Chapter 8:
A distant rumble moved through the ancient temple. Solas opened his eyes a slit. After his agents had reported finding nothing, he had returned to watching the people work to clear the blockage at the bottom of the stairs. Now, he could almost feel the magic which had been called. The Fade leaked into the world for a few heartbeats then vanished.
Solas kept his features straight. There was something familiar about the magic echoing through the stone to him. It wasn't so faint he could count it as being old remnants of magic. Instead, it was as if the person was standing within these very walls. Solas closed his eyes. Who was it? The magic was like Mythal's to him, so familiar it was as if it came from his own body. As if it were a breath he had taken.
The last time Solas had felt this magic was - was the last time all nine of them had stood as one. When they had been rulers not "gods." The name fell into place: Dirthamen. It was impossible. Both of his nephews had been sealed with the other evanuris. He remembered doing so. Yet, none but Dirthamen could twist such magic. Or, perhaps it was possible for another to have learned his secrets. This had to be it. Dirthamen was sealed away.
"My lord." Melda came to him. "You heard the rumbling?"
"It came from below. Someone else is here." Solas opened his eyes. "How long until the rest is cleared?" He looked at the girl before him.
"We're working as fast as we can," Melda replied. She shifted in her armor, still new for the girl who not too long ago was still acting as a seamstress. "If we continue at this pace, it shall take an hour," she said.
"Very well." Solas turned his gaze back on the scene before him. Perhaps it was just his imagination that made him feel Dirthamen's magic. Or something here which reminded him of his once gentle and kind nephew. A nephew who had grown just as corrupt and power hungry as the other evanuris. He remembered seeing Dirthamen there over Mythal's body with the others. He had stood beside them and killed his own mother.
The boy Solas had known and loved had vanished in that moment. Dirthamen wasn't sweet, he wasn't kind, or gentle. He had become a brutal, power hungry, cruel man just like his father.
"Lord Fen'Harel." Melda's Orleasian accented voice was tinged with worry. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"When the rubble is cleared take an advanced group through, only those trained in combat," he instructed. "There's no telling what defenses remain active after all these centuries."
Melda nodded. "Very well." She turned to walk away, but after taking a step she turned around. "My Lord, I just wanted to say...thank you for giving me this chance. I know I was raised among the shems, but I am ready to prove myself to the People."
Solas bowed his head to her. "You've done well, da'len," he praised.
"Th-thank you, I-I mean ma serannas," she stammered. Her accent made her elvish clumsy and forced, but still she said it with pride. "I shall not fail you." With that, she returned to her work, making sure the excavation went smoothly.
Solas watched her go. What he was looking for had to be here. One of the Foci. Not just any either, he meant Dirthamen's main one. His nephew hadn't used it during the war once and he couldn't imagine Dirthamen leaving it at the main temple. Out of all of Dirthamen's temples this one had been the most hidden. Even if he was going off an old memory of Dirthamen's personality, it made sense for him to hide his Foci here. A place which had been solely Dirthamen's. Falon'Din had never set foot in this place. No worshipers of his had come here. It was one of the only temples dedicated just to Dirthamen.
Out of all the others, Dirthamen had the most magical knowledge. It had been Dirthamen who had come up with the theory of the eluvians. Then with Solas's aid had refined them and finally taken the idea to June who had set to work, again with Solas, to create the pathways. The fact remained without Dirthamen, much of how Elvhenan had worked would never had happened.
Even if Dirthamen's Foci wasn't here then there would be something left of his nephew's vast magical knowledge. A hint to put Solas on the right path or even another artifact which would aid him. If not, then perhaps his nephew had more foresight than he believed.
* ~ X ~ *
Each step sent pain lancing up through Mahvir's left leg. He kept his pace even as he led the way further into the temple. They had left the waterlogged passages a little ago and now moved through a part of the temple which had never seen the flood.
He knew with each step the sentinels had survived. He could feel eyes on them, hidden within the shadows. Yet, none appeared. Perhaps they were curious as to what this group was doing and wished to gather more information before attacking. They didn't recognize Mahvir as Dirthamen for which he was grateful beyond belief. Yet, he also knew they would do everything in their power to stop this group from claiming the artifact which lay here.
"Mahvir." A gentle hand touched his shoulder. "Your leg is hurting, isn't it? Maybe I could help. I've recovered enough that maybe I could use some healing magic."
Mahvir slowed a little. "I'm fine, Lady Nimwen, conserve your magic." He gave her a soft smile.
"Please, just call me Nimwen. I'm no lady. Technically I'm not even an Inquisitor anymore, since the Inquisition serves Leliana," Nimwen chuckled.
"It is out of respect I call you 'lady.' If you find the title offensive, I will stop." Mahvir bowed his head, long strands of hair falling around him. He would have to use a knife to cut his hair back to shoulder length. Whenever he used Fear or Deceit in that manner his hair returned to being waist length. A length he had worn his hair at for many, many centuries. It was harder to manage long hair while traveling.
"It's not that I find it offensive, I just don't see myself as anyone's Lady, least of all yours. Though I do suppose I'm technically a Comtesse," Nimwen noted. "Now that, I really can't believe."
Mahvir chuckled. "And thus you are Lady Nimwen." He gave a slight bow of his head. It wasn't a deeper bow because Fear was still asleep on his shoulder. The last thing any of them needed was the raven waking when he hit the ground. "And besides, Solas was once a king," he whispered to Nimwen. He was careful to keep it so that only she and perhaps Cassandra could hear him.
"King Solas," Nimwen mused. "I still can't wrap my head around it. He was an elven king, and just two years ago he slept on a couch and spent his time painting the walls." She bowed her head. "I loved watching him paint," she said quietly. "I'm a horrible artist, but he let me help him mix the paints and I'd hand him his brushes or tell him whether the lines were straight." She sighed. "I miss seeing his murals. There are thousands of paintings in Val Royeaux but none of them can compare."
"You will be able to see that one day," Mahvir assured her. "No matter what I will aid you so Lorien can know her father. The real him and not the man who is devoured by his own guilt." He chuckled and shook his head. "Ir abelas, Lady Nimwen. I just thought on what you said about the couches. I was a king and I sleep on the ground now and spend time carving toys for elvhen children. Who one was in the past, defines them in certain ways and doesn't matter in others. In many ways, he is still the man I knew growing up and, in other ways, he isn't."
"I suppose so," Nimwen said. She blinked. "Wait, you carve?"
"Where did you think the raven I gave Lorien came from? I told you I have no money." Mahvir laughed. "Yes, I carve. The raven was a quick toy. I am working on another for Lorien that will much better."
"You are too kind," Nimwen smiled. "Lori is lucky to have you for a brother."
"My thanks." Mahvir bowed his head to her. He held up a hand as he stopped walking. Before them were two massive stone doors. "These doors should take us into the chambers where the People paid their respects to Dirthamen," he stated.
The doors were sealed with magic however and he frowned. The last time he had been here no such wards had been in place.
Mahvir limped forward. He stopped and ran his staff along the edge of the wall. There was a switch would open the doors, but it was hidden and only he and the sentinels here knew where it was.
"I wonder if there will be tests, like the ones in the Temple of Mythal," Cassandra pondered.
"Are there?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.
"The doors are sealed," Hawen spoke instead of Mahvir. "I can feel the magic coming from them. Is there another way around?"
Mahvir found the location of the switch and started to dig away the layers of grime covering it. His staff sank into the stone and the doors creaked open.
"How did you know where to find that?" Cassandra asked, eyeing him with suspicion.
"I know everything." Mahvir was managed a small smile as he looked at the Seeker. "I thought I established that before we entered the temple?"
Cassandra made a noise of disgust. "Ugh, you remind of Varric."
"You say it as if that were a bad thing," Nimwen teased.
"Don't you start as well."
Deceit launched herself from Mahvir's staff. "You know Varric! The genius who wrote This Shit is Weird?" The raven landed on Cassandra's shoulder. "You have to introduce me!"
"Get back here!" Mahvir snapped at the demon. "She doesn't have to do anything of the sort and you are bugging her."
The raven grumbled. She flew back over to Mahvir's staff. "Fine, but you're going to get me a meeting with him even if it kills you."
"Hold on, you read Varric's books?" Cassandra asked. "Have you read Hard in Hightown?"
"He has more!" At once Deceit was looking at Mahvir. "Mahvy, Mahvy, Mahvy! You have to get them! I want to read!"
"You're going to make me read all of them just so you can sit on my head and read them as well, aren't you?" Mahvir sighed. He didn't much want to read every book written by the dwarf.
"No," Deceit lied. She blinked at him.
Mahvir snorted. "Right?"
"In that case, I would recommend Hard in Hightown as well as Tale of the Champion, they are his best," Cassandra said.
"But what about his best best?" Nimwen asked, a cat-like grin on her face.
A tinge of red came to the Seeker's cheeks. "No."
"You would have the gall to deny poor Deceit the pinnacle of Varric's works?" Nimwen fake-gasped. "I thought better of you Cassandra."
"You are cruel, Inquisitor."
"I'll have the gall to deny her," Mahvir stated. He shuddered. "I don't read romances." He limped towards the doors. "Shall we continue?"
"Is that bird talking?" the hunter asked.
"Romance!" Deceit hopped onto Mahvir's head and pecked him. "You have a nerve, Mahvy! I want the romance."
"Ouch!" Mahvir swipt at Deceit. "Get off my head."
Deceit leapt over his arm and pecked him again. "Romance!" Peck. "Romance!" Peck.
"Fine, stop pecking me!"
Nimwen burst into laughter. "Oh, Mahvir, I'm so sorry. You have my sympathy."
"You shouldn't talk, you like Swords and Shields as well," Cassandra pointed out.
Nimwen sputtered. "I-that's not...how did you know?"
"I am no fool, Nimwen, did you think I wouldn't notice them disappearing from and reappearing at random?"
Nimwen looked away, her pale cheeks pink.
"Perhaps this is a topic for a later date?" Mahvir stated. Romances. He shuddered again.
"Agreed," Keeper Hawen said with a shake of his head. He rubbed his eyes.
"Right, right," Cassandra added, returning to her serious self once more. "So, as I asked earlier, Mahvir, will there be any sort of Trials once we get inside?"
"The trials are how the ancient elvhen paid respects to all eight of them," Mahvir told her. It was hard to avoid saying "creator" or "evanuris," but he knew he wasn't a god and thus wouldn't say "creator." He didn't want to offend the two Dalish and thus didn't say "leader." "So, most likely there are trials."
"Romance." Deceit had returned to Mahvir's staff, her eyes now dreamy. "I can't remember the last time I got to read one."
Mahvir made a face. Considering the only time that bird got to read anything was when he was, he knew it had been some centuries since she last got a romance.
"Mahvir, if you are uncomfortable with those sort of books, I could read them for Deceit," Nimwen offered.
"Mahvy is the only one I read from the head of!" Deceit snapped her beak and held her head high, her stance offended. "You, little mortal, aren't Mahvy."
"Be nice." Mahvir tapped his staff.
Deceit let out a caw of shock when she almost lost her grip.
Nimwen's eyes were wide. "I-I apologize," she said quietly. She regained her composure, but there was still a twinge of hurt lurking in her eyes. "Forget I asked," she mumbled.
"My apologies, Lady Nimwen. She meant nothing by it." Mahvir wanted to do more to help Nimwen, but this was far from the place.
He stopped at the entrance to the first trial. A short set of stairs was flanked by two golden ravens. There was a spirit, or more over, a shadow of a being now waiting for them there. To call it a spirit would be a lie. It had been crafted using magic for the sole purpose of asking the first questions in the trials.
Mahvir turned to the others. "I'll head up the stairs last." His leg pulsed with hot pain. A dull reminder he would be slow. It was only three steps, but still he would hold the others up.
Nimwen looked at him with silent concern.
"I'm fine, Lady Nimwen. I will just be slow." Mahvir turned back to the steps.
Hawen and the hunter had already moved up them. Both marveled at the sight of the trial. There was a wonder in them which made Mahvir's heart twinge with regret. In the same moment, he had made the choice to never tell the People the truth. They needed the idea of the creators. It was something which gave them hope and to tell them the truth would tear the People apart. He could regret the past all he wanted, but to take such a thing from them, even if the real people they worshiped were monsters, would do exactly what he had sworn to never do. It would harm the People he loved.
"What is that spirit doing?" Nimwen asked.
"It's not a spirit. Something close to it, but not one." Mahvir shifted a little so he was putting all of his weight on his right leg. "Right now it's waiting all of us to mount the steps."
"Then let's go," Nimwen said, following behind Cassandra.
Mahvir limped after them. He used his staff to pull himself up the steps.
Only when he had joined the others did the "spirit" speak. "Welcome," it spoke in common rather than elvish, "have you come to pay respects to Dirthamen?" It had a female voice as it looked at each of them.
"Yes," Nimwen said.
"Then a test of your knowledge is required to proceed. Answer three questions correctly and you may enter the next chamber. First question: before aneth ara was a greeting, what was it used for?" it asked.
"Mahvir, do you have this?" Nimwen asked.
"I thought you would know, don't you still have the voices from the Well?" Cassandra asked.
"I do, but they don't know everything."
"I know the answer," Mahvir stated. This felt like cheating, but it would get them through the trials without angering anyone or insulting the Dalish. "Aneth ara was used as a way for the People to know a place was safe from the eyes of Forgotten during the First War. If the phrase wasn't spoken, the People would know the place was under the control of the Forgotten. Later, after the defeat of the Forgotten Ones, it was translated into an informal greeting."
"Correct." It bowed its head to them. "Second question: which of the nine generals sealed the Forgotten and won the First War?"
"It was Solas," Nimwen replied.
"I thought Fen'Harel sealed the Forgotten Ones?" the hunter asked, looking confused.
"Correct. General Solas led a group into the Forgotten Ones' domain. Only he and two others made it out alive." It told them. "Third question: after the fall of the Forgotten which of the nine started the construction of Arlathan?"
"Was it June?" Nimwen whispered to Mahvir.
"Yes," he confirmed in a whisper.
"It was June," Nimwen said to it.
"June sought a place for the People to forget the war and thus created the designs for Arlathan." It bowed its head to them. "The way is clear."
The doors opened permitting the group to proceed into the next chamber.
"Who was Solas? I could have sworn the answer would have been Fen'Harel?" the hunter asked as they moved towards the door.
"Perhaps such things are best left as a mystery to time." Mahvir bowed his head to the hunter.
The next room wasn't too larger. It was only just big enough for the group to enter. On a platform before the door was a large star shaped item.
"Nobody touch it," Cassandra warned them. "I will not die by a cliche."
"What is it for?" Nimwen asked Mahvir.
Mahvir chuckled. "It's not harmful, Seeker." He limped up onto the platform and touched the star. At once it fell into hundreds of tiny pieces across the stone pedestal it had rested on. "It's a puzzle."
"We are to solve a puzzle?" Cassandra asked.
"I'll take this over fighting undead any day," Nimwen said. "It can't be too hard, right? The five of us are sure to get this done."
Mahvir wasn't certain if he should cheer at her enthusiasm or laugh at her saying the puzzle wasn't hard. The nine sided star this large had stopped many of the People from ever getting passed this point. Those who had spent days to weeks in this chamber figuring it out.
"If you wish, I can put it together," Mahvir said with a slight bow.
"Let me try it first," Nimwen insisted. "Dorian showed me puzzles and now I love them. If there is an elven puzzle you'll be sure I'm doing it."
Mahvir shrugged. There was space enough for two at the pedestal.
"I will aid you, Inquisitor." Hawen moved up as well.
"All right, we have the two." Mahvir limped over to the side of the room and settled himself on the floor. "You might want to sit, Hunter, Seeker. This will take awhile." He pulled out the body of the current carving he was working on and unwrapped it from the layers of cloth. The body was as long as his hand and almost as wide. He was working on hollowing it out. Thus he pulled out a long tool that ended in a looped piece of sharpened metal.
"Alright, how should we do this…" Nimwen mumbled to herself as she and the Keeper examined the star.
"How long will that take them?" Cassandra asked, taking her sword out to clean.
"It is said that it took many who came here weeks to solve," Mahvir replied. He blew on the wood to get the scarps out. "Others simply gave up and left." He frowned. "This might be why Dirthamen was called mysterious… I hadn't thought about it before now."
"I thought he's trials would have more to do with the secrets of the People," the hunter said from where she leaned against the wall. "That first one was triva and this is a puzzle. Why?"
"Knowledge is but another secret," Mahvir told the child.
"Knowledge that is kept secret only breeds corruption," Cassandra said. "Those who deceive only serve to bring more problems than the ones they intended to fix."
"True enough." Mahvir bowed his head. "To have knowledge and never share what you know is a way for problems to fester and grow. A simple piece can lead to a brother turning on a brother. Or even the downfall of an organization. Yet, to have knowledge and to truly understand what knowledge you hold are two entirely different matters. One might hold a piece of information, but without understanding, it is simply a piece of information with no way to act upon it. Thus deemed useless.
"When knowledge is held by the right person and used wisely, it is then something which can grow and make a group great." Mahvir moved his tool so as to start working on where the first leg would attach to the toy. He had hollowed out where the moveable head would go just enough so that he could reach that part from the first two legs.
"I agree," Cassandra said, a note of surprise in her voice. "I've learned what happens when the truth is kept only by the powerful, who use it to control those under them. I don't suppose you know about the Seekers of Truth?"
"They were once the original Inquisition some eight hundred years ago. In the twentieth year of the Divine Age the Chanty managed to convince the original Inquisition to join under its banner. Thus the group split into two orders: the Seekers of Truth and the Templars. The Seekers were the elite of the two groups, chosen to ferret out corruption within the Circles of Magi and Templar Order or even within the Chantry itself. Does that answer your question, Seeker?"
"You are well read." Cassandra sighed. "We truly were elite once. But then the one we trusted to lead us gave us up to slaughter. I have spent the past two years trying to contact the last Seekers who remain. The Seeker's Tome, the source of all our secrets and knowledge, had been kept only by the Lord Seeker. So many things were swept under the rug, important things we all should have known, kept away to keep us in line. As I rebuild the order, I've vowed that every Seeker must read from the book. There shall be no more secrets."
"It is sad to see those in power still abuse the role. Yet, knowledge has always been something which can easily corrupt the mind of the holder or making them hid the truth in shadow out of fear." Mahvir thought of how he had hidden the truth about having a different father from his brother. How he had feared his brother's rejection of him if such knowledge came to light. "I hope you seceded where others have failed, Seeker. The world could do with a true group of noble seekers."
"Thank you." Cassandra looked at Mahvir. "I have not treated you as well as I should. While my priority was keeping Nimwen safe, she was right. I apologize for raising my sword to you."
"I took no offense, Seeker. You're far from the first person to do so and you won't be the last." Mahvir smiled at her. "I am often judged by the blood I share with others. I've grown rather used to it."
"Family often makes it hard for your own name to stand out, though I feel you may have endured worse than I," Cassandra replied. "I've found the only solution is to let your actions speak loud enough to drown out blood or family crests. It does not always work, but it's the most effective approach I've found."
"I find not mentioning it and just being me works just fine as well." Mahvir worked the tool so it striped a long piece of wood in a semi-circle. "Though, it does help when your family doesn't have a family name tied to it." He looked towards the Keeper and Nimwen. "How goes the puzzle?"
"This is impossible!" Nimwen groaned. "What evil person designed this terrible thing?" She blinked, as if realizing what she said. "I mean, what genius designed this terrible thing?" She chuckled nervously.
Mahvir chuckled. "I am certain Dirthamen would take no offense, Lady Nimwen." Mahvir wrapped the carving back in its layers of cloth. He put it and the tool away before he struggled to his feet. "Would you like me to join you?" he asked.
"I've had enough of this puzzle. You're welcome to take my place." The Keeper moved away from the pedestal.
"My thanks, Keeper." Mahvir bowed his head. He limped over to join Nimwen. Not to his shock they hadn't gotten far.
"Save me from myself," Nimwen asked, stepping aside to let him near the star.
Mahvir frowned and leaned his staff to one side.
Deceit took off and moved so she was perched above them to watch. Fear still slept on Mahvir's shoulder, seeming unaware of everything happening around him.
The first thing Mahvir did was sort the pieces. Then, he was able to pull the pieces out and place them together. He hadn't found this puzzle hard in many centuries. Granted he was also the creator of this puzzle so he couldn't really talk.
It took him a little under an hour to finish the puzzle. The last piece clicked into place and he stepped back. "That should do it."
"You are amazing," Nimwen said. "How did you even do it? I had no idea what I was doing."
Mahvir rubbed the back of his head. "It's a matter of practice?" he gave a lame answer which was a half question. It felt weird to be praised over this. He had created the puzzle. The idea of it coming from when Solas had made small ones for him as a child. He had wanted harder and harder ones from Solas and eventually just ended up creating his own, but those had still seemed too easy. He couldn't remember ever finding puzzles hard. Enjoyable, perhaps a little of a challenge, but truly hard? Never, in memory.
"So, what now, is there a third room?" asked Nimwen.
"Let's see." Mahvir limped forward.
Deceit returned to his staff.
"Let's go," Cassandra said, sheathing her now clean sword as she stood.
Mahvir fell in behind Nimwen as she led them into the next room. The room mirrored that of the others after the trials. Stone guardians remained stone on either side of the door. Gold, though tarnished lined the walls along with the guardians. Since they had passed the trials and not broken down the doors, the stone remained unmoving. The hall was light by pillars with fire blazing at the tops. At the end of the hall was the place where the "god" of the temple, if here, would have greeted those loyal to him or where the current High Priest would have. Instead it was empty. Yet the feeling of eyes on them grew with each step they took into the room.
The doors closed behind them.
"Ready yourselves," Nimwen warned them in a whisper. She already had her hand on Shockmaw, ready to whip the staff from her back.
"Venavis!" a clear voice called from above.
Mahvir looked up to see a woman had strode to stand where the priest would have in the past. A long, tattered coat covered her purple tinged, ancient armor.
"You shouldn't be here." Her sharp, pale blue eyes flashed in the light of the fire. Vallaslin which marked her as a sentinel of Dirthamen crinkled as she narrowed her eyes. "Who are you? How did you get passed the wards?"
"We completed the Trials," Nimwen explained. "We have shown respect for this temple. We have not come to harm neither it nor you."
Mahvir knew the woman. He glanced behind him to see a few others had appeared to block their way out. There were only three there and another four guarded the other two doors. Eight remained. Eight out of around one hundred sentinels. His heart twisted. They had stayed. Why had they stayed? Nothing but death remained here for them.
"Those aren't the wards I speak of, quick child." The woman folded her arms across her chest. "The main door was sealed so none could pass. How did you know how to get through them? None but the eight of us who remain know the secrets of this place."
Nimwen's eyes flickered to Mahvir. She looked at him, questioning.
It clicked. He remembered her name. "I opened the doors," he limped forward as he looked up at her. He knew the moment his eyes met hers she would recognize him.
The woman's eyes grew wide. "You're alive," the words were laced with shock.
"Are they ancient elves?" Mahvir heard the hunter whispered the question to Nimwen.
"They are sentinels. They guard the temples of whoever they serve."
The woman moved from where she had stood back into the room beyond. A few moments later she strode out of the doors to the left. She raced over to Mahvir and the next moment he was in a tight embrace. "Hahren, you're alive," she whispered.
Fear shrieked at her. He wiggled out of the hold and landed on her arm. "Rude! Right when I was dreaming of scaring a child too."
"Poor oaf, never getting passed that point in his silly dreams." Deceit cawed in laughter.
"You know this woman?" Cassandra asked Mahvir.
"He knows all of us." The other sentinels had moved away from the doors. Their weapons were now sheathed. The one who had spoken was a man who had been but a boy when Dirthamen had fled Falon'Din's betrayal. "Hahren, Falon'Din came and told us you were killed. What happened?"
Cassandra raised a brow. "Falon'Din? Inquisitior, is that not the name of the elven gods?"
"Yes," Nimwen responded, dread in her eyes.
"Falon'Din is the Guide for the Dead," Hawen explained. "It is said he and Dirthamen were twins."
"They were at that," the male sentinel confirmed Hawen's words.
"I'll explain everything later, Atisha," Mahvir told the girl who still hugged him. "For now we need the artifact left here."
She pulled back from him. Her blue eyes intent. "I understand." She bowed her head.
"So, those elvhen digging are here for that?" asked the man.
"If he says they are, then they are," Atisha told the other. She turned to Nimwen and the others. "Ir abelas, I didn't recognize who it was you traveled with."
"It is fine," Nimwen replied.
"I still don't understand, how do they know Mahvir, and why would they just give him the artifact?" Cassandra questioned.
Mahvir looked at Atisha, telling her not to speak his old name with his eyes.
"Each of us are among those he rescued," the man stated. He glanced at Mahvir. There was a look of question in his eyes. "We are-"
"Let us just say, he is worthy and leave it at that," Atisha interrupted the other. She shot the other a glare. "This way." She started off, then paused. "Only two of you may follow. The human and female elf with black hair. Mahvir as well," she added.
"Why are the Keeper and the hunter not allowed to come?" Cassandra inquired.
Nimwen flashed the Seeker a glance that said not to question it.
"You are loyal to the black haired elf and she is trusted by," Atisha paused, "Mahvir. If I asked you to stay, you wouldn't."
Mahvir moved at the girl who stayed at his side despite his slow pace. "You shouldn't have stayed, da'len," he told her once he was out of earshot of Hawen and the hunter.
"Why did you?" asked Nimwen.
"Falon'Din came to us and told us he had killed Dirthamen and thus we were now to serve him. That all the knowledge within the temple was now his," the man replied. Dirthamen remembered he had taken the name Vir, meaning path. "We told him we served only Dirthamen and when he grew violent, killing many of our brethren to get at the secrets here, we sealed the temple. We didn't think you still lived or we would have searched for you. Ir abelas, hahren." Vir bowed his head to Mahvir.
"Wait a minute…"
"Cassandra, wait."
"Are you saying that-"
"Cass, please before you overreact-"
"-he is Dirthamen?"
Nimwen jumped between the Seeker and Mahvir. "Cassandra, remember what we talked about earlier," Nimwen reminded her.
"You're telling me that he is one of the evanuris, the elven mage-kings who even Solas felt were corrupt?"
"He wasn't with them!"
Mahvir stopped and turned to the Seeker. "Seeker, I left months before the others killed Mythal. My brother had learned we didn't share the same father and turned on me, trying to kill me for his own gain. So, I left. I am not saying what I did back then was just or uncorrupt. Or that I was a good person."
Atisha scowled at this. "You did much to help the People without the notice of your brother and the others. You brought those they would have killed here, to hid them and raise them away from the blades the others held to our throats." She glared at Cassandra. "We are not his slaves. We wear the vallaslin as a way to remain undetected. We are loyal to the man who protected and raised us."
Vir had moved so he was guarding Mahvir. His eyes locked on Cassandra and one hand resting on his dagger.
Cassandra turned to Nimwen. "I hope you know what you are doing," she said gravely.
"I do." Nimwen turned to Mahvir. "So, where is this artifact of yours?"
Mahvir looked from the Seeker to Nimwen. "There." He pointed up a flight of long, broken steps.
"Some idiot designed the temple poorly," Vir stated to Nimwen.
"I can see that," Nimwen responded, eyeing the stairs. "I would have assumed that would have been on a list of what not to do."
"Oh, it was." Mahvir moved towards the steps. "Then Falon'Din took it off the list and added 'place eluvian in chambers,' so they listened to him."
"We should make haste, before the others get through," Cassandra said.
"I will meet you at the top then, Seeker. Haste isn't my strong point when it comes to stairs." Mahvir gave her a small, weak smile. Stairs where now the bane of his existence. When Falon'Din had taken it off the list of what not to place in the temples, Mahvir hadn't had a bad leg or lungs worsened by a fire. Now, well, it would take him awhile to climb these.
"Let's go," Nimwen said, starting up the steps.
Mahvir started at the same time the Seeker did. By the time the seeker was at the top of the steps he had made it up a fourth of the way. He had to stop there. He leaned against his staff, focusing on easing the tightness in his breathing and the pain in his leg. He started up again. Each step he used his staff to pull him up, holding to it with both hands.
Atisha and Vir stayed a few steps behind him.
"Mahvir," Nimwen whispered to him. "If your breathing acts up, let me know, alright?"
"It's just steps," Mahvir managed to say. Then he had to focus on what he was doing or he's breathing would cause him to collapse instead of make it to the top of the steps.
Minutes dragged by and he had stopped again to try and ease the pain growing in his chest. He pulled out one of the plants even knowing it won't help much. They hadn't even made it halfway up the long flight.
"Go on ahead, the seeker is waiting for you." Mahvir managed to keep the words even.
"Is something wrong?" Cassandra asked from the stair top.
"N-no, we're fine," Nimwen lied.
Seeming unconvinced, Cassandra strode down to them. "You four are taking your time," the Seeker said, but with eyes on Mahvir.
"I did mention stairs aren't my strong point," Mahvir gave the seeker a small smile, his tone friendly. "I can get to the top if you're patient, Seeker."
"Unfortunately, I am not patient."
"What are you doing?" Nimwen asked when Cassandra grabbed Mahvir.
Mahvir looked at her hands. He had a sinking feeling on what was about to happen. He didn't try to fight the Seeker. She was far stronger than he was.
"Making haste."
The next moment, Mahvir was jerked up off the ground. He found himself draped across the seeker's shoulders. Her armor bit into his hip and ribs. He forced himself to relax. She held to his arms and legs.
"What are you doing?" Vir demanded.
Atisha held out her arm to stop the other from attacking Cassandra. "If hahren isn't fighting her, it will be fine," her voice was soft; yet, stern.
"Sorry," Nimwen whispered to Mahvir, smiling sheepishly.
"It's fine," he muttered back.
The group made it up the stairs faster than if she hadn't carried Mahvir. Though, there was a part of him which was rather annoyed he had gotten so slow she had to carry him up the stairs in the first place.
"Cass, be careful," Nimwen urged. She hovered around the Seeker like a mother hen.
"Did you expect me to toss him?" Cassandra asked as she, carefully, set Mahvir down. "I can be reasonable, Inquisitor."
"I know." Nimwen eyed Mahvir up and down, as if expecting to find wounds from being carried.
Mahvir nodded to the seeker. The feeling of Nimwen's eyes on him, made Mahvir shift a little. No one had looked at him for injury like this before and it was rather disconcerting. He turned his attention to the doors before them, more to try and shove aside the feeling than anything else. He felt Deceit return to her perch on his staff while Fear was looking down from the door top.
"Now, that was the best thing to see," Fear clicked his beak and let out a few caws of laughter. "Do so again, Mortal Quick Child, it was well worth being displaced to watch."
"I don't think I shall become used to that," Cassandra said, eyeing the ravens wearily. "What are they, actually?"
"Your understanding of demons," Mahvir stated as he watched Atisha and Vir take over the opening of the heavy double doors. "Except they are ancient now and thus have more personality to them than is commonly seen in other demons of Fear or Deceit. Neither can shift back to their original form and they bound to me until I die."
"Then we die." Fear snapped his beak in annoyance. "Thus we will never let you die, Dirthamen." His eyes eyes gleamed as burning coals from above them.
Mahvir didn't react to the jib on his greatest fear. He was used to the demon reminding him his fear was his fate.
Cassandra opened her mouth as if to speak. Instead she sighed. "I'm not even going to argue. So long as they are under your control, we will have no problem."
"Thank you, Cassandra," Nimwen replied, sounding relieved. "And think of it this way, no demon who's a fan of Varric's books can be all bad, right?"
Cassandra groaned and began to walk.
"Does this mean I can't meet Vair-Vair?" Deceit asked. Her wings and head drooped. "I was looking forward to it too."
Mahvir sighed and rubbed his eyes. "A topic for later discussion, I think." He limped after the Seeker and into the chambers beyond.