forth blood tendrils like an octopus. "Just as you're aware what will happen if you even try to attack me."
The tendrils writhed close to those still hung on the stone slabs, ready to pierce into their heads at moment's notice while an eerily pinkish glow emanated from their necks.
An audible sigh groaned from Marcus. "And I thought you were one of the smart ones."
The battlemage stepped through the room entrance and all pretense of leverage dropped like a stone. And even Vel of all people locked up along with his tendrils. "Wh- what are you doing?!" he demanded.
"What? What's happening?" Hawke asked, then turned to see. "Shit, what the hell Marcus?!"
Hell couldn't even describe clearly the Battlemage's plan as he held the same orb as Vel did. However, unlike the blood that covered the Magister's, Marcus's crackled with green lightning and shook erratically.
"So then, Vel… what'll it be?"