PROLOG
Tevinter Imperium: Vol Dorma
Cautiously entering the large sitting room of Castle Roma, Jibsin Mossdale bowed deeply. Summoned by his master, the elderly wood-elf moved slowly across the lavished chamber furnished with the finest artwork, tapestries and décor. Approaching his lord, who entertained a small group of guest sitting throughout the chamber; the aging slave offered the black parchment held in his trembling hands.
"Is that news from Orlais," one of the guest inquired, a fat well-dressed merchant eating nuts and dried grapes. The man sitting on a large plush round chair positioned at the center of the room. "What say you of our brother? Are the rumors true; has he fallen?"
"You speak as if his death was some noble endeavor and not the act of a fool," a much slimmer businessman, equally attired, interrupted. The delicate man drawing closer to Jibsin's master with the use of a crimson cane; followed closely by two white mabari pups. "Was the nature of Ser Donavan's plot discovered? Has the Chantry and their accursed Divine become aware of our dealings in Thedas?"
"Please, allow me a moment," Jibsin's Master, Tiberius Phalsian said, the Tevinter Magister whispering an incantation as he unsealed the scroll. The spell recited over the black document causing the room to darken as several candles flickered and died.
With the sound of a quill being put to paper, words began to rise from the empty page and glow red as they floated upward for all to see. The ancient elvish script circling the room slowly before growing as if written by some unseen hand in midair. Seemingly, birth from beyond the fade itself, countless in number, paragraphs filled the chamber above them. Lowering his eyes as he looked away, Jibsin awaited his dismissal silently, fearfully. The elderly elf feeling the words as they somehow spoke to him.
"Slain by a child...surely, this so-called Knight of the Vanguard, was not worthy to walk among us," a third guest; a muscular dark elf dressed in a sleeveless Tevinter summoning robe said. "It would seem the young knight did us a favor in dispatching him."
"That is of little concern," Lord Tiberius said, pointing to another paragraph. "Our master requires that the Chantry and all its allies remain unaware of our affairs. We are too few to oppose them directly now, but our time draws near. The arrogance and bravado of Ser Donavan, as well as the impotence of his actions, compromises us all. We'll be forced to terminate our initial plans and alter our timetable…"
"Perhaps, but his death needn't be in vain," the obese merchant said sipping wine. "Although his victory would have discredited and tarnished the integrity of the Divine's great contest; the death of the young knight, Ser Pentaghast, still provides us with a rare opportunity. Given the fame of his aunt and the manner of his victory in the games, surely all the noble houses of Thedas will wish to honor him."
Turning to address the beautiful woman clad in red; who sat studying Jibsin from across the room, "Yes, such a distraction may prove useful in masking our movements throughout the lower territories," Lord Tiberius said. "Milady, why so quiet? Have you nothing to add?"
"If your slave can read ancient Dalish; he should die."
Chapter 2: "No Fault of Your Own"
The Frostback Mountains: New Haven
Feeling the chill of night just before the dawning of a new day, High Lord Seeker, Cassandra Pentaghast, sought the warmth of her cloak. Latching the garment and concealing herself beneath its hood, she swiftly made her way toward the stables of New Haven. The small secluded village hidden away beneath the foothills of the Frostback Mountain Range near Lake Justinia. Moving along the cobblestone streets under a cover of fleeting darkness, the revered elder-knight sought the shadows hidden from the glow of cottages, inns and shops. Each lantern hung over doorpost and on light poles casting misshapen shadows onto the streets and surrounding buildings along the main walkways. In the distance, nocturnal creatures sang far above the valley floor; the breaking of the day over New Haven promising to be well suited for travel.
Like a den of waking fennce foxes, those that occupied the sleeping settlement would soon flood its streets with unimaginable clamor as they began their day. The commerce of business and labor spreading throughout the village setting everyone to their task with the ringing of morning bells. The great chimes reverberating off the surrounding mountains; reassuring each man, woman and child placed reverently under the protection of the Chantry and its, Seekers of Truth, all was well. A holy order, the Chantry was burdened with the responsibility of guarding and uphold the highest principals of Andraste as it gave purpose and direction. Their seekers, sworn knights of the order, acting as the embodiment of the Maker's judgment; chosen to protect all those that served Him. Yet, sneaking passed several patrolling guards as she made her way beyond a row of bakeries, blacksmith shops and apothecaries; Cassandra felt more the thief and less the leader of such a holy brotherhood.
Arriving at the back of the stables, squeezing through loosen planks dislodged weeks in advance, she sought to saddle her horse. Calming the black, Imperial Warmblood, she gently tugged its breaded mane. Whispering into its ear, persuading the animal all was well, Casandra knelt to recover its saddle hidden beneath the hay in the corner of its pen.
Reaching deep into the mound as she searched, "You won't find it there," a voice spoke out of the darkness. "I removed it yesterday and hid it elsewhere."
"Then you would do well to return it to me," Cassandra whispered, drawing her sword.
Stepping closer, "That I…will not do, High Lord Seeker," the voice said defiantly.
Like a star being born in darkness, a small pinprick of light grew. The illumination from the small white orb less than that of a single candle; its intensity becoming slightly greater as it gave way to the tall figure holding it in the palm of his hand. Looking toward the entrance of the stable, hearing the guards discussing the pleasure of women, battle and ale Cassandra sheath her sword.
"Callum, dim the light," she ordered as her eyes adjusted to the glow. "Why have you come here? Did Seeker Armmon send you to spoil my plans? I thought him beyond his years, and still the man remains as cunning as ever. Tell me, do my guards; do they know, I've left their charge?"
"No," Callum said increasing the glow of the orb. "But, it would be easy enough to make them conscious of your deception. So, tell me; what are your plans, milady?"
Seeing Callum's face clearly for the first time in the light, Cassandra became aware of how much the boy had grown. After their return from the games and Tristan's great burial ceremony in Val Royeaux nearly two years past, she had scarcely laid eyes on the elfish boy. Consumed by her own grief and despair, she decided to keep herself from everyone outside the inner circle of the order, even refusing the company of her dearest friends. Likewise, sequestrated into the service of Sage Seeker Armmon, the aging healer's own health failing, Callum was kept busy with cares of his own. Standing almost two heads taller than she last remembered, the boy's once slender frame now carried weight. His youthful features beginning to settle into what would become those of a truly handsome man.
"If you bear any love for me: stand aside and let me depart in peace."
Stepping forward, "I will hear your plans, milady." Callum said glancing toward the guards who now patrolled outside the stables.
Sighing deeply, "I'd hoped to meet with a friend in secret. The nature of our encounter is delicate, one we'd rather not explain," Cassandra whispered. "I'm sure you can understand."
"Lies do not become you milady; even half-truths," Callum said not hiding the irritation in his voice. "If you would rather your Dunrosha guardsmen question you; then I'm left with little choice."
Appointed two Divine Knights to serve as protection by Vivienne herself; Cassandra's holy knights were given the task of watching over her morning, noon and night. The Divine Victoria fearing the Lord Seeker would somehow harm herself during her time of mourning. A benevolent if not subtle ruse, one designed to uphold the appearance of Vivienne's station, the holy-guards were meant to keep Cassandra from doing what she was attempting; trying to leave New Haven unobstructed.
"How have you been made aware of my actions; who betrayed me? Was it my handmaid, Talia; I knew the girl could not be trusted."
"The correspondence from Val Royeaux by Lady Leliana; each letter was coded using the Inquisition's cyphers taught to me by…"
Eyeing Callum, "Varric indulged him far too much during their time together," Cassandra interrupted. "As my nephew apparently did with you. That being the case…given all you know, stand aside; your questions only serve to slow me down."
"Yet, I will have your answer, milady."
"I go to receive information concerning the whereabouts of the pirate lord who betrayed my kin and left him for dead."
"To what end," Callum said sounding bewildered. "The dwarf has committed no direct crime against Thedas or the Chantry. He has harmed no member of the order; so why pursue him? No lawful justice can be gained by knowing his location, he is blameless, innocent milady."
Infuriated, drawing her sword from its sheath once more, "You would barter the life of that coward," Cassandra said raising her blade to Callum's throat. "You, you of all people; stand in defense of the nug-fucker that deceived Tristan on the field of battle?"
Gently pushing Cassandra's blade aside, "No milady, I only desired to measure your fury," Callum said walking away. "I needed to be sure it matched my own…before I allowed you to accompany me on my quest; to murder, Audius Burdock."
Amaranthine Ocean
To the east, with a reddish-orange glow, a new day began. With only the thinnest shroud of vapor remaining in a sapphire sky, the cool crisp air awaited the warmth of the sun. For as far as the eye could see the Amaranthine Ocean appeared tranquil, still. The first light of the day shimmering off the vast deep like diamonds scattered over black silk. Standing at the forecastle of the Alicia Arcadia, Captain Illion Nubarrum III, watched as the great transport stirred the ocean beneath it. The Antivan Trader, parting the waters in white plumes of escalating waves; its sails filled with a steady wind as it cut through the ocean like a pearl dagger. Painted, using crushed pearl stones, large round pinkish-blue eggs taken from the belly of giant gamlow whales, the ship rippled and reflected the ocean off its polished exterior. The Arcadias' outer hull, like all Antivan vessels, taking on the distinct properties of the stones themselves. The pearls ground into a fine powder and added to liquefied metals; cooled then crafted and fashioned to cover the hull of every ship purchased from the Antivan Shipmaster Guild. With her gilded gold trimmings and elegant lines, the Alicia Arcadia was a sight to behold.
The wind is with us, Captain Illion thought as the smell of the ocean assaulted him.
Above him, the sound of bellowing sails sang, filling to breaking with air. Almost invisible, the colossal blue canvases were barely seen in the dawning light. Each one etched with golden boarders that enclosed the sigil of his house; a golden kraken on a field of white.
"Our way seems sure today."
"Aye, I believe it shall be," Illion said looking back over his shoulder. "Is all good Captain Wyldor?"
A stout balding man, Captain Vladimir Wyldor's face was covered with wiry gray whiskers touched with hints of red. The dark uniforms of the sell-sword and his men contrasting with the white soft spun uniforms of Illion and his crew. Over a blue vest, Captain Wyldor wore a black padded long coat fixed loosely with two brass buckles in the shape of small hands clutching daggers. The coat marked with the metallic seal of a Vanguard Mercenary on its breast; its tails hanging to his knees. His pants, matching leathers that puffed away from his thighs, were stuffed into blue long boots marked with the engraving of the same seal. Bouncing on Captain Wyldor's waist as he made his way forward, a blue scabbard and belt decorated with brass studs held his sword; all of which had been polished to a pristine shine. No small task given the effect of sea spray on leather and metal, Illion thought.
"Please, no need for such formalities Captain," Wyldor said lowering a lantern carried above his head. " I have no title here at sea; you may call me Ser, if you like. My men find it easy enough."
"I see…a reprieve from formalities then," Illion said facing the ocean once more. "Is all well, Ser Wyldor?"
"In truth, no; I don't think I'm cutout for sailing," the sell-sword said acknowledging Illion's guardsman. "I fear I'm the only one that doesn't sleep aboard your ship at night; you and your personal guard excluded of course."
"It's been said; the sea is only tolerant of children and dogs," Illion mocked. "That her ebbs and flows can take many years to get used to; some sailors never do. The pitch of a ship either puts a man to sleep or causes him to drink."
"Yes, I can believe that; a drink would do me fine. The taste of vomit lingers in my mouth continually and my ass is sore from too much use. I've emptied my innards more times than I care to say. Mayhap, a cup of honey wine and crust of bread would help to silence them."
Bending down, Illion picked up a large skin of spiced wine placed near his feet, "This should help," he said smiling.
"You'd think sitting a horse for most of my life, I'd fare better on the back of a swaying beast."
"One would think."
"A reprieve from formalities," Ser Wyldor toasted, turning up the half empty bladder. Feeling the wine warming his chest against the morning air, "Thank you, that was much needed," he said lowering the wineskin and wiping his mouth. "Do tell, shall we reach Antiva at our appointed time?"
"It would appear so," Illion announced looking up toward the sails. "If this wind holds throughout, we'll make port in four days or so. Do you fear your employer's cargo will not keep, Ser?"
Pausing, swallowing more wine, "Lord Rothschild's goods are secure and ripe as can be," Ser Wyldor said. "It will be good to see land and feel earth beneath my feet again too. This ship has robbed me of more than a little sleep these last six months. No offense Captain Illion, but your craft will not be missed."
"None taken Ser, the sea is always cruel and trying, but without mercy for anyone ill prepared to traverse it."
Setting sail during the tylarim, a time sailors believed old-gods walked the ocean seeking souls. The Arcadia came upon difficult waters and storms early. Two of Ser Wyldor's men lost in a squall after falling overboard only ten days into the journey; several more followed only weeks later. Most of Illion's crew thought it an act of the Maker; retribution for the greed of the trade societies, organizations made up of the wealthiest shipping and trading houses in all Thedas. Unlike his crew, Illion gave it little consideration, rather concerning himself with his coin. Hired to exclusively service the needs of House Rothschild, the largest and richest house in the Antiva Trade Society, he was paid handsomely. Ordered to transport Captain Wyldor and his men to the land of Uir across the Amaranthine Ocean and back again, the return trip had been uneventful. With Lord Rothschild's cargo placed in the lower holds among the Arcadia's standard consignments, more than thirty Vanguard sell-swords guarded the goods day and night. Uninspected by Illion or his crew, who thought it best not to inquire; all counted themselves lucky the gods had been appeased, if indeed they were.
"The seagulls fly low this morning," Ser Wyldor said looking toward the horizon.
Illion's thoughts interrupted, "What say you, Ser," he inquired.
Beyond the horizon, what looked to be a small flock of birds could be seen taking flight. Their long black wings silhouetted against the coming sun as each bird seemingly grew larger while hovering just above the waves.
"Watchman, what say you to the east," Illion shouted, peering up into the sails of the Arcadia.
Silence lingered as the unseen man contemplated his reply, "Amphibirons Captain; several mountings over the horizon," the watchmen finally cried out; chiming a warning bell. "They're clustered just outside the range of our long guns, Captain!"
"Lower the main sails and secure all riggings," Illion commanded.
With the ringing of bells, the Arcadia awoke with life; her crew springing from sleep moving amid ship. Wiping the prior night away, the crew of the transport hastened to their post; most fast asleep above deck half-dressed and exhausted from the day before. Roused from their slumber by the boot of Illion's second in command, they quickly became fully aware of their purpose. Sailors seasoned with years of serves to their captain, each were accustomed to the screams and shouts in the preparation of battle.
"Every man take heed of yourself at once," Illion's second barked; the lean elf fully dressed in uniform with a sword in hand. "Runners, mind the aft anchors and prepare to lower chains! Gunners, raise all war-windows, I want eyes on every vessel in the water! Long-gunners, man your forward cannons and await our captain's orders."
"I must attend my responsibilities," Ser Wyldor said taking hold of his sword preparing to depart.
"Go Ser, and may valor be your glory…," Captain Illion said, reciting the Vangardsman's creed.
"Aye, it shall be…or death my reward," Ser Wyldor finished.
Peering through a large spy-scope, Captain Audius Burdock studied the great Antivan Trader lowering its main sails as it reduced speed. Positioned two leagues away from his fleet that rose over the skyline, the dwarven pirate thought to catch the trade ship off guard. Driven hard toward them on a favorable wind, the transport would have little time to adjust its speed and employ its weapons before being overtaken. Although able to match any comparable vessels' mobility at sea, even a Qunari Dreadnought's power; the Antivan whore was ill-equipped to contend with the ten smaller ships he deployed against it. Vastly smaller and powered by conjured sails, the amphibirons were among the fastest and swiftest sea crafts ever built. Redesigned for close combat at sea and on land, the ten-man elven craft could travel above water and sand using magic drawn from the fade.
"They're slowing down Captain," Hetos announced, joining Burdock on the forecastle of the Gilgamesh. Second in command, the barrel-chested human only stood two heads taller than his captain; with a stomach, as large as a bellowing sail. "Our scheme is undone, but I don't think they've spotted our lady."
From a distance, Burdock knew the elongated sails of the amphibiron, when adjusted for flight, could be mistaken for the wings of a large bird hunting over the ocean. A common tactic used among pirates and smugglers to avoid detection; it also helped to draw unsuspecting vessels closer before being raided. Positioned south of his fleet aboard the Gilgamesh, he desired to attack the transport on two fronts. Sweeping around the Antivan transport and taking it from behind, before crippling and boarding his prey. With his trap undone, the pirate lord now had no choice but to attack the larger vessel head on using his great lady as bait.
"Hoist main sails, secure all riggings, tighten jibbs and reposition our lines," Burdock demanded. "Assemble my fleet in a penta formation across the horizon, Hetos. We'll keep our distance and remain out of range until we're properly engaged."
"Aye Captain," Hetos said, turning his attention to the crew of the Gilgamesh. "Take heed dogs, unshaken the mast with haste! If our fleet meets that whore without us, they'll break their fast on cannon fire and seawater!"
With his arms raised, using hands signals, Hetos relayed his captain's orders to the watchman hidden in the crow's-nest of the ship. The three men quickly doing the same as they flashed and tilted mirrors into the sun. Seeing the five minor captains of the Veka, Somarus, Lomara, Kunta and Xaru slowly falling away from the five other attack ships spreading across the skyline, Hetos reported back to his captain.
"Everything is, as you'd have it, captain! We await further orders!"
"Increase our speed and proceed to meet our mark head on," Burdock said smiling. "We shall see if this bloated Antivan whore, with all the trimmings, can out dance my lady."
A restored ancient Rivain covatta, the Gilgamesh was the last of her kind. A third the size of the Arcadia, with a crew of sixty men, the black-wood war frigate could out maneuver the larger ship at four times its speed. Partially armored beneath its belly midway up the keel, the Gilgamesh was laced with two rows of cannons on both the starboard and port side and boasted two sets of long guns fore and aft. Rapidly racing toward the horizon, its dark mahogany hull drinking sunlight, it swiftly split water beneath it.
Brooding, watching his fleet spreading out, drifting back as the lightly armed covatta took point, Burdock ordered the small armada to adopt a V shape attack formation. The ten smaller vessels flanking each side of the Gilgamesh like a flock of birds in a migrating flight pattern. Using the drag and wake of the larger ship, the small amphibiron flotilla quickly glided through the ocean increasing their speed before taking flight. Closing its distance, as it drafted to a complete stop, the Antivan transport rose its forward cannons. The large silver arms, producing clouds of grayish smoke with the sound of thunder, as six long guns broke the silence of the day sending water and sea spray high into the air.
"They'll not take long to find their range, Captain," Hetos announced, seeing the small attack ships gliding over cannon fire as they realigned their green translucent sails. "Should we not prepare to turn?"
"No, we'll hold our course, let them bark at us a little longer," Burdock said spitting, to ward off evil. "We lie well beyond their range; and milady needs to give my captains time to slip inside their defenses. But, on my command; make ready to turn her hard into the wind and flash them our backside."
"There will be no victory for you, Audius Burdock."
"Pausing, his hand on his sword's hilt, "Hold your tongue witch," Burdock commanded. "Or I swear...I'll remove it."
Turning, seeing the strangely beautiful half elf, half qunari half-breed ascending a flight of stairs leading to the ship's helm, Burdock spit again. Standing on deck, Lucia's countenance threatened to out shine the day. Her fair skin, contrasted beneath a flowing wave of reddish-brown tresses and a hooded emerald green gown; seemingly, forever untouched by sunlight. Taken as payment in trade many years ago, the hornless half-breed was considered Burdock's principal consort and feared as an oracle among his crew.
"May-hap, we...you, you should..."
With a look, Burdock silenced his second in command, "Leave us witch, this affair concerns you not," he said roughly, returning his gaze toward the sea and Antivan transport. "I'll hear no soothsaying, nor warnings today!"
Turning, "Then I shall return when summoned," Lucia said, departing to the lower deck of the ship the way she came.
"Sheath your tongue Hetos, and give care to my commands," Burdock ordered as the transport repositioned its long guns. "Swing us about and put distance between our lady and that whore."
"Aye," Hetos said spinning the wheel of the Gilgamesh hard right. "All brace and hold fast, you dogs!"
The Frostback Mountains: New Haven
"We've not seen her or the lad milord, we swear it," the guardsman said looking at his companions. The apparent fear on their faces solidifying as the two Dunrosah Knights following Sage Armmon entered the room.
Sitting inside the Hall of Order, "Our Lord Seeker, the boy and four mounts are missing," Commander August Loannis said, searching Cassandra's desk. "Was it not your duty to stand watch at the stables last night? That alone makes you either lairs or incompetent, you decided."
"The seeker was aware of their movements; she'd have known when to avert their patrol," A Dunrosha Knight said, halting just inside the room.
"Our lady and my apprentice is nowhere to be found within the village," Sage Armmon said, the elderly man bent over slightly as he walked aided by a staff. "It is most unlike them to run off and forsake their duties. I fear they have been seduced by a melancholy spirt from the fade, due to long standing grief."
"My guess; a spirit of vengeance, sage teacher," Commander Loannis said rising.
"The High Lord Seeker, begun fasting and prolonging her morning prayers," the other Donrosha Knight added inspecting various tomes placed on a bookshelf. "Obviously, all part of a plan to undermine our authority and bypass our protection."
"You miss speak Ser, our lord was never under your authority…or in need of protection," Commander Loannis stated flatly. "Her tolerance, as well as ours, was little more than a kindness afforded the Divine. One, I no longer believe is necessary; given you've failed miserably to care for her. As acting commander of this order, I release you from your duties and dismiss you both. We'll handle the safeguarding of our Lord Seeker from this point on."
"Until the Divine recalls us to the citadel, we're duty-bound to recover Lord Seeker Pentaghast. Of course, you may assist, but the responsibility of her care is ours."
"And how shall you accomplish that," Ser Loannis said pensively. "She undoubtedly, does not wish to be found or cared for. Given the fact she now has a five-hour head start and knows the land as well as I; without the Maker's help, you'd be hard pressed to track her. Not to mention, know where to begin searching?"
Holding up several letters hidden behind a portrait of, Skyhold, "I suggest we begin here," the Donrosha Knight said.
The Frostback Mountains
"A little further and we'll rest I promise," Cassandra urged, leading her mount as it fought against her.
Around them, the swirl and howl of the wind seemed to fill the world. The fresh powder blowing down from the highest peak of the Frostback Mountain Range covering the world in a pristine layer of glittering white. Trudging forward, lowering her face against the numbing cold, she steadied her steed and course. For several hours accompanied by Callum, stopping only briefly to swap mounts, they rode. Releasing their first charges and ordering them back to New Haven, she was sure they had returned; both warhorses personally trained by her own hands. Reaching a bypass and hidden trail up through the Frostback; unknown to all but the foolish and most stubborn of adventures, the elder knight now sought shelter.
"Tell me milady, why such a perilous route," Callum said, trying to adjust to the cold as he sunk inside his furs. "Assuredly, you do not aim to freeze upon the Frostback?"
"You're more than welcome to turn back at any time," Cassandra said annoyed, handing Callum her mount's reins.
Ordering him to lead the horses away from the mountains' rock face toward a cluster of trees in the distance; she approached a large sheet of ice extending down the side of the mountain. Drawing her sword, carefully hacking at frost and snow, she retreated quickly. The popping of dislodged ice cracking overhead causing large spear like shards to plummet to the earth below.
"Whatever you do, don't breathe it in and be sure to keep your mount well in hand," Cassandra cried, drawing her steed further away.
Behind her, hearing several sheets of ice shattering against the mountain side, she leapt onto her horse. The explosion sending a cascade of powder and frost across the landscape as it blocked out the sun. The small tree formation bathed beneath mounds of snow, bending under its weight as it washed over them. Holding her breath, tossed from her saddle, Cassandra tightened her grip around her horse's reins as waves of snow and frost overwhelmed her. The surging powder forcing her mount back as the large stallion fought to stay upright. Snorting loudly, slowly struggling to free itself, pulling her in tow, the black warhorse liberated them both from the ice and cold. Around them the landscape had been altered; the once pristine snow now littered with unearthed rocks, dirt and fallen ice as a low humming rose from beneath the mountain. The echo of a distant avalanche and scurrying hordes of countless creatures cutting through the silence of the day.
"You could have...killed us," Callum said trying to catch his breath as he knelt covered in snow.
"That's what I told Varric when he did it," Cassandra replied dusting herself off. "Yet, I survived, as did you."
"Was it your aspiration to see me dead, milady?"
"My desire was of little to no concern," Cassandra said retrieving her sword. "If we are to face what lies ahead, the chore of preserving your life must be your own. A task I doubt you capable of…given all I know."
"I am not the child you once knew, Lord Seeker," Callum said leading his mount around her. "Nor am I in need of your protection…or guidance."
"We shall see young sage. Surely, we shall know your strength soon enough."
Uncovered by crumbling ice and shifting snow a large passageway had been revealed. The enormous arching doorway hewn into the side of the rock face framed by elaborate etchings and dwarven scrollwork. A byproduct of the lost cities that once belonged to the proud dwarven people of Thedas, the upper roads cutting through the Frostback High grounds were seldom used. Taken over and inhabited by darkspawn, demonic and tainted entities, the underground roads were no longer safe for common travel. Only journeymen believing themselves capable of withstanding the dangerous conditions, rigorous terrain, and in desperate need to save time; opted for such a detour. The high roads of Orzammar, the remarkable underground dwarven city, reducing the eight-day trek around the Frostback to the Hinterlands by more than five days. Gradually melting the snow and ice obstructing entry, the heat from inside the opening could be felt beyond the darkness within. Standing outside the entrance, feeling the warmth produced, Callum packed away his furs and removed his staff from his saddle.
"Should I lead, or will you milady," he asked causing his staff to glow as he mounted his steed. The long spear like beam decorated with arcane markings and small rings of ornate gems. Its head, topped with several silverite spikes, forming a lance shaped crown that housed a blue lyrium crystal in the center.
"I pray the Maker, your skill is worthy of the weapon you carry," Cassandra said, adjusting herself in her saddle. "By your lead, we go."
Amaranthine Ocean
With the skill afforded her, Nalva'ta scrambled up the tow ropes of the Antivan ship deftly. The lean elven pirate adjusting her weight as the large transport rocked gently in the Amaranthine Ocean. Biting down on two small knives held between her teeth she gestured for her crew to follow. Around her, the deafening sound of cannons and screams mingled with the groans of the ship thrilled her. The smell of gun powder and magic igniting the air only adding to the excitement she felt as she climbed. Glancing back briefly, watching her men swiftly ascend the tow line and anchor chain behind her, she quickened her pace.
Far below them, the Somarus bobbed like a child's toy in the wake of the Antivan vessel. The tiny amphibiron slipping pass all the confusion as the gunners of the trading transport attempted to sink the other attack boats maneuvering inside their defenses.
Pulling herself inside the release whole that lowered the enormous anchor on the starboard-side of the ship, Nalva waited for her men to do the same. The captain of the Somarus and minor captain under the pirate lord Audius Burdock, she'd been instructed to cripple the ship should her lord's initial plan fail. Sheathing her knives before withdrawing two dual-bladed daggers from their scabbards on her back, Nalva slipped silently to the winching rooms' door. The large compartment housing several giant mechanisms designed to hoist the anchor and lines using less than twenty men topside. Attached to reels, the lines and chain would spool themselves when lifted, filling the cabin when not in use; the compartment rarely occupied during battle.
Without a sound, leaping quietly into the room, Gudatsen made his way to her. The Avvarian's painted face and body glowing white like dried bones as he unsheathed two axes from his side. Followed closely, Marius helped Jakob Stonehammer and Fink into the room. The human raider from the Hissing Waste pulling the dwarf and dark elf aboard before waving off the remaining crew on the ship below.
"We move with stealth and haste," Nalva said eyeing everyone. "Stonehammer, you and Gudatsen make your way to the captain quarters above. Secure all coin, jewels and documents you find; then return to the Somarus."
Adjusting his fingerless stone gauntlets, covered in ancient dwarven script, "What about our lord's orders, milady," Stonehammer said. The muscular dwarf, with blond hair and green-eyes, dressed in a vest and shorten trousers ending below his knees.
"You mind my orders fool, or I'll be the one to remove those delicate eyes from that thick skull," Nalva said brandishing her dagger. "Marius and Fink, you'll stay with me to complete our lord's wishes, yes?"
Nodding in compliance, Fink detached two flasks from her waist belt. The petite grayish elf wearing a padded hooded coat and pants adorn with leather straps, hooks and countless miniature flasks.
"The lower decks will be well guarded," Marius said. "May I suggest we make our way to the great cabin also; before we proceed to the gun room? May be, we'll find a change of attire there."
Studying the handsome human with his unkept bread, black low cropped hair and deep gray eyes, Nalva considered his wisdom.
Sheathing her blades, "Very well, Gudatsen you'll take lead until we reach the Captian's Cabin. As for you thief, you'll cover the rear."
Smiling at Nalva, "There's no better place to cover," Marius said drawing knives worn across his chest.
"If we should encounter resistance kill every man in sight save the ship's captain, our lord want's him alive."
Outside the door, the hall appeared empty, the voices of men giving and taking orders heard above and below. Moving quickly toward a short winding staircase at the far end of the passageway, Gudatsen hurried upstairs followed by the others; the Avvarian warrior halting midway, signaling for all to stop. At the top of the stairs two armored knights stood at rest holding long swords as they conversed. The two men guarding the captain's quarters pondering the outcome of the battle raging around them. With a gesture of her hand, Nalva watched the two men fall to their knees as two throwing knives and small bolts pierced through their throats beneath their helms. Looking back, seeing Fink reloading the bracelet like devices she wore on her wrist, the darkling winked with a smile. Stripping one of the guards of their heavy armor, Marius dressed himself in the knight's cloak, helm, breastplate, gauntlets and greaves. The raider looking as if he was somehow meant to wear them.
"You wear the armor well, thief," Stonehammer said, dragging a knight into the captain's chamber.
Dragging the other, "No need to insult me dwarf," Marius replied. "Only kings, slaves and cowards don steel and are trained to like it."
Inside the cabin, lavishly arranged with expensive furnishings, gilded trim and woodwork, Nalva examined a replica of Thedas displayed on a large table in the center of the room. A topographical map, the representation was a scale depiction of Thedas with many major cities and towns altered or replaced; some removed altogether.
"What's to be made of this," Nalva inquired of Marius, the human standing beside her in the brownish-gray plated everite armor.
"I'm unsure, perhaps it's a map of ancient Thedas. No way of knowing, but regardless, we're unable to take it with us."
"Fink, can you commit this to memory?"
An alchemist and assassin, the tiny elf could not speak, her tongue removed by her Venatori master before she killed him long ago. The ships' navigator aboard the Somarus, she was known for her ability to remember the slightest details read from books or seen on diagrams. Nodding yes, the elven rouge quickly ran her eyes up and down the table stopping to touch the map numerous times before walking away.
Gathering whatever they could carry into two sacks, Gudatsen and Stonehammer departed as ordered. Finding only ill fitted robes, shirts and trousers, Nalva and Fink elected to follow Marius' lead as they made their way back downstairs pass the officer cabins on the third deck of the ship. Built for transporting enormous amounts of cargo, the Antivan trade-transport stood almost two hundred and twenty-four stones above its waterline, showing seven decks. Housing more than a thousand crewmen, many of whom slept between the ship's cannons and guns, with a few below in the cargo holds; the transport was considered a floating fortress. Boasting over one hundred and thirty cannons, forty port and starboard between three decks and twenty more found topside including its long guns, only a fool would ever think to attack it and survive. The heaviest cannons and remaining numbers positioned port and starboard on the sixth deck above the ships' vast cargo holds.
Descending another flight of stairs and making their way across the ship, Nalva and Fink entered the gun room on the port side. Almost unnoticed Marius made his way around the transport amongst its crew. The uniformed sailors saluting him as sentries in light armor spoke to him briefly; the armored thief playing his role well beyond expectation. Following him from a distance as best they could while Marius distracted or ordered the ship's crewmen away; Nalva and Fink hide in rooms between supply bags, furnishings or crates. Making his way to the syphon compartment on the fifth deck, the room housing the large bronze cylinders and pumps that drained or carried water throughout the ship, Marius ordered several crewmen topside. Eyeing the knight queerly, the sailors scarcely dressed in trousers, continued their work. The twenty or so men managing the large pumps that were critical to the ships' operations as they directed the flow of water throughout using a series of pipes and levers. Capable of quenching fires or draining flooded compartments on lower decks; during a time of conflict their roles became vital. Drawing the knight's sword, he carried on his hip, Marius swiftly cut through four men. Astonished and bewildered, the others sought weapons of wood and bronze piping scattered throughout the cabin as the thief made short work of two more. In a flurry of screams and shouts, Nalva and Fink assisted the raider in dispatching the rest, the massacre concealed under the echoing of cannon fire in the distance.
"These pumps will not hold if not properly bleed off," Marius said removing the knight's armor. "We'll be trapped below deck if they realize these men are not performing their duties."
"Then I suggest you maintain the illusion for as long as possible," Nalva said searching the room. "Fink, prepare your mixture."
Taking the knight's helm, the elven rouge broke several flasks inside it. The concoction rising in a purplish-red mist of thick smoke as it bubbled. Using a large splinter of wood taken from the floor, Fink stirred in a flask of pitch causing the contents to gel like blood left to long out of the body. Ripping the trousers of a dead sailor, she wrapped the contents of the helm inside four small bundles and handed them to her captain.
Taking the tied clothes, "Will these do what is needed," Nalva said closing off a valve connected to one of the pipes aligning the wall.
Nodding her assurance, Fink proceeded to smear what remained of her creation on the walls and pumps throughout the room. The smell causing Marius to gag as he scampered about in vain trying to control the flow of water being directed to the chamber. Placing the contents given to her in the piping, Nalva reopened the valve listening to the sound of rushing water. Unsheathing her daggers from her back once more, she moved to the door of the room.
"I'll not leave this ship empty handed," she said eyeing Marius keenly. "Nor will I hear any more suggestions. We move to the holds and await what follows. At first chance given, we'll pilfer as much cargo as the Somarus can safely carry before rejoining our lord, yes?"
Like bees annoying a great bear, Audius Burdock watched his tiny fleet sail around the Antivan trading vessel. The speed of the close quarter crafts allowing them to maneuver in and out of the larger ships' defenses with seeming ease. Casting canisters of Antivan Fire, the pitch like substance igniting once exposed to air, his men could do little more than singe the hull of the great ship. Positioned well beyond the range of the transport's long guns aboard the Gilgamesh, the pirate lord awaited any sign his plans had taken hold.
"Another of our ships have been sunk, milord," Hetos said looking through the spy glass. "Spellcasters, aboard the enemy ship are seeking to drown our men in the water."
"How many ships remain," Burdock inquired pacing the main deck.
"Seven milord, but the Somarus has not moved far from its location. The transport gunners have switched to using scatter fire in the cannons placed on the lower levels of their ship. Soon our men will be forced to withdraw or die, Captain. What are your orders, milord?"
With the transport using smaller shots, twenty iron or steel balls wrapped in a canvas to cover a wider area once fired, Burdock's fleet wouldn't last much longer. Watching the sun reaching its zenith in the sky he knew soon the advantage of the day would be lost as well. The sudden drop in temperature as nightfall approached causing the waves and weather to change drastically, leaving his small fleet in danger of becoming wreckage.
Turning to see the Antivan whore resting port side, "Bring me Lucia," Burdock commanded, spitting overboard.
Summoned, the half breed elf ascended the stairs leading to the lower decks of the ship once more. Clothed in an enchanter's robe with its hood protecting her from the sun, she gracefully made her way toward Burdock, the pirate lord standing on the deck rail of his ship holding a jeer line as he looked out to sea.
"You sent for me, milord," Lucia said standing beside him. "What do you desire?"
Looking down on her, "What I desire is that damn ship sunk and its cargo in tow," Burdock said. "Will I have it or not?"
"The will of men are their own, as you well know."
Leaping down, drawing his sword, "Did I summon you to fill my ears with shit woman, or give me answers," Burdock replied. "Now tell me plain; will the ship yield or am I foiled?"
Looking at the beautiful elf, Burdock could see she'd been swept into a trance. Closing her eyes, her body shaking as her face seemingly glowed, Lucia could no longer hear his voice or intimidations. Making subtle gestures with her hands as though she wrote words in midair she stopped suddenly and pointed out to sea.
With a sounded like the breaking of bones, but only those of a god, the side of the great transport exploded. Followed by a series of smaller explosions, the shouts of men in the distance could be faintly heard on the wind. Turning to see water and spray stream forth from the bottom of the Antivan vessel, Burdock rushed to the helm of his ship.
"Raise main sails and lifts," he barked causing his crew to hasten to their post. "Secure the jibs and prepare long guns. We take this gilded bitch at all cost, leaving none aboard alive."
"Captain, what are your orders for the fleet," Hetos said escorting Lucia off deck. "Should I order them to board our prey, or stay their hand until we come into range?"
Smiling as he turned the Gilgamesh hard left, "Command them to rape the Antivan whore and make my way clear. All men dead save the captain of the vessel, he's mine to contend with."
Wading through water plagued with bodies, blood, wood, cloth and grain; Nalva could barely hear the mayhem that surrounded her. The great explosion that rocked the sinking transport almost robbing the elven pirate of her hearing and life as she tried to right herself. Around her, livestock squealed, screeched and bayed locked away in cages as they tried desperately not to drown. The hole in the side of the ship allowing water to flow slowly into the compartment as dust and smoke reduced all visibility. Unable to contain the fires that threatened to burn the ship, the siphoning pumps destroyed by Nalva and her crew assuring they wouldn't, many sailors were abandoning ship. Ordered by her lord to place Fink's potion into the ship's piping, Nalva had been commanded to return to her own ship and depart as a sign that all had been done. Choosing rather to stay aboard and secure all that could be taken for herself and crew, it appeared that decision would be her undoing. Reaching for her daggers, remembering she'd been holding them when the floor beneath her gave way; Nalva drew the two knives attached to her hips. Attempting to make her way to the door of the cargo hold, she stumbled and fell before righting herself once more. Just one of four, the enormous hold of the transport was design to story various goods and livestock for many months. Equal to the height of two decks, the compartments had been sectioned off from one another and could be sealed air tight in case of flooding; each having their own pump. Straining to hear the commotion beyond the bay door as she approached, Nalva fought the urge to yell for help. The voices of men in the adjacent hold being ordered to brace the large cargo doors in hopes of preventing water from seeping through.
Hearing cannon fire in the distance, the Gilgamesh, Nalva thought, feeling blood running down her face. The booming of the warship's guns rocking the great trader as cannon fire crashed against its hull.
Abruptly, the voices of the men went silent. The shouts of their commander recalling them as their footfalls echoing behind the bay door diminished. Feeling faint and of need of sleep, Nalva sank down and closed her eyes. The world beginning to fall away as a chill caused her teeth to chatter. Extremely cold, she now felt nothing; the frigid temperature of the sea water drawing heat from her flesh and bones. Almost asleep, behind her the splashing of water demanded her attention, the cry of a familiar voice vaguely heard like a whisper making her groan in responds. Falling back into sleep she could feel the warmth of two arms as they lifted her up. Through half lidded eyes, she turned to see the angel now holding her, a spirit from beyond the fade her mother often spoke of when she was only a child. It's voice reassuring her that all would be made right in the next life, if not in this one.
Handsome and glowing as it looked down on her, "Have you…come to take me," Nalva said going limp in its arms.
"In every way possible, if that's what you'd like," it replied, its breath smelling of rum and blood roots.
"You…may…have me."
Carrying his captain, Marius made his way to the breach in the roof of the hold. Looking up at Fink who knelt beside the opening holding a thin line, he watched the darkling release it down to him. No thicker than his smallest finger with a hook on the end, the cord appeared strong. Removing a shirt from one of the dead floating next to him, the raider made a makeshift harness beneath Nalva's arms and secured the cord.
"Tie it off and I'll climb up and draw our lady afterward," Marius said checking the line.
Without hesitation Fink began to draw Nalva up as she pulled the line to herself. The tiny elf groaning and grunting with every tug on the cable as she reached down and heaved back against it.
"By the Maker, I'm impressed," Marius said watching her pulling Nalva up and through the hole.
After which, securing the cable to a jeer bit, Fink tossed it back down and allowed Marius to climb up. The raider seeing the elf kissing their captain to revive her, silently thanking the gods for the opportunity and hopeful later that night; the use of the mental image. Regaining consciousness, Nalva took a moment to get her bearings, the effects of the explosion still lingering. Standing, cursing the loss of her weapons, she acquired Marius' dagger and headed to the other side of the ship.
"There are still men down in the hold," Nalva said, circumventing busted bulkheads, dying men and weaken deck boards.
"Would it not be wiser to leave this ship and distance ourselves from the pull when it subsides completely," Marius said gathering two swords taken from dead sentries.
"Must we always have these conversations, thief? Or, will I have to kill you before you learn to obey me? Whatever those men below are guarding, they'd rather die before forsaking it to the likes of our lord. That alone makes the risk well worth it, yes?"
Confronted by sailors seeking to escape the transport, Nalva and her men cut them down on sight. The untrained men, little more than skilled labor aboard such vessels, were ill equipped to match swords. Plunging back down into the belly of the ship, she was sure the men they'd face below would be of a different yoke. Only well trained and discipline men, who thought not of themselves but honor would think to die for property not their own. No doubt knights, or perhaps trained slaves; like Fink had once been before dispatching her master in favor of freedom. Whatever the case, the elven pirate was determined to have any prize valuable enough to warrant their protection. Standing at the top of the stairs leading down into the cargo holds of the ship, Nalva instructed Fink to equip her flask of Antivan Fire. The assassin mixing the contents of two smaller flasks into a much larger one worn on her belt before nodding her readiness. Moving cautiously down into the bay, unaffected by the explosions; countless barrels, containers and crates were secured to the ships' bulkheads with heavy netting. Bolted to the deck and tied together, empty cages stacked three high stood in rows of two on both starboard and port said of the ship. Drawn deeper into the darken compartment as lanterns hung burning in rows along the riders and rib beams of the ship, Nalva could feel the eyes of men watching from the shadows. With the loosing of arrows in front and behind her, Nalva dived to the side between two cages as they rang of the steel and impaled the floor. Igniting the bay with fire produced by her flask, Fink escaped into the shadows as Marius positioned himself across the room concealed behind cargo. Kneeling, unable to see Fink or Marius, Nalva slowed her breathing and listened; awaiting the next attack.
"Whatever you've come for, you won't find it here," the voice of the man commanding the others from across the hold announced, the authority in his declaration unmistakable. "Consider that a warning and this a kindness; I'll allow you to take whatever you wish from this chamber, it concerns me not. But, if you proceed any further…well, that will not be permitted, I defer to your decision."
"This ship is sinking, and I doubt milord shall be willing to transport you and those goods safely back to Antiva," Nalva said trying to locate the position of the archers that surrounded her. "But, if you and your men are incline to keep your lives, I believe lifeboats remain unused topside. Who is to say, mayhap a few of you will survive to tell your wives, sons or daughters… even grandchildren of this day."
"Not unlike the dwarven, Legion of the Dead, we ourselves too are like minded. You will find none of my men shall falter in the face of death girl. Now, take what you will from this hold and leave, my charity has reached its limit."
Descending the stairs of the hold, "Good, I was sick of hearing you yelp," Audius Burdock said, followed by Hetos and his crew.
In the thick of the chaos that ensued, Nalva sought to find Fink and Marius. The two rouges lost in the melee between the Vanguardsmen and their lord's crewmen. Evading a sword thrust of a knight intended for her chest, Nalva attempted to drive her dagger into the man's eye. Her attack, easily parried, the soldier countered with an undercut as he hammered his fist into her jaw. Off balance and forced back, Nalva knew the next sword lung would send his blade through her. Fighting to keep her footing as she braced for the inevitable, the elf tried to twist away from the blow. Surprised that the soldier had forfeited the opportunity to strike, she repositioned her guard only to see the man fall dead at her feet. Perched high atop one of the stacked cages, Fink smiled as she reloaded the devices she wore on her wrist. Locating Marius across the room, the thief in combat against two guardsmen as he wielded two swords in his defense, Nalva began to rush to his aid. Pulled from her feet instantly, slammed to the floor, she found herself kneeling, looking up at her lord.
"You'll remain at my side elf," Audius Burdock said, hammering his fist into the knees of two soldier as the men screamed and collapsed. Withdrawing their knives from sheaths on their chest, the pirate buried them into their skulls. Turning to find Nalva still on the floor beside him, "I'll not allow you to die here; not before you pay the price for your disobedience, girl."
Cutting through the vanguard of the sell-swords, Burdock ordered his crew to empty the bay of its cargo. Sealed away in the adjacent hold, the few surviving guardsmen along with their captain had retreated. Cursing them all as cowards, the pirate lord had thought to burn them alive if not for the cargo they protected. Drawing closer to the doors that secured the hold, following her lord, Nalva could her the cries of livestock on the other side. The whimpering of the animals distantly heard as if muffled by the sound of the sea rushing to meet the hull of the great ship. Using axes and hammers, the crew of the Gilgamesh smashed the doors and brought them down according to the wishes of their captain. The soft noise that once filled their ears ceasing as the doors fell.
"By the gods," Audius Burdock said as he entered the hold, the dwarven lord motionless.
Spread out, throughout the hold, countless bodies had been slaughtered. The light and dark grey corpses of elves no older than four cycles murdered as their blood flooded the floor and stained the walls of the hold. Intermingled with them, the sell-swords and their captain lay dead at the foot of the mound. The men holding bloody weapons in bloody hands.