Since the last time they'd visited the Hinterlands, it had warmed considerably and everything was in full bloom. The trees were full and the air was heavy with humidity and the scents of nature.
For Velthorn, it felt like home. The sun on his skin, the fragrance of the wind…He'd never known anything else before the Inquisition and now he felt a deep homesickness rise up in his gut.
He couldn't dwell on it for long. They came over the hill and Redcliffe was in sight.
And something had already gone wrong.
"Is this normal?" asked Blackwall, the newest member of their party.
Leliana had expressed concerns to Velthorn about the Wardens being completely absent. No one had seen any of them recently, except for Blackwall. So they trekked to the Hinterlands to find him, then to move on and take Grand Enchanter Fiona's invitation.
At first, Blackwall had been rightfully suspicious, but had warmed up after hearing their piece. When they'd made to leave, having learned nothing save that Blackwall didn't know Wardens were disappearing, the man had stopped them.
Now they all stood outside Redcliffe, staring at a dormant Rift just feet from the closed gates and the anxious guards.
So, either the Rift here was coincidence, or it was somehow placed there.
As they approached, Velthorn's mark sparked beneath his gloves, making his whole hand itch intensely, and the Rift activated at his presence. Demons began to spawn, crawling from the Fade like so many insects.
The guards at the gate drew their weapons, shouting about someone getting help. They needn't have worried. Help was already there.
Volyn had his bow drawn and an arrow ready as soon as the demons fully formed. The others also prepared for a fight.
An arrow buried itself in the Terror that appeared. It let out an unearthly shriek and turned its head toward Volyn, who only drew another arrow and fired, grinning.
Cassandra, Blackwall, and the two gate guards took on another two of the creatures, while Solas, Velthorn, and Varric fired on the Wraiths. All three were finished off by a final chain lightning spell cast by Velthorn.
The Herald turned his attention to the Rift, running forward to get close enough to connect to it. But as he did, he felt the air around him change. Suddenly, everyone around him was moving twice as fast as before.
He stopped dead in his tracks, confused and worried. He felt like he was moving at normal speed, yet everything else around him was moving so much faster. A bird zoomed across the sky. Arrows came so quickly, they seemed like glimmers in the air. What was happening?
The elf continued toward the Rift. Just as suddenly as before, the air changed again and everything was back to normal. For a moment, he was disoriented. He tripped over his own foot as his legs got tangled. But the demons were gone and he had a job to do.
Regaining his footing, he raised his marked hand toward the Rift and felt the connection. It tingled, burned, itched, but he kept his arm raised until the Rift closed and disappeared.
One of the guards breathlessly said, "Maker have mercy! It's over."
Velthorn was still thinking about the strange distortion. "What…was that?"
Cassandra shook her head. "We don't know what these Rifts can do. That one appeared to alter the time around it."
Varric said, "That doesn't sound good."
"The Veil is weaker here than in Haven. And not merely weak, but altered in a way I have not seen," Solas added.
"Like I said," Varric reaffirmed, "Why did these things have to get weirder?"
The guards opened the gate, thanking them over and over for their help.
An Inquisition scout greeted them once inside Redcliffe. "Herald. Seeker. We spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know, no one here was expecting us."
Confused, Velthorn asked, "No one? Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?"
The scout shook his head. "No one, my Lord. If she was expecting us, she's given no sign of it. But we've arranged for the use of the tavern for negotiations either way."
They thanked him and continued in, more perplexed now than ever. They had seen Grand Enchanter Fiona in Val Royaeux. They all knew that. What was going on here?
A mage ran up to them as they descended the hill into the village proper.
"Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies. Magister Alexius is in charge now, but he hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly. You can speak to the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."
He seemed nervous and too eager to please them. He was afraid. But afraid of whom? Them? Or this Magister Alexius?
"Then we'll speak to the Grand Enchanter," Velthorn said.
"Of course," the mage said, "She's waiting in the tavern."
As they came into the village, Volyn pulled his hood lower, hiding his eyes from others and shielding them from the sun. It was too bright today.
"That mage said a Magister was in charge now. Have the rebels allied with Tevinter?" Cassandra asked, directing the question toward the rest of the group.
"That would be the single worst plan they could come up with," Varric said. Blackwall gave a gruff noise of agreement.
"Let's just hold our judgements until we figure out what's going on," Velthorn said.
"That would be wise," Solas agreed, "However, I doubt it is a coincidence that a Magister has shown up here at the same time as an altered Rift."
Volyn vaguely knew what a Magister was, from reading some of the books in the Chantry back at Haven. But none of those books had mentioned time-altering magic.
"Tavern," Varric said, pointing toward one of the buildings. The painted wooden sign hanging on a pole read "Gull and Lantern".
"I think I'll wait out here," Volyn said, "I don't want to ruin any negotiations that might happen by looking like a demon or anything."
"Stay close," Cassandra warned.
"I promise, I'll sit right here on this bench until you return," the vampire assured.
He was reminded of something Cicero once said to him and couldn't help but smile at the memory. Cassandra made her signature disgusted noise, but no further argument.
Volyn looked around with a careful eye. The market was full of people, but many of them were wearing robes and carrying staves. They were not the usual inhabitants, then, but the mages of the rebellion he'd heard about. These people smelled of despair and Volyn kept his eyes peeled for the source of the discomfort.
Upon entering the tavern, people stopped what they were doing to stare. Both Cassandra and Velthorn were wearing armor adorned with the Inquisition's crest, so it was natural that they were recognized. Well, that and Velthorn was a Dalish elf traveling with two humans, a dwarf, and a non-Dalish elf. They were an unusual sight.
Fiona was waiting for them at one of the tables, but stood as they came into view. She looked at them suspiciously.
"Welcome, agents of the Inquisition," she greeted, "What has brought you to Redcliffe?"
"We're here because of your invitation back in Val Royeaux," Velthorn said.
She shook her head. "You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave."
Both parties seemed equally confused.
"Then who did we speak to?" Cassandra said.
"I…I don't know." A strange look passed over her face. "Now that you say it, I feel strange. Whoever, or whatever, brought you here, the circumstances have changed. The free mages have already…pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."
Immediately, Cassandra asked, "Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you? Allying with Tevinter is..." She couldn't even find the words to finish the sentence. The alliance was a death-wish.
Solas added, "We understand you are afraid and desperate, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter."
Velthorn said, "I have to agree. Grand Enchanter—"
Fiona interrupted him. "That is no longer my title. As one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."
The Dalish answered, "Fiona, this is…when did this happen?"
She didn't get the chance to answer. As she opened her mouth to do so, the tavern door opened and all eyes turned.
Two men entered the building, one in red and the other in yellow. The one in red was older and obviously the one in charge. He greeted the Inquisition members with a too-wide smile.
"Welcome, my friends! I apologize for not greeting you earlier."
Fiona said, "Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."
"You are the one they speak of?" the Magister asked, looking to Velthorn, "The one who survived?"
"I am, yes," the young elf replied. He held up his left hand and removed the glove. The mark, looking like cracks in stone under his skin, sparked green.
"Interesting. That's very interesting," the Magister muttered, staring at the strange mark.
"I'd like to know about this alliance you made with the mages," Velthorn asked.
"Of course," the magister replied, and gestured to a table.
Both parties took their seats and the discussion began. They addressed the obvious first, such as the lack of Arl Teagan's men, then moved on to the when and how. Just before getting to the actual negotiations, Felix, the magister's son, suddenly stumbled where he stood. Everyone rose to their feet instantly.
"Felix?" Alexius asked, a genuine look of concern on his face. The only genuine thing about him, Velthorn noted.
Felix tried to say something, but collapsed on Velthorn's smaller frame, startling the elf. The young man crushed something into Velthorn's hand, secretly, quietly, so that no one else would know. The elf held it tight and helped Felix back to his feet. He tried to hide his shock.
"Felix, are you all right?" the magister asked again.
"I'll be all right, Father. I'm so sorry," he apologized.
Alexius turned toward the Inquisition. "I'm so sorry, friends. We will have to continue this at a later date. I shall send word to the Inquisition." He waved a hand at Fiona, a rather dismissing gesture. "I require your assistance at the castle."
In just a few moments, the magister, his son, the Grand Enchanter, and the guards had vacated. The Inquisition members were left fairly speechless amid a crowd of equally quiet guests.
Velthorn unwrinkled the bit of parchment in his palm. "You are in danger. Come to the Chantry."
Varric sighed. "Why can't any of this ever be easy? You know, just walk in, negotiate, create an alliance."
"I think the Creators are laughing at me right now," Velthorn said. "But I think we should check this out. Carefully."
"It's probably a trap," Cassandra said.
"But it is worth a look," Velthorn insisted. His mind was made up.
True to his word, Volyn was still sitting on the bench when they exited the tavern.
"That was the magister, I take it?" the dark elf asked.
Velthorn nodded. "Yes, but the negotiations never happened."
"I heard," Volyn said, "We're off to the Chantry, then?"
"You could hear that?" Blackwall asked in disbelief.
Cassandra answered, "We will explain more about him once we're away from prying ears."
After a moment, the Warden nodded. "All right."
The Chantry at the top of the hill looked forgotten. Ivy covered an entire wall and was overtaking the roof. A coating of moss obscured the features on a statue of Andraste to their left. Nature had taken this place back and no one seemed to have fought it.
Velthorn knew there was a Rift nearby as soon as he came within a foot of the building. His hand told him so, and alerted the rest of the party as well. They drew their weapons before going inside.
They weren't expecting there to be a man inside the Chantry, beating back the demons that started coming from the Rift with his staff as if it were a sword.
As the door shut behind them, the man turned to them, showing a tanned face adorned with a slightly curled mustache.
"Oh good," he called, "You're finally here. Help me close this thing, will you?"
The battle was barely that. Only a few lesser demons came through the Rift and soon enough Velthorn stood at the center, a line of electric green connecting him and the tear in the world. It slammed closed with an explosion of ichor.
"That is fascinating," the unknown man said slowly, looking about himself for any signs of the Rift and finding none. Then he turned back to the elf. "How does that work, exactly?"
Velthorn shrugged. "I dunno. Wave my hand about. Feel some things."
The man laughed. "You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes."
"Essentially," Velthorn said.
Sounding offended, Solas put in, "There is infinitely more to it than that."
"He's right," Velthorn admitted, "But more importantly, who are you? We were expecting Felix to be here."
"Ah, getting ahead of myself, I see," the man replied, "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"
Cassandra looked like she smelled something rotten. "Another Tevinter. Why aren't I surprised?"
Dorian's eyebrows rose. "Suspicious friends you have here."
"You another magister, then?" Blackwall asked.
The man's casual look faded and was replaced with one of contempt. "All right. Let's say this once. I'm a mage from Tevinter, but not a member of the Magisterium. I know Southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you sound like barbarians."
He sighed and went on, "As for Felix, he was supposed to be here. Got caught up with his father, I suppose. That leaves me to explain.
"Felix's father was once my mentor, so my assistance against him should be valuable, as I'm sure you can imagine. So let's start with his claiming the allegiance of the mages out from under you and these Rifts that distort time. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."
Solas spoke up, "That is fascinating, if true. And almost certainly dangerous."
"Yes, it is. And I understand that now more than I ever did," Dorian agreed.
Velthorn thought back to their conversation with the magister. "So…Alexius bent time so he could arrive here just after the Divine's death? How? Why?"
Dorian looked surprised. "You catch on quick. The Rifts here, the ones that twist time? Soon, there will be more and they will appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Aleixus is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world."
"That sounds bad," Varric sighed, for probably the fourth time on this trip alone.
Dorian started pacing, thinking as he talked. "When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. He could never get it to work. You asked why he's doing this. I don't understand it either. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackies? He doesn't need the southern mages, so what's the grand plan?"
"He didn't do it for them."
The group turned to see Felix, who had entered quietly through a side door. He was pale and sickly looking, but looking no worse than he had earlier.
"Took you long enough. Is he suspicious?" Dorian asked.
Felix shook his head. "No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day." He turned back to the Inquisition members. There was supreme sadness in his eyes. "My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves Venetori. And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done to get to you." He pointed to Velthorn.
The elf wasn't really surprised. "Flattering. All this trouble for me?"
"Why should we believe you?" Cassandra asked, forward as she always was. "Alexius is your father, and your mentor. Why would you turn on him?"
"Was my mentor," Dorian corrected.
Felix said, "I love my country, and I love my father, but this? Cults, time magic? What he's doing now is madness. For his own sake, you have to stop him."
Dorian put in, "It would also be nice if he didn't rip a hole in time. There's already a hole in the sky."
Velthorn took a moment to think. "What can you tell us about the Venetori?"
"I don't know much," Felix confessed, "They're obsessed with you, but I don't know why. It might be about your survival at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."
"And you can close the Rifts," Dorian said, "Maybe there's a connection there. Or they see you as a threat."
Felix turned even paler. "If the Venetori are behind those Rifts and the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought."
Dorian looked to Velthorn. "Well, you know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage." The mage started to take several steps backward. "I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch."
He made to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."
As the man left the room, Felix said quietly, "There are worse things than dying, Dorian." He looked back to the party. "I should get back before my father realizes I was gone. Be careful. You're the only one who can fix my father's mess."
With that, he was gone too, leaving the group to its own devices.
Almost immediately, Cassandra asked, "Are we going to believe that both Alexius' son and apprentice want to betray him?"
"Former apprentice," Velthorn corrected. There was a vast difference in the two.
Solas said, "That they are so willing to betray leaves the question: how willing would they be to betray us?"
"I believe they are telling the truth," Volyn said from where he was leaned against one of the pillars.
"Why?" Cassandra asked.
"Felix is sick, I can smell it on him, but his heart was steady. When people lie, there is a certain quality to the beat that changes. Neither of them changed," the vampire explained.
"You could hear their hearts?" came Blackwall and Cassandra's simultaneous exclamations.
"You know my senses are sharp," the dark elf said dismissively, "Anyway, I think we should trust them. For now."
"Unfortunately, I agree," Solas said, "They may very well be telling the truth and their insight will be invaluable to our cause."
Cassandra nodded. "First, we should get out of Redcliffe. We don't know how far the magister's influence spreads amongst these people."
After returning from the Hinterlands, Blackwall was questioned by Leliana as to what he knew of the Wardens' disappearance. She was disappointed, and perhaps a little relieved, to hear his answer that he knew nothing. She had been expecting the worst.
Then Volyn was properly introduced to the Warden. The mistrust was clear on the human's face, unmasked, but he promised to keep an open mind. So far, Volyn had behaved and was to be treated like any other member of the party.
After the introduction was over and Blackwall had had some time to adjust, Velthorn went to find him, just as he had done with all of his personal companions. If they were to spend time in the field together, they should at least be on speaking terms.
"How does the Inquisition look?" Velthorn asked as he walked up.
The Warden was by the smithy and gazing up at the Breach.
"It looks like a start," Blackwall answered, "It's no army, but Cullen's training them well and as a whole, it looks like resources are being used properly."
"Glad to hear it," the elf said.
The man looked skyward again. "The Breach is so much easier to ignore from far away. Standing here, so close to it…and you walked out of it."
"Well, not that one, but something similar," Velthorn said.
"Hmm. There's still so much we don't know. The Divine, the Breach, and now the Wardens. And you. Where do you fit into all of this?"
"Besides the obvious?" Velthorn asked, raising the marked hand. "I'm not sure. I want to stop the war and straighten out this chaos. There seems to be so much more to it than that, the further we investigate. But for now, that's my goal. And the goal of the Inquisition."
"A worthy goal, and one I'm happy to support." The man looked relieved at Velthorn's answer. "For me, I'll just be satisfied to find the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers."
"Yes, they do," Velthorn agreed.
"I have never heard of the Venetori," Leliana admitted, "But now that we have a name, I will tell my spies to be on the lookout."
"Good. We need to be as prepared as possible. We know next to nothing about them, but they know all about Velthorn," Cassandra said.
"Doesn't everybody these days?" the elf asked with a sigh.
"And there's also the problem with the magister. We can't simply ignore the problem he poses. He is a foreign threat on our soil. The longer he remains, the more rooted he will become," Leliana pointed out.
"He said he would contact us," Velthorn said, "But no mention as to when or how."
"He will likely extend an invitation to the Herald, as he is the face of the Inquisition. We must be prepared for when that happens," Josephine put in.
"Or be prepared for his army of mages to come knock our door down," Cullen said.
"I hope it doesn't come to that," Velthorn said, "But if it does, we should be ready for them. We were building trebuchets, weren't we?"
"Yes. And they're complete. But if we're attacked by mages, I'm not sure how much help they'll be," Cullen answered.
"We have limited resources in comparison," Velthorn said, "but that doesn't mean we won't put up a fight and do our best with what we have."
The rest of them nodded.
"To work then," Cullen said.
Their work began.