Chapter Sixteen
They have almost arrived at the Circle Tower. It's been teasing her for at least an hour, the tall spires giving her hope. She is so close to home and to Cullen. After months on the road and at Ostagar and almost dying a dozen times she can almost smell him on the wind. She has a tough time not running ahead of the group. She does not think that this might be the last time she's ever out of the Circle again in her life. She doesn't think about the things she's seen; only the residual mental impact is given thought. It pushes her forward and hurries her steps.
The Tower is safe. There are no Darkspawn. She will be sheltered and she can get back to her life. Whatever is left, that is. No Shuul. No Neria. No Jowan. But Cullen. She will have him back and she thinks about how wide his smile will be when he sees her and that relief that he's sure to have, Greagoir be damned. Rules be damned, too.
As the small group clears the last hill and the Tower arrives fully on the horizon she can feel the air shift around her. It's almost imperceptible. She is filled with a sense of loss and dread and she knows. She can feel it; something has gone horribly wrong.
The templars slow as their steps lead them to the docks and the one lone guard that stands over the only way into the Tower. The man's armor is a mess and Solona doesn't recognize the empty eyes that stare back at them. Rylock approaches the guard and the two exchange words.
When Rylock turns back, there's a worry in her face that Solona has not seen during the days she's traveled with the woman. Her expression is concern with a dash of failure. Next to her, Anders shifts his weight. He turns towards her and Solona can feel large fingers seeking hers. He grabs her hand and holds tight. She steps closer to him, the angle awkward with both of their hands tied.
"Something is terribly wrong." Anders' voice echoes her earlier thoughts and she glances up at him to find his eyes fixed on the top of the Tower. There is a faint line of smoke coming from the upper rooms. The Harrowing Chamber, it looks like. When he looks down his own expression is so similar to Rylock's. Dread sits heavy in her heart.
"Men! Get the prisoners loaded onto the boat." Metal hands lead them both to their waiting transport. Solona doesn't even try to correct the misnomer. She is still no prisoner. The rope binding her wrists burns the skin there.
Her third crossing of the Lake is deathly quiet. All eyes watch the rapidly growing Tower and the silence is making her even more nervous. She moves closer to Anders and is dismayed when his earlier showing of support is not repeated. Her words from the night before are still heavy between them and whatever reasons he may have had to seek comfort from her on the dock are long gone.
She whispers to him again that she's sorry, if only to break the silence. The templar in front of her, on edge and nervous to the point of shaking, whips his head around and tells her to shut her trap. Anders still doesn't look at her.
The boat docks. There is no one to greet them as they climb the stairs to the main entrance. At the doors, Rylock waves them back and slips inside by herself. A breeze picks up and Solona smells the smoke from the Tower for the first time. It reminds her of the camp at Ostagar and the bodies the soldiers burned after skirmishes. Tainted. That's what it smells like. And it still makes her want to vomit.
Rylock appears again a moment later, just her head through the door telling the men to bring them inside.
She and Anders both take a deep breath as they cross the threshold. Returned. Imprisoned. At the moment there is no difference for either of them.
The entrance is almost completely abandoned when the group enters. The two mages are both surprised to see the blood on the walls and the small pile of armor that sits next to the Circle's Quartermaster. Templar Bran, the constant guard at the entrance for years now, is the only other person in the lobby. There is quiet here, everything is far too quiet, disturbed only by the sound of wind whipping through the building. Solona thinks there's a window or four open somewhere.
Heavy and familiar footsteps sound just around the corner and Rylock holds her men in place as Greagoir appears. He is haggard; Anders inhales sharply at the sight of the man. As he nears, the templars stand at attention and Rylock salutes. The gesture is returned as the calculating eyes of the Knight-Commander take in the group.
When his eyes land on Solona, she meets his gaze. He frowns and stares too long for her comfort. It sends a shiver through her frame and she has to look away. "Where did you find that one?" He sounds tired.
"Lothering, Knight-Commander. She claims to have been at Ostagar."
There is a space where Greagoir contemplates Rylock's words. Solona can see him shift his weight, his boots scraping against the stone floor. "Well, cut her loose. Bran, take the girl up to the First Enchanter."
Rylock gives an affirmation and Solona is suddenly free of her bonds. She rubs her wrists as Bran appears at her elbow. The templar takes her arm and leads her farther into the Tower.
Behind her, Rylock and Greagoir are talking softly and she takes one look behind her; just a glimpse to look at Anders. His face is a mask. Emotionless he stands as Greagoir approaches him. There is an evil glint in the Knight-Commanders eyes and Solona cries out as a heavy hand impacts the other mage's stomach. Bran shoves her ahead again and she loses sight of the group.
Anders yells out, just once, and the sound echoes off the walls around her. The empty halls decorated with blood and entrails both. The templar at her back pushes her again when she falters at the anguished cry. She closes her eyes, feet still carrying her down the familiar path to the stairwell. Tears burn, held in check but present.
Why had she ever wanted to come back? She should have helped Anders escape again, insisted that he take her with her. She could have seen the world, she could have-
"Solona?" Her eyes pop open at her name and for a moment she's not sure what she's seeing. The mage in front of her should be familiar. The features are mostly the same and yet the face is slack in shock and a long gash runs down the right side of the woman's face. Petra, who had been with the mages at Ostagar, stands at the entrance to the female Apprentice quarters. The hem of her robes is black with blood. At her back a small group of children watch the older women. "How in the blazes did you get here? We thought you were dead."
There is no real love between the two of them. Wynne was never more than a teacher and her apprentice an irritating nuisance when Solona failed at producing even the simplest healing spell. It is, however, good to see Petra's tentative and amazed smile.
She opens her mouth to respond but Bran nudges her ahead of him, once more. "Keep walking." The man's impatience is wearing thin on her nerves and she is really sick of being shoved this way and that. She is seconds away from turning on him but something in Petra's eyes keeps her mouth shut; there is pure terror reflecting back and it's chilling. Petra slowly moves her head from side to side and Solona is moved away and up the stairs to the second floor.
There is more destruction on the second floor. There are several doors blown off of their hinges, the trademark of powerful spells or a well placed boot. Ash piles litter the floor. She wants to check these piles, just to see what they are, but she knows Bran will have none of that. As they pass by her room, for however short a time, she glances in and sees everything in cinders. Her room had burned.
For a split second she sees the hollow gaze of Cullen in her mind, telling her to never come back. Her dream haunts her next few steps; somehow she had known that something was wrong. Her mind had tried to tell her and she hadn't listened. Of course she hadn't. She'd woken up to Anders and that feeling as his magic had flown through her limbs.
This mental onslaught is chipping away at the wall that has held back her panic and fear. There has been so much pain and death for her. So much. Too much, just too much, going on around her. Bran delivers her without further interruption to Irving's office and she blinks away her distraction as the First Enchanter also calls her name.
"Solona! My child." With his arms open and a wide smile of relief on his face, the First Enchanter embraces her. She's never been terribly close to him either but the familiar smell of potions and magic clinging to him destroys what grip she has on her emotions.
Everything within her crumbles. She cannot hold back the tears or the words that pour from her, describing her journey and the death of Neria and the Darkspawn and what she saw on the road. Oh Maker. She clings to the man that sent her away from here.
It feels like hours before her tears subside and she is sitting at the chair across the desk from Irving's. She has been in this seat many times for various reasons over the years. She feels like a child once more, her legs drawn up to her chest in her seat. Irving has poured a glass of water for her and it sits on the table in front of her.
Her hands are rough as they rub the last of the moisture from her face. She feels better, getting everything out. She has shared most everything with Irving and he is regarding her calmly as she finishes collecting herself. When she finally takes a drink, the cool water is refreshing and rejuvenating, he starts to speak.
"We had an issue here, a few days ago." He pauses and his hand rises to rub his forehead. An issue seems like an understatement from the little she's seen. "There was an uprising. Blood mages." He spits the words and Solona's jaw drops.
"Blood mages? Here in the Tower? How?"
"It was Uldred. He was . . . different when he came back from Ostagar. Something happened there, something terrible. It was- He was changed upon his return. I should have sensed something but he almost had us all convinced that the Wardens had abandoned the field and that we should back Loghain. There were refugees at the dock and the handful of mages that made it back were so badly wounded . . . most didn't make it. And then Wynne showed up with Petra. Petra had apparently been stationed with the Teryn's troops. Your battle idea, so I hear." He tips his head to her.
"Yes, I remember. I hadn't considered what happened to the other mages on the field after we were overrun."
"Petra was almost killed. The Teryn's men cut her up pretty good." Well, that explained the wounds on her face. "Wynne found her and revived her. They returned a week ago and there was an argument." Irving stands and turns away from her. His shoulders are hunched and this no longer appears to be the bastion of strength and patience she remembers. "We had a meeting and Ulred revolted. He had a handful of other mages with him, but they spread so quickly."
He turns to face her again and she sees tears in his eyes now. The image is heartbreaking for her. Solid and honorable Irving.
"Most of the templars were caught on the fourth floors. Wynne and Petra saved a class of young apprentices. There were also a handful in the library that made it out before The Knight-Commander closed off the majority of the Tower. Many did not make it." His weary frame collapses back in his chair and Solona says nothing. She has questions, but right now they can wait.
"If it hadn't been for the Wardens the Tower would have been annulled. But, they arrived in time and saved who they could."
Annulment. It sets her on edge, just hearing the word. "Wait, the Wardens? Some of them survived then?" She thinks of Josef and hopes.
"Two of them. They arrived three days after the revolt. From what Greagoir says they swept in, forbid the Annulment he had planned, and cleared out the Tower. In only a few hours. They left just as quickly too; it's possible you passed them on the road. One of them, the man, was a templar in training before being conscripted and the woman was a Teryn's daughter. Cousland, I think."
The name means nothing to her but she remembers the Almost-Templar and his stoic expression as he'd carried Neria back to the Warden's camp at Ostagar. She can feel the blood draining from her face at the memory.
"So, where does that leave the Tower? What do we do now?" Her words are whispered and she wants to ask other things. Solona thinks of the templars, the memory of that Warden reminding her that she hasn't considered Cullen in all of this. She thinks that if he didn't survive . . . if he died because of a corrupted mage she'll find some way to bring Uldred back to life so she can have the honor of killing him again.
"Greagoir has restricted our movement. The majority of the mages are currently staying in the Apprentice Quarters. All Apprentices are confined to the fourth floor so they can be watched at all times. When you leave you can head back downstairs and take a bunk." He rubs his forehead again, less upset and more contemplative. "With you here that makes six full mages. I would like to get a few classrooms up and functioning so lessons can resume. The younger apprentices are already growing restless."
She feels the aches of her journey, even in this padded seat. The mention of a bunk, of sleep uninterrupted by attack or templar, is so very tempting. She is filthy, however. She can smell the stench of travel and death on herself and it makes her want to gag. "Six mages. What are we going to do with six mages?"
"Sadly this is not the first Tower that's had problems. We will do what we've always done as Magi of the Circle. We rebuild. We have a few apprentices who can be Harrowed soon; they survived an invasion. The Fade should be no problem. Mostly, though, we need to watch ourselves. Absolutely no one can give a templar reason to doubt their devotion to this Circle or their purity. I fear any incident would incite death and mayhem, once more." This sounds like a dismissal and she stands. Irving raises as well, a small yet somehow apologetic smile on his face. "I'll assign you some duty in the morning. However, I insist you clean yourself up and get some sleep. We have time, now that the worst has hopefully passed, and you look exhausted."
She gives him a nod and shifts to go before pausing. Something springs to her mind. "Anders came back with me. He was captured in Redcliffe. While we were being escorted here I got the feeling that he's in for some extreme punishment. I wanted you to know; the templars have been abusing him, I think."
He loses any resemblance of a smile and now he just looks sad. Sad and broken.
Solona gives him a small nod and heads back to the stairs and a warm bath.