Chapter 10: Six of Cups

Money flowed as freely as blood and magic in Dorian's stratum of Imperium society. But Halward was not one for idle threats, and as the days and then weeks passed by there were no letters for Dorian, and no funds flowing into his accounts. It was worrisome; it was never a thing Dorian had ever had to think about, let alone worry about before. But it was worth it, if only to be able to look at himself in the mirror every day and not hate the man he saw.

Halward had cut Dorian off financially, thinking it would stifle his son; but Dorian had never felt so free. Unlike his life in Minrathous, everything he needed was contained in the Vyrantium Circle. Any materials he needed were provided as part of his research; any books he needed were in the library, and those that weren't could be procured at no cost. His rooms and meals were provided, and he was able to meet with his peers and mentors without the pretenses of a party atmosphere.

He had no need for pretense, unless it was where his preferences were concerned; and then, it was less pretense and more avoidance. No one ever said anything, but Dorian knew that Halward's attitude about his preference was far more common in Tevinter than not. It happened, but was kept hushed and was only for quick pleasure, or to avoid getting a woman with child. It was never anything more. Dorian found it best to just avoid temptation as much as possible where that was concerned, so he avoided Relenus as much as he could.

Dorian instead focused on finishing his staff. He found that focusing on the task helped him work through the hurricane of feelings inside. He'd set in it runes that focused and enhanced his penchant for lightning magic and his connection to the spirits of the Fade.

When he felt his work was complete he took it to a large room in the lowest levels of the Circle. The room was lit by green veilfire torches and it felt a bit like walking in water, since being in the room put one on the line between reality and the Fade. Spirits flitted at the corners of his vision, but whenever he tried to see one straight-on it disappeared. There was an understanding between the spirits here, and the mages, that the purpose of the room was for training.

Dorian gripped his staff and felt the magic flow from him and back into him; he didn't know where he ended and the staff began. A milky white spirit materialized before him and he brandished the staff, channeling electricity down his arm and into the staff, and directed it at the spirit. A concentrated bolt of lightning pierced it and it evaporated. Another appeared behind him and he wheeled around and hit it with an arcane bolt. Two more approached from his right and he flung out the staff and hit them with a cluster of bolts that radiated an area of effect and vaporized the spirits.

He went on like this for at least an hour. The spirits kept coming and he kept fighting, moving smoothly and striking like a snake. He didn't focus on the opponents, but on his movements and his spell casting. When his mana dropped, he switched to simple arcane bolt attacks and maneuvering away from threats while waiting to recharge. It was more physical work than he was used to and it left him breathing hard and sweating; but he kept moving, kept firing, kept focused. Venatori wouldn't let him pause to catch his breath, and they would probably be fighting with blood magic. He wouldn't sink to that; he had to be better than they were, without that advantage.

Suddenly he was knocked to his knees by a hard magical blow from behind. Without thinking he cast Haste, surrounding himself with a golden dome of energy that made everything outside of it seem muted and slow. He got to his feet and spun around, staff pointed at his attacker.

It was Relenus, looking shocked at Dorian's use of the spell. Dorian waved his hand and ended the spell and had a sensation of his stomach lurching when he returned to normal time and movement. "Good afternoon," he said, catching his breath after his fight. "Have you come for that sparring match you suggested?"

Relenus leaned on his staff and nodded. "I heard you were down here and thought you might be ready for me." He smiled and straightened up. "Unless you're too tired?"

Now that he had stopped Dorian was exhausted. But he pasted on a bright smile and bowed slightly. "Never. What's your school?"

Relenus grinned, his dark eyes mischievous. "I'll let you find that out for yourself."

"I like…" Dorian was about to say when you play hard to get, but he stopped himself. "I like a challenge," he said. The near-slip was enough to shake his confidence and focus, and he found himself on the receiving end of a hard arcane bolt to the stomach. Without thinking he reached for the Fade and called upon spirits of fear and horror to give him a moment to recover.

Relenus swept his staff in a wide arc and conjured a shimmering protective barrier. He held up his left hand and waved it over his head and Dorian's Horror spell dissipated.

"Spirit, then," Dorian said with a grin.

"We may find ourselves at an impasse," Relenus said. "Necromancer."

"And proud of it," Dorian said and blasted chain lightning at Relenus. The other mage's concentration had been momentarily broken; his barrier absorbed most of the lightning damage, but some broke through; it destroyed the barrier and he flew backward and slid across the polished marble floor.

Perhaps it was too much. Dorian went over to Relenus, set to apologize as the other mage struggled to his feet. But Relenus just looked up, smiled, and blasted Dorian with a Cone of Cold that left him frozen and rooted to the floor. "Where are your dead friends now?" Relenus teased, tapping Dorian's iced-over shoulder with his staff.

Dorian could hardly breathe and there was a buzzing in him as he shivered against the hard case of ice around him. He'd been burned and zapped and smote, but never frozen. It was new, and he didn't like it. His first instinct was to struggle against the ice, but then he remembered he was first and foremost a primal mage. He reached deep inside and pulled up his mana reserves, and channeled them into his fire spells.

The warmth started in the pit of his stomach and spread up through his chest and down his legs and arms. He gave a mighty struggle and the ice shattered into melting shards around him as a flash of fire burst forth and was quickly extinguished. It left Dorian breathing hard and with little mana reserve left, but he held out his staff in defense, ready for Relenus's next spell.

But Relenus wasn't casting; he was watching him oddly. "That was… incredible," he finally said. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Dorian said. "I've never been frozen before, so I suppose the experience is good."

"I didn't mean to get carried away," Relenus said, blushing. "But I've never fought anyone as good as you."

Dorian blushed as well. "You're kind. I'm woefully out of practice."

"Then we must do this again sometime," Relenus said with a sparkle in his dark eyes. "If this is you out of practice, I'd love to see you at your best."

"I will take you up on that," Dorian said with a grin.

Nothing could ever happen with Relenus, Dorian realized; but having him around at least helped take his mind off of Felix, who'd never written back to him. He had to have felt betrayed; he'd called Dorian his brother, only for Dorian to run and abandon that bond. I did it for the right reasons, he kept telling himself.

"So why didn't you transfer to the Minrathous Circle?" Relenus asked him over a chess game one morning. The paler sun of winter had not dulled his smooth tan, and he was like a little bit of summer that Dorian could not help but cling to. "You're obviously good enough."

Dorian shrugged. "Minrathous held little interest for me," he said. "What about you?" he asked. There'd been a time when he would have loved talking about himself; but with all he'd seen and experienced in just a few short years, there were many things he thought better left unsaid.

Relenus waved his hand. "Just some nowhere village on the border of the Imperium and Antiva. When I displayed magical capabilities as a child we moved closer to Vyrantium so I could study. I was able to find a patron who sponsored me and paid my tuition to study here at the Circle."

So he was a Laetans then. "That's fortunate," Dorian said. "Sometimes I feel the Magisters don't wish to encourage those born to non-magic parents. They'd see the Imperium fall to ruin first."

"People like your father?" Relenus asked.

Dorian reddened and his throat felt closed up at the mention of his father. But it was true; Halward was a purist, and Dorian himself had been bred to carry on that legacy. "The man to whom I am a colossal disappointment?" Dorian asked with a forced grin. "Yes. He's so old-school Tevinter that I think he secretly worships the Old Gods."

Relenus laughed. "I'm glad you're not like other Altus mages, Dorian," he said. "Then I might have to actually try to hurt you in our sparring matches."

"You're not trying now?" Dorian asked. "I'm offended. Truly." He grinned. "I may be too pretty to die, but I'd hope you'd at least make me work for my survival."

Relenus sat back, staring at Dorian with calculating dark eyes. "Maybe you're more like other Altuses than I thought," he said, but he couldn't hold back his smile. "Fine, but it's your funeral. I will meet you in the practice chamber tomorrow morning." He moved a piece on the board before standing. "Checkmate," he said and winked.

By its very nature, there were some spells in the Necromancy school that Dorian could not practice unless he had first killed something. It was not something he was keen to try, but necessity dictated that he must. It felt like his whole life in Tevinter was one necessary evil after another.

"I can't rely on theory alone when it comes to knowing how to cast," he said, pacing the First Enchanter's office. "But I don't want to kill for academic study, either," he said, thinking of the slaves he'd seen die for no purpose other than increasing someone's magic.

The First Enchanter tapped his fingertips together. "You have quite the conundrum, Dorian," he said at last. "Nothing with you is ever simple. Livius thought this might be an issue for you at some point."

"I wish he were still here," Dorian said ruefully.

"He would tell you the same thing I will," the First Enchanter said. He leveled his electric blue gaze at Dorian. "The trade routes around the city are plagued with bandits attacking refugee mages who manage to escape the Free Marches; and the docks are infested with lyrium thieves and smugglers trying to get in on the market down south. It's all more than the guards can handle."

Dorian absorbed this. "You're saying…"

"I'm saying that if you wanted to help, I don't think anyone would mind."

That night Dorian dressed in his dark robes and donned a cloak. He hadn't left the Circle since arriving months ago; he had no reason to, really, and after his father cut him off financially, there was no point going off the grounds. He went alone, and he was nervous. He wished Felix was with him, or even Relenus, but just the thought of what he was going to do made him feel slightly ill.

Still, bandits and smugglers preyed on the weak and took advantage of the unwary. Neutralizing them was different than killing slaves for obscene blood magic rituals. Slaves were part of a household; they waited on families and kept the household running. Yes, they were slaves, but to kill them just for their blood seemed a gross betrayal. Dorian did not think favorably of his family anymore, but at least they'd never resorted to blood magic.

He went to the docks, figuring that was relatively safer than being on the open road. There were more places to hide, and they were closer to the Circle. His breath came in quick gasps as he tried to quell his nerves. I'm doing it for the right reasons, he thought; it had become a personal mantra whenever he didn't feel quite right about something that had to be done.

The water lapped gently at the dock pilings and Dorian situated himself behind a stack of crates and waited. The night air was cool and smelled of seaweed and salt and fish. There was only a sliver of a moon and the stars were out in a clear sky. The ships bobbed slowly in the water, their mooring lines creaking in the night.

He waited for a long while. It was peaceful here by the harbor, without the constant thrum of magic coming from the walls. The quiet nearly put him to sleep, but he started and shook his head to clear the fog that was settling there. No, bad things happened when he got too relaxed.

His ears perked up when he heard the first footsteps. It could just be city guard. Dorian let the Fade fill him and reached out the faintest tendrils to feel for magic. City guards were always Soporati. But these were not guards; there was magic there, so likely some Laetans who could not acquire sponsorship and had turned to smuggling. Somehow it made him feel a little bit better, since these smugglers had the advantage of magic.

It was so quiet he was certain anyone out there would hear him breathing, or hear his heart thumping. He reached for the Fade and drew the spirits of darkness and death around him and they were oddly comforting. He remembered the hungry look on Laertes's face when Halward had paid him in lyrium. He knew what he had to do.

He stepped from the shadows as three smugglers began unloading crates of lyrium from a ship. They glowed faint blue and pulsed with magic. Dorian felt a surge of energy just from being in proximity to them. He held out his staff and the head crackled with electricity. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said with a smile. "Might I ask to where you are absconding with this lyrium that probably is not yours?"

The closest smuggler swore and drew his sword. "No, you may not," he said. "You won't be asking anyone anything. Ever." He charged at Dorian.

This was not a practice room with spirits or even another well-trained opponent. This man was channeling his magic through his body and into his fighting, which made him dangerous. Dorian slammed the butt of his staff on the ground and lightning crackled up from the dock and blasted two of the three smugglers off their feet.

The third was back too far to be affected, but he flung out his hand and a ball of fire came zooming toward Dorian. He swung out his staff in an arc, casting a passable barrier; it wasn't as good as Relenus's, but he wasn't a spirit mage by nature and he just needed to keep from getting hit. The barrier did its job and the flames dissipated. Dorian pulled from the Fade and a deep purple shadow fell over all three smugglers. The two on the dock writhed, clutching their heads and screaming in terror while the third ran about trying to get away from the fear that had settled inside of him.

Dorian took a deep breath and struck the nearest smuggler, the one with the sword, with the strongest bolt of lightning he could muster. The flash was blinding and when he blinked again the man was just… gone. Vaporized. In his place was a pale, milky spirit in human shape. Dorian waved his staff and the spirit went after one of the other two smugglers. The third Dorian stared down. The man was terrified, but came at him anyway. Dorian held up his hand and channeled his magic through his palm. The man staggered slightly, but kept running at him. When he was just a few paces away Dorian hit the dock with his staff and suddenly the man stopped. His eyes went wide and his face contorted and his limbs shook. Then he too vaporized in an explosion of violently purple spirit energy.

The remaining smuggler was crawling across the dock, trying to escape the spirit of his dead companion. His panic flowed through the air, into the Fade, and through Dorian, reenergizing him. The magic rolled through his body and focused down into his staff. He aimed it at the terrorized smuggler and a brilliant bolt of lightning finished him off.

The air cleared and Dorian caught his breath. He loosened his connection to the Fade and the spirits returned to their in-between world. He blinked to clear his vision and reeled in his mana. It felt like he was buzzing and ringing with all the magic. He leaned against a stack of crates and steadied himself before looking at the damage he'd done.

He expected to have to clean up, but there was nothing left, just a few blackened char marks to indicate that he'd electrocuted and vaporized three bodies. The night was calm and the air cool and clean, though Dorian felt he would have the scent of burning flesh in his nose forever. The crates of lyrium were scattered haphazardly where they'd been dropped by the smugglers.

Dorian heard a bell ringing and excited shouts. He didn't know how long the fight had lasted; it felt like it had gone on so long, and yet it hardly seemed any time had passed. The city guard was bound to have heard. He swallowed the lump in his throat, pulled up his hood, and stole back to the Circle.

Author's Note: Thanks so much to FenZev, Karebear, Yvain-star, mille libre, Apollo Wings, and deagh for the support and reviews! I appreciate it so very much! I love writing Dorian and discovering more about him and Tevinter as I go, and I thank you for the affirmation and support. Thank you to new favorites and follows as well! The Easter egg in the last chapter was this: the original novel I wrote for my MFA program in grad school is titled "Seven of Wands". The card stands for aggression, defiance, and conviction, all of which describe Dorian nicely, especially in chapter 9. Thank you for reading, and I hope you are enjoying Dorian growing and changing as much as I am :) (PS, my Tevinter hoodie came in the mail yesterday, and I'm totally living in an Imperial world, cuz I am an Imperium girl!)