It's that time again folks. But let me have a moment to indulge myself and answer my lovely reviews.
Ioialoha: What are you talking about? It is next week
The Invisible Pretender: Oh, I like you...
MirandaBasilisk: Mwahaha!
Snowhelm: I am a shameless tease and that's the way uh huh, uh huh, I like it. Uh huh, uh huh. All shall be revealed.
Right now.
Chapter 21: The Parlour Scene and The Wizards Duel
The town is awake when I enter it again, the people buzzing around. I get a few odd glances before people return to their business. Might be because my clothes are covered in mud. I've been on my back in the mud a few times in the past few hours. Not in the way I'd like to be, but circumstances must.
I don't see any Templars, but that doesn't mean they're out there. They could be watching me. If I was them, I wouldn't approach a mage here out in public. Someone could get hurt. I can't tolerate that, and I hope the Templars feel the same. Hell, it's their jobs to protect these people. I just have a compassionate heart.
I'd go and report to the Hawkes, make sure the Templars haven't moved onto them, or that they haven't fled against my wishes. But If the Templars are following me, the trek out of town would be the perfect time to strike. And I'd be leading them straight to the people I want to keep them away from.
So that's out.
Besides, I have business first. This ends today.
I move towards Miriam, the village Elder. If memory serves, she's the one who asks you to take Sten away in Origins. She was so busy attending to the sick and wounded from the Blight, she was happy to be rid of the Qunari. Presently, she's seen as quite the authority figure, a village elder if you will, and she keeps track of everything and everyone who comes through town and doesn't like any troublemakers let me tell you.
I know this, because she told me so.
She catches sight of me and her eyes narrow, her mouth pursing. She looks around before jerking her head and moving into her small house. I look around me to be sure that I amn't being followed before starting in after her. I see some women by a stall whispering at each other, while shooting obvious glances at me.
Start the clock.
"What hell have you brought into my village Warden?" she demands angrily as I close the door behind me. I don't smile. I'm not in the mood.
"I haven't brought anything. Hell has a habit of finding me," I say in a dead pan. Miriam snorts.
"I can believe that. What is going on?" she inquires much more politely.
"There's an apostate in town trying to set me up. They've stolen all of my belongings, all the proof that I'm a Warden and set me up to be targeted by the Templars. We've already had a run in. If I can't find them, and soon, there's nothing stopping the Templars from hauling me to the Circle. And that's counter productive to my plans," I explain quickly, trying to sum up everything as quick as possible.
Miriam is pensive, stroking her cheek thoughtfully. "The Templars told me that they'd been commissioned to bring in an apostate in the area. They asked for my help, but I didn't help them," she says, some steel in her eyes.
My head cocks and a small smile preys upon my lips. "Because you couldn't, or because you wouldn't?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
Her eyes sparkle. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she says with a slight mischief about her. Then her eyes harden again. "You're a Warden, and my folks taught me to respect your kind, because one day we'd rely on you to survive. I protect my people. If there was any danger to them I wouldn't hesitate to aid the Templars. But the mages whom may have made this town their home have helped it immensely. When there is drought, suddenly we have rain. When there are storms, they are there to help shepard all the livestock away before turning to their own. I daresay that most of the children in this village owe their lives to the mage's wife and daughter."
"I know who you're talking about by the way, if you didn't know," I say with a frown. She carefully avoided naming any names and I noticed that. Good to know she isn't easily trusting, it makes her much easier to work with. "But that's unimportant. We also need to keep them safe, so it's in both of our interests to nab the fucker that's messing with the status quo. Agreed?" Miriam nods her head and I run a hand across my mouth. I've got some stubble, having been unable to shave the past few days. Some on my head as well. But that's all unimportant right now.
"Okay... Apparently there was an elven woman the day that the Commander left. Do you remember her?" I ask, chasing down Carver's lead. I suspect the answer, but I want to be wrong regardless.
"Yes, she was unimpressed and left soon after your Commander... Is she our apostate?" Miriam deducts soundly, but I don't let her know. If I'm wrong, which is entirely possible, then I'll be chasing a dead end.
"It's possible, but it's not definite," I admit, despite the face I know this bitch is the one I'm after. "Have you seen her since?"
"No, she has not returned to my knowledge," the Elder says unsurely. A rogue apostate running around, putting her people in danger right under her nose when she's supposed to know everything? That's gotta sting.
"I need you to get a message to the Hawkes for me," I change subjects quickly. Time is of the essence. "Tell that I'm on the trail and above all else they need to stay put. With Templars about, I'd rather they stayed inside and sang Kumbaya all day," I say, scratching my head as I look out of the window. The street is deserted. I'm out of time.
"What are you going to do?" Miriam asks unsurely. I was hoping she didn't.
"I have to track down this mage and put a stop to all of this. You'll have to hold down the fort while I'm gone," I say quickly, a bad feeling rising. "Stall the Templars in any and every way you can. Above everything, keep the Hawkes safe. I'll do my best to bring down the mage as quickly as possible." I move towards the front door.
"Wait!" Miriam cries. I look over my shoulder at her, eyes hard and determined. "Why are you doing this for them? Who are you?"
I flash a cocky grin. "I'm Warden Jack Sparrow love. Savvy?" I open the door and then immediately slam it, throwing my weight against it. A sword breaks through the door a few inches from my face and I head butt it, sending my Will into it and super heating it. I hear a squeal of pain from one of the Templars on the other side as the sword turns to molten steel.
"You wouldn't happen to have a back door?" I ask calmly as I hold the door closed against the Barrage of Templars. I'm strong, side effect of being a Hero, but I'm no match for a squad of lyrium enhanced zealots. Eventually, they're getting in.
Miriam shakes her head and then catches sight of her window. She hurriedly but gently opens the shutter so as not to make a noise, then steps far out of the way.
"May the Maker watch you Jack Sparrow," She nods as the door jumps forward an inch before I drive it back. I curse, sweating in panic and exertion.
"Good luck Elder Miriam," I gasp as I launch myself away from the door, racing across the room and hopping out the window. I dart to my left, away from the main street and run for - quite literally - my life, the yells of the Templars following me long after they've left earshot.
That was too close, I need to be more careful. What did I expect just walking into town, balls swinging by my ankles. I'm am literally the most wanted person in Lothering. I should have taken my time, maybe set up a distraction to lure Templars away. Thankfully I got what I needed, more or less.
I forget about that as I find a small clearing in the woods I ran into during my escape. Great thing about a pre-industrial landscape: usually a lot of trees.
I sit my self down, leaning against a tree as I come up with a battle plan.
How do I find the mage? The best idea would be to ask Blades or Oakvale where they were, but seeing as the line seems to be down, I'll have to think of something else. I try to think of all the spells I know of in Fable or Dragon Age, tell me if there's anything that could help me track someone down. I even move into other fantasy works, thinking if Fable magic works, something else might. But I come up with a blank. And even if I knew of the spell, doesn't mean I could cast it anyway.
Damn this stuff is so much easier in the games, there's always a marker on the minimap...
Hmm. Minimap?
Enemies close... I'm thinking of something... Hang on... Almost, got it.
Okay yes, I know what to do. Maybe. I just have to use my head.
I close my eyes and cross my legs, taking slow breaths in and out. I empty my head of anything I don't need, concentrating hard.
I picture a blank canvass, with a small purple arrow. Surrounding it is a small circle revealing illustrations of trees. I fill in the map with all the places of Lothering I know or have been to. That leaves only a few empty patches, courtesy of my getting bored and exploring Lothering. Then I throw my Will into the map.
I can't find the Swords, someone is definitely hiding them. When I try to push towards them, it's like my mental finger is hitting a wall. I'm glad the mage isn't as clever as me. If I was warding something, I'd blend it in. Instead of a wall, I'd make a sloped shield, so all probes would just slide off it with no resistance. Less suspicion.
But I can sense a lot of what's happening in town, even from this distance of perhaps a mile away. I just need to find a dark spot, something that is actively trying to hide something like the swords...
It takes a few moments of mental straining, but eventually, I have it. There, on my mental map of Lothering, a dark patch. Someone's hiding in the mill.
I've got you now you son of a bitch.
It takes me about twenty minutes to get to the windmill, or a smock mill if I remember right, after I take a small side trip. I stand before the entrance and take an intoxicating breath, my head swimming slightly at the raw magic running through the air. It's dizzying, the intensity of it. If Oakvale and Blade's are up there, no wonder I couldn't get to them.
I'm terrified. Utterly terrified. I mean, this thing is more powerful than anything I've ever faced. I mean... it's impossible to explain. Compared to the lacing of magic in the Hawkes... this is Chernobyl. And whatever's in there won't be selling girl scout cookies. It's gonna blow. And I don't wanna be there when it does.
But I have to be. To protect the Hawkes. Hell, to protect the whole town. This thing is dangerous, nuclear, and if it doesn't get a lightning rod to channel all that power soon the whole town will burn.
Why the hell did I volunteer to be a lightning rod?
I let out a shaky breath and roll my shoulders, snapping my neck to the sides and then straightening my back. Okay. "Let's get this party started," I murmur quietly as my heart hammers in my ears.
Slowly, my arm reaches out to open the door. It slowly creaks open, and I wince at the noise. So much for the element of surprise!
I take a few steps in and close the door behind me. Wouldn't do to be disturbed. The machinery is quiet, not having been used since before the winter. I doubt many have been in here since then either. The mill's dark and dusty, the air thick with wheat and flour particles. Probably shouldn't cast any fire spells then. Not with what happened last year...
I see some stairs and decide to head upwards because, seriously, where else are they gonna be? She already knows I'm here so I walk confidently, taking my time and not rushing. The image of calmness.
Eventually, I reach the dreaded top step and walk into what appears to be an attic of sorts. Straight ahead of me appears to be a set of window shutters. They're open, and the woman is silhouetted against the rapidly setting sun. She's either not noticed me, or ignoring me for effect. Either way, I use this opportunity to scope out the room.
My eyes immediately focus on the one thing that's relevant to me. My GEAR! Literally feet away from the bitch who's done all of this. A low growl escapes my lips and, obviously taking this as her cue, she turns.
"Sparrow," she says calmly, looking at me like a queen surveying her subjects. Hardly recognisable with the afternoon sun surrounding her like a halo. Nothing like the woman I thought I knew.
"Hello Elvha," I greet politely as I move around the room, most to get out of the sun but also to get closer to my gear. And her. "How's the view? Think it'll be a good parlour scene?" I ask nonchalantly as I continue to look around, hands in my pockets. Wood looks solid enough, and I double check and give it a rap with my knuckles.
I can see her frown in confusion. "You're not surprised?" she asks unsurely and I let out a bark of laughter.
"What? God no, it's been quite obvious really. You should learn some subtlety," I say, wagging my finger at her as though scolding a child. "I mean really, this whole thing started when Duncan got your letter. I really should have guessed then and there something was wrong. In fact, I nearly did. I mean, I believed you were at least a little competent. I mean-" I pause and cock my head, mouth slightly ajar. "Oh," I say quietly as my eyes narrow in anger. "No, it started long before that didn't it. There's a reason you're here right now and not years ago. You didn't know where Malcolm was did you? I'm the one who told you. I still trusted you at that juncture. Foolish mistake," I say with a remorseful shake of my head as I look at Elvha, my eyes glittering with anger.
She snorts and her face curls with anger as she crosses her arms. "Oh, and what made the mighty Sparrow realise his mistake?" she asks, spitting my taken name like a curse. My mouth curls in a smirk.
"Lots of little things didn't add up," I say in a frustrated voice, shaking my hands in front of my face as all the pieces, so jumbled and unreadable before are now plain as day. I pace away from my gear, as I'd seen Elvha's face narrow in suspicion. "I mean, the Templars showed up and it wasn't because me or the Hawkes being careless. Hell, up until this morning I hadn't used magic since Denerim. But still, someone knew I was a mage, knew enough to plant evidence exposing me as a malificarum. That, or it was a coincidence and they just got incredibly lucky. But I don't believe in coincidence."
I stand and face my one time teacher, a scowl etched on my face. A flash of emotion crosses her face but she quickly squashes it. "I needed you distracted. If you were evading the Templars, you wouldn't be able to aid Malcolm," she says, finishing as though the name leaves a bad taste in her mouth. I bite my cheek to stop a smirk forming.
This is going wonderfully.
"Oh yes... The real reason for all of this. Malcolm Hawke, apostate extraordinaire..." I say slowly, savouring my words. The longer she talks, the better. "So he told me you were his teacher at the Circle in Kirkwall, but his wife was present. You were shagging, weren't you?"
Elvha ruffles her face in disgust at my phrasing, but remains silent. But it isn't just an admittance I'm right... "No, it was more than that... You loved him," I laugh as her cheeks begin to redden with embarrassment and anger. "Ohoho! You loved him, but he didn't reciprocate. Christ, did he become an apostate just to get away from the overly attached girlfriend?" I nearly howl as I feel the air begin to thicken as Elvha draws in her power.
Sober up or die. Try not to mock the malificarum.
"So tell me," I ask seriously after a second. I feel the energies pause. "What else is there? You wouldn't really follow him across the continent because he didn't love you back, would you? You're smarter than that..." I say, sounding vaguely unsure at the ending. My eyes open a fraction as Elvha begins to growl. Please...
"I was his Mentor at the Circle, yes." Elvha nods, calmer now. Her face twists as she continues, "I taught Malcolm Hawke everything that he knew. I loved him. Loved HIM. Do you know what that is Sparrow? To love a person wholly for who they are?" She glares at me with a pleading desperation. Any second I imagine her to shout "I'm not crazy!"
"I can imagine," I murmur softly, before my head tilts, memories of Amy filling my head. "Yes. Yes I do." I nod sharply before glaring at Elvha. Her mouth curls slightly in a smile.
"Then you know, what it's like to have them consume everything. Your only purpose in existence is to ensure their happiness. Hawke hated being locked away in the Circle, he yearned for the outside world. I couldn't bear to see him like that. I was a senior enchanter, with a few connections here and there and so I arranged work for him among a mercenary troop. Oh how happy he was, just to interact with the outside world. It was during one of these excursions he met," she takes and audible breath and the next word is simply a guttural hiss. "Her. She only saw the parts of him that he let her see. She never knew him. Not like I do. She could never accept the mage, so he showed her the man."
Wow... It's always the quiet one's who've got issues.
"So Hawke gets a taste of the life outside the Circle and suddenly he doesn't want to go back to being a caged mage. He runs, and takes Leandra with him and off they went into the sunset." I stroke my chin thoughtfully before something occurs to me. "He never told you did he. That he was leaving, I mean," I say, more stating a fact than a question.
"He was being followed by the Templars, it would have put me at risk to come to me and say goodbye," she says, with a smidgen of hysteria. I can tell she's told herself that a lot. Enough times to firmly believe it. Enough times that the simple words have become heavy on her mind. She may have not snapped completely yet, but it's coming.
"And then what? How do you get from senior enchanter to Grey Warden?" I ask curiously. I take a glance out the window and see the sun getting closer to the horizon. Her face falls sadly.
"Once he had escaped, it became clear how he had managed to leave the Circle in the first place. I was punished, severely, stripped of my rank. There was talks of me being executed, or worse, being made Tranquil." We both shudder. That's no life. None at all.
The Tranquil in game always reminded me of a book I'd read, The Northern Lights by Philip Pullman. Long story short, people and soul were seperate but symbiotic entities, with the soul being shapeshifting animals. But there was a process that was being used on children to cut the link between the soul - or daemon as they were called - and the child. There were a bunch of scientific and religious reasons behind it, but it always ended up killing the child after a while. The Tranquil reminded me of them, albeit with higher functions. But that's what it was in my opinion: ripping away a mages soul and leaving a hollow shell behind.
No life at all.
"But, the Grey Wardens saved me, and that road led me here," she says with a small shrug as she twirls her staff around. I eye it for a second and resist looking at my gear. During her speech, I've edged closer and closer. It's only a few feet away now...
"So... What now?" I ask with an arched brow. I throw my arms wide. "What's the endgame Elvha?"
She cocks her head and looks at me like I've got two heads. "Isn't it obvious?" she asks, as though I were a simpleton.
"Not especially no, this whole tale has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster and I'm lost as to where we go from here," I say with a short laugh. "Teach me sensai."
Elvha gives me one of her motherly smiles. She's back in control, her madness squashed down under that calm veneer. "Sparrow, you are not a fool, no matter how much you like to play at one. You know where this ends. With Malcolm Hawke at my feet, begging for his life. Aid me, or leave my sight, I care not which. But if you interfere I shall destroy you," She says, as though discussing the weather. I wince.
"And what's my incentive to help? Eh? This isn't my fight, this is between you and Hawke. I could just walk away, leave you to the Templars..." I say before breaking off as she pulls a folded letter from her inside breast pocket. I recognise it immediately. Duncan's pardon. I smile bitterly.
The Templars know I'm a mage, they'd probably sent out a bounty or something on my head if I ran. Just like before, that pardon's my get out of jail free card. If I help Elvha, I get to keep my life, at the expense of others loosing theirs. If I don't... I become an apostate for a while. End up in the Circle. Who know's what'll happen there...
Keep emotion out of this. Don't do the right thing, do the smart thing. Keep it going.
Malcolm dies soon, at least according to the game. And, not to be callous, I amn't really attached to him. It's his family I'm concerned with. "And what of his children? His wife?" I ask blankly.
Elvha glares for a moment before waving a hand. "They do not deserve to pay for their fathers betrayals," she says, not looking at me. Alarm bells anyone?
"And Leandra," I say darkly, taking a step forward. Elvha's head snaps to me and she scowls, her stance changing to match mine.
"She will get what she deserves," Elvha growls, equally as fierce. My upper lip quivers for a second in disgust before I calm down.
Elvha is the bomb. And her lightning rods are the Hawkes. Not Malcolm. Not Leandra. ALL of them. Their home, their lives... to her, all of it is forfeit for their father's betrayal. The bad thing is I'm nowhere near strong enough to take Elvha down fair and square. And worse still...
"I sympathise with you," I whisper quietly, regret and shame marking my works distastefully as I stare into the floor. "I've felt the same way. Betrayed. Forgotten. Used. Abandoned for someone else. I know what it's like. You want to make them hurt for the way they've hurt you. Embarrass them like they embarrassed you. It... just hurts so much in here," I say as I rub my chest, my face scrunched up. "You want them to feel the same way, just so they know the damage they've caused, that it's all their fault.
"But," I say, my tone changing, hardening, as I look Elvha in the eye. "That doesn't mean you should. Just because you can do something doesn't give you the right. The heart is a fickle thing, and people get hurt. Lives are put together and torn apart because of love. Tis a many splendoured thing. We all move through this world, looking for love. And when we find it, we want to hold on and never let go. And sometimes it doesn't last. And it hurts. God, does it hurt. But we have to accept it. We learn. We move on. And we wait for the next adventure that our stupid heart will throw us into next.
"So I'm sorry Elvha, for what Hawke did to you," I say sadly as I look at my crushed mentor. She stares at me uncertainly, but I notice that her knuckles are white gripping her staff. "And I'm sorry that you couldn't move on from it. Truly I am. The past is a terrible place to lose yourself in. But I'm going to give you one chance to walk away. Drop the staff, give me the pardon and just... walk away. Go back to Denerim, or just keep walking. Just never come back to haunt Lothering, or the Hawkes again."
Elvha's eyes narrow. I swallow some saliva that had built in my mouth. "And if I refuse," Elvha asks dangerously. I smile bitterly, feeling tears prick at my eyes.
"Then I'm sorry for what I'm going to do to you. Don't make me. Please. I don't want to hurt you," I plead quietly, staring at the floor by her left foot. Elvha laughs, reminding me vaguely of a Disney Villain.
And in that moment I realised that only one of us was going to survive what was coming next.
"YOU?! You think you are capable of harming me? You, with your basic grasp of eldritch magic against me? I was wrong, you truly are a fool Jack Sparrow," Elvha hisses as the air once again becomes thick.
I hop to my left and grab my crossbow, drawing the Crow Dagger as I aim the crossbow at Elvha one handed. She halts her spell, but doesn't release the energy.
"You can only cast one spell at a time. So which do you think is faster? That Bolt, or this one?" I say cockily, nodding my head at my crossbow. Elvha's eyes widen in anger, but she remains silent. "I know what your thinking. Magic can be far more destructive than a mere crossbow. But seeing as a bolt from this would travel in excess of 400 feet per second, with no drop whatsoever... You gotta ask yourself one question. Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya bitch?" Her eyes narrow, but she otherwise doesn't respond.
Neither of us move for a few moments, each waiting for the other to break the stalemate. I'm thankful for Tamarel's arm strengthening classes, and the Taint running through me. If I still had the same body as I did back home, I doubt I'd be able to heft the bow one handed at all, never mind for a minute. And I doubt I'd be able to do this either.
I pull the trigger of the crossbow, releasing the arrow which soars like a bullet through the air before colliding with Elvha's hastily erected Ward. Shit, I actually almost had her there. She refocuses her energy into an attack so I take her vulnerability and hurl the Crow Dagger towards her. She see's it coming too late and attempts to move out of the way, having no time to cast another shield. I can literally hear the sound of the blade sliding into her as I turn to grab a sword, even as her scream of pain splits the air.
I draw out the Hero Blade and spin in time to see Elvha pointing her staff at me, cursing violently as I'm suddenly thrown to the ground hard enough to make me see stars. I wheeze as I try to roll out of her attack zone. She attempts to pull the dagger out, but seeing that, I concentrate hard and fire my Ice, focused on the blade. The metal freezes inside Elvha and she squeals in agony as the blade fuses to her innards before turning furious eyes to me as I get to my feet.
I give my sword a small spin and slash the air, showing off slightly to intimidate her. It doesn't seem to work as she simply growls while waving her staff in a similar display. My mouth curls in a smirk as I begin to march forward, gaining speed with every step. It's only as I get within striking distance I see Elvha wearing a smirk of her own. I swing my blade as she brings her staff down, a wave of energy hitting me and sending me crashing into the wall upside down. I land on my back hard and groan as I curl up onto my hands and knees. I think I felt something crack. I hope it was the wall. I cough, and some blood erupts from my mouth.
Well shit.
I look and see Elvha looking at me furiously, and something on the floor a few feet away from us both. My sword... halfway embedded in Elvha's staff OH GOD!
I rush to my feet as Elvha begins to move towards her weapon, held back by my frozen Dagger still embedded in her shoulder. We meet just in front of the weapons and she tries to break my ribs with a kick. I square my feet then raise my knee to block and try a palmstrike to her chest. She twists, and catches my arm under her own, locking it and pulling me in before headbutting me. She lets me fall, but I manage to grab her sleeve and pull myself back up with a slug to the jaw.
She staggers away as I try to regain my balance after my brain stops shaking. That's gonna hurt in the morning. I take a step towards her and try a kick of my own, which strikes her in the back. She cries out in pain as she tries to bend away from my leg, inadvertently shifting the dagger leaving her howling in pain. I turn to see if I can make it to my sword in time before something sweeps my legs out from under me. I fall heavily but manage to grab Elvha's foot and twist it before it breaks my nose. I hold onto her and get to my feet before pulling her, dragging her on her chest so the dagger pushes it's way further through her shoulder. I can actually see it pushing against the back of her shirt.
I break her ankle with a twist of my hands and reach for my sword. Elvha's undamaged foot lashes out into my knee and I hiss in pain. She scuttles back to her feet as I fall from mine.
She takes a few hops back as I gingerly get back to my feet, sword in hand. She's leaning off her right foot, the broken one, and my dagger is still stuck in her left shoulder.
I'm actually coming out of this pretty well.
"Wanna know the difference between you and me?" I say with a slight pant. Elvha stays quiet. I smirk, confidence brimming. "I don't need a stick."
I throw my arm out and every ounce of my Will goes into freezing the bitch. After a few seconds of a miniature snow storm I cut the power, feeling a significant drain. My eyes widen a little and my grip on my sword tightens. Elvha is staring at me with an evil smirk.
"That would make two of us," she purrs before raising her uninjured arm and shooting lightning at me. Unprepared, it hits me straight in the chest and races through my body, racking it with agony.
I remember vaguely as a child I leaned against an electric fence. I didn't realise it was on and so went straight ahead and treated the thing like a chair. The shock I got from that was the second most painful shock I had. The first was when I was messing around with a lamp and decided it was a good idea to push down the electric prongs where the lightbulb goes and... well, let's just say that I felt my heartbeat in my teeth for a while there.
Both of those combined couldn't compare to the excruciating agony I'm faced with. My muscles feel like they're about to grind my bones into dust, or explode from my body all together. It feels like a millions suns are going supernova in every cell of my body. It's all heat and static and AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!
I close my eyes, pushing aside the pain as best I can and try to access my Will. I'm nearly drained, but that's okay. I just need a little.
I activate my shield and don't even give it time to go into effect before I act. As soon as my limbs slacken I throw myself forward and slap my dagger, pushing it further through Elvha's shoulder as some of her lightning arcs off me and into the blade. She howls and cuts her magic off as we both fall to the floor. My shield is out, and I'm panting like a cornered nun.
That... was not fun.
And then, because I opened my big fat mouth, it inevitably gets worse.
I feel it in my heart, a sudden and sharp pain that immediately makes me jerk with a shriek. It stops for a second, then redoubles, bringing a deep roar from me. I can feel something being drained from me and my convulsions slip me onto my back, eyes and mouth wide open in shock and pain. I see a slight red hue leaving my body and swirling and winding it's way into Elvha.
The book. In my chest. I thought it was blood magic. Looks like I was right. Fuck. I... I need... FUCK! SOMETHING!
I tap into the last dregs of my Will and just throw it at Elvha, not sure what'll happen. A blue distortion wave sweeps from all around me and she's thrown across the room, as is her staff and my sword.
Force Push... new power... Hehe... I'm a... Je...di...
My vision is blackening so I quickly reach into my pocket and pull out the blue vial Elvha planted in my chest. It's probably a mana potion. Even if it is, I have no idea how it'll effect me.
Gotta... Try...
I pop the cork and practically throw the bottle in my mouth as the last of the world fades away. I swallow as much as the vial as I can, but cough and splutter into the darkness as I fall onto my back. The world dims and disappears and my body floats away...
It began with the day that Amy walked in with sunglassess.
"Mum?" I ask through the door. She's silent. "Mum?" I can't hear her horrendous snoring so I know she's awake. "Mum?"
"I've not got fags," she calls through the door angrily. My temper has been shot to hell recently, and this sets me off as easily as anything else.
"I don't always come to you when I fucking want something," I shout as I punch the door. My fist, still not fully recovered from slicing on Joeys teeth, howl with pain, but I ignore it as I make my way down the stairs. I grab my school bag and as I march from the house, fuming. Yes, I need cigarettes. No, I didn't need her for that, I'm perfectly capable of getting those myself, something that she knows. She always sends me to the shop for hers and I don't mind going since she got those crutches.
God forbid, I ever just want to fucking talk to someone!
I march into the shop and take a breath, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. I grab a can of juice from next to me and put it on the counter. The woman rings it up as I say in a low voice, "And a pack of John Players ta."
She looks me over, trying to guess my age and I don't have the energy to smile. Thankfully I haven't shaved in a week, so there's a layer of stubble coating my face.
Her eyes narrow and I think she's going to ask for ID, something a seventeen year old like me trying to buy overage products dreads to hear.
"£7.20, thanks. Would you like a bag?" she asks and I shake my head as she hands my my change. I put it into my pocket along with my new box of fags which should last me a few days at least. I leave the shop and open the pack, taking out a cigarette and sparking up. Immediately, I feel the nicotine waking up my system, bring my mind to life and leaving me ready to face the day.
My smile dims when a schoolbus drives in front of me, and a single face stands out. Amy. Wearing dark sunglasses. I know she's looking right at me as her head turns to face me as the bus drives away. I return the gesture, keeping my eyes on her until she's well out of sight. I frown and look at the sky. Cloudy, and not too bright. Probably gonna rain later. It is January after all. What the hell's she wearing sunglasses for?
The question soon leaves my mind as I walk to school, and doesn't enter again until lunchtime where I nearly run from the school. While at first I was a living legend for knocking seven shades of shit out of Joey, fights are always cool in school, when I refused to give anyone any answers over why we were fighting they turned to him to supply them, something he was only too ready to do. Which soon led to me ironically becoming the devil of that particular tale.
Oh, apparently he was going easy on me. Oh and he's totally being the bigger man for not fighting in front of his new girlfriend oh they're so cure together aren't they. I'm just the jealous ex who wants to get in the way of their love. I snort. As if! Besides, love is overrated. It's an slippy path of thorns and salt, just waiting for you to slip and fall. And when you climb your way through, bloody and broken, everyone wants to throw you right back in.
Though... sometimes, I admit reluctantly, it's worth the risk.
I sit myself down on the grassy banking next to the fence. The street is just off the school, and most smokers congregate around this area, or a similar one on the other side of the school.
I used to come here with Joey and Amy. Nowadays it's just me. It's not that I don't get on with people, far from it. I'm just not close to anyone like I was to them. It takes time to build those sorts of friendships, and energy that I just don't have right now.
I sigh morosely and I lie back on the grass. The sun has chased the clouds away and it really has become a beautiful day. My mind wanders back to Amy with her big sunglasses. Someone must have watched the weather.
"Hey," says a voice in front of me. I open my eyes and hold up a hand so I'm not blinded by the sun. While I greeted the stranger with a smile, that fades when I see who it is. I lower my hand and close my eyes, ignoring her as I continue smoking. "You mind if I sit here?"
She takes my lack of an answer as permission to sit, and her shadow crosses over my face. "This reminds me of that time we went to the beach," she says casually. I can hear the smile on her face and looking back, I'm tempted to join her. It was a good day. "Flint got lost in the waves and we were so worried he'd got swept away, you nearly drowned looking for him."
"And then it turns out he'd made his way up the beach and was being looked after by two lovely ladies and their kid," I say fondly, remembering the mixed feeling of relief and rage I'd had directed at the mutt when he rushed up to me like nothing was wrong. Amy laughs and a smile escapes me. "They were bloody ready to take him home!"
"Aye, who could blame them? He's a lovely dog." She smiles, but it turns away quickly. "That's one of my favourite memories of us," she says sadly, and my mouth tightens immediately. "What was yours? I remember you saying it was that time..." She leaves it open ended and I open my eyes to see her looking at me desperately. She's gnawing at her lips again. Anxious.
"What do you want?" I ask her, my face and voice filled with anger. We happily blank each other for weeks and all of a sudden she pops up to bring up the past?
She looks away and I can see her playing with her hair. "I want my friend back," she says quietly.
"Yeah, it'd be nice wouldn't it," I say blankly as I close my eyes and take another puff of my cigarette before throwing it away.
"Can we?" she asks quietly, and I can hear the tremble in her voice. "I miss you."
I let out a forced snort along with a bitter smirk as I feel my chest aches at her words. "I don't see it in the cards chook," I say coldly. A part of me, my heart most likely wants nothing more than to smile at her and give her a big hug. But another part, the majority, is perfectly happy pretending she doesn't exist.
"Why not?" she asks, and I can hear the pleading in her voice.
"Oh, you mean apart from the fact that you've been shagging my best friend? Apart from the fact you chose him over me? Apart from the fact that you led me on?" I growl angrily as I sit up, looking at her with hatred.
"What do you mean led you on?" she asks indignantly. I let loose another laugh.
"Oh, so I'm supposed to forget the fact that you kissed me the night, the fucking night before your big announcement," I demand, doing my utmost best to keep my voice under control. She looks away guiltily.
"That was..." she starts but then pauses. Needing to move, I leap to my feet to stand in front of her.
"What? A figment of my bloody imagination? What Amy?" I say as she rises to her feet.
"A mistake," she shouts and my rage falls away, overwhelmed by my heart break. I'm a mistake. Ouch. "I knew Joey wanted me to tell you about us but I just couldn't... I need you. I don't want to lose you. You're my Scruffy," she says, using my old pet name referencing my scruffy beard I usually keep. Puberty set in a while ago and I like to have a beard. I shake my head as the anger tackles my sorrow.
"Oh, and that's supposed to make everything better is it? Everything's just swept under the rug now because I'm your Scruffy. 'Oh sorry Scruffy, I really want to tell you I'm banging your bestie, but instead I'll ask you to interpret it through a passionate kiss'," I say in disbelief. "You really are fucking delusional," I spit venomously as I sit down, rage coursing through my body. I can literally feel it pulsing.
Amy takes a few moments before she sits down next to me. She wipes away tears and my hearts takes another blow. I always hate it when she cries. Especially over me.
With a grunt of frustration I sit up and put a hand on her back, softly patting her. She suddenly darts into my arms and wraps her arms around me tightly and I sit there, frozen. It takes a minute to gently gently pull her arms off of me and push her away as she buries her head in her hands.
"I just want to be able to talk to you again," she sobs quietly. "I fucked up and I ruined everything and I just want to be able to talk to my friend again."
"Hey, we're talking now Scrappy," I say before wincing. She looks at me with a huge smile after I use her pet name that I gave her.
"Scrappy dappy doo," she whispers quietly and we can't help but chuckle softly at the old memories. The good ol' days. Me and her against the world. "They were some pretty damn good times," she says fondly. I look away from her and cast my gaze across the times we had. The laughs. The tears. The joy. The sadness. The love. The hate. The good times and the bad. I nod slightly.
"The best," I say softly, smiling as I look into her eyes. We stay like that for a few moments, gazing at each other fondly, before I clear my throat and reach into my pocket and pull out my cigarettes. I open the carton and withdraw two, planting one in my mouth, and offering the other to Amy. She takes it with a thanks and I light it for her.
Usually this would be the time where Amy would launch into one of her stories, but this time she stays quiet and I enjoy the silence. It was always rare when she was around. And I'm sad to break it. But I have to. Because it's gonna hurt no matter what happens.
"So where's Joey?" I ask casually as I take a draw. Immediately, Amy tenses up.
"He's off today," she says quietly and a bitter smirk graces my face.
"Ah," I say mournfully as I look away. "Settling for second best."
Her hand snakes around and grabs my chin, turning my head to look at her. "You are not second best," she says angrily. "You never were and you never will be."
My mouth lifts in a small smile, but then it slips away. Amy's shades has slipped, lowering onto the tip of her nose. "Where'd you get that shiner?" I ask calmly, though I can feel my blood boiling at the sight of her purpled and bruised eye. She reacts with shock and pulls the glasses back onto cover her face.
"Oh I fell," she says quickly, in a panicked tone. "Door hit me in the face."
"Aye did it now," I say heatedly. I see she's about to argue, so I change the subject. "So what did you want to talk about?"
"It doesn't matter," she says and moves to walk away. I grab her arm and she winces in pain. I frown. I didn't grab her that hard. I pull up her sleeve and recoil as she desperately pulls it away.
"What... the FUCK is that?!" I demand angrily. She crosses her arms, as though to hide them. "The fuck is that Amy?"
"It's nothing," shouts as she starts to march away.
"Looks more like a big bloody bruise Amy," I growl angrily. "Almost like some bastards been grabbing you," I say as I grab her shoulder and turn her to face me, avoiding her damaged arms. "Amy?"
"What?" she asks, and I can tell she's terrified. And I know exactly who by.
"Was this Joey?" I ask furiously. "Did that fuck hurt you?"
"No, I told you, I fell on a door," she says desperately.
"Oh, and it grabbed your arm to stop your fall did it?" I demand with rage bursting from every pore. "Battered women have been using that excuse for fucking decades and it's utter bullshit. They're just afraid of what'll happen to them if they tell the truth."
"Oh, and what do you think that'll happen eh? You're gonna make it all better is that it?" she says scathingly, looking at me like I'm something she's found on her shoe. "Seriously, who the hell do you think you are?"
"I'm the guy who's not gonna stand around and watch you get your arse kicked by that son of a bitch," I growl angrily as a shout comes from up the road.
I look up and see one of Joey's friends, Mac, thundering towards us. Somewhere behind him is a gang looking like they're getting ready for... ah shit.
"Get your fucking hands off her," her friends rages. I look at Amy, and see the fear in her eyes. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. She won't help me.
"To hell with this," I say as I pull my arms off her and walk in the opposite direction. I'm done with all of this bullshit. I don't have to be her white knight after what she's done to me.
"Hey, the fuck do think you're going?" her friend shouts and he pulls on my arm and spins me around. It takes every iota of my willpower not to floor this prick right here and now, but Joey was a special case. Mum always told me never to hit first.
And she also told me when someone does, you hit them back ten times as hard and make sure they don't get back up.
"Get to fuck Mac," I growl as I rip my arm away. He darts in front of me and pushes my shoulders. I stagger back a step and glare at him.
Don't hit first, don't hit first. Shoves don't count.
"I want a fucking word with you pal," he says aggressively as he takes a step into me and points in my face. He's taller, and he's trying to tower over me. Maybe another day I'd take it and step back. But right now I'm hanging on by a thread and this guy is getting on my last nerve.
I push him right back and I can almost see him frothing at the mouth. "Aye do ya now? Well you've just had eight so that'll have to do ya." I try to push past him but he steps in front of me, arms wide.
"You're not going anywhere smart ass," he shouts and I sigh. Of all the damn days Mac wanted to play Jehovah, he picks today.
"What do you fucking want?" I ask angrily as more shouts prop up from behind me. I turn, and see the gang of boys and girls marching towards us, screaming at the tops of their voices. Amy lags behind them, shouting something. Looks like she's trying to hold them back. Not very well.
"What the fuck did you do to her?" Mac shouts in my face once more and my fist twitches towards him. The great advantage of being a big guy is that people don't know whether it's fat or power that you're storing. I've rarely been in fights, but when I have I've given as good as I got. But against a lynch mob, may have a bit of fucking trouble.
And then they're on me, shouting and screaming. I get the jist though, from the half dozen screams aimed at me. What was I doing talking to her? Trying to slither my way back in? Where'd she get those marks? You fucking touched her? And the usual battle cry, I'm gonna kick your fucking head in.
"Ask her," I scream, and everyone shuts up. I rarely shout at full volume, and it usually has that effect. "Ask her," I say more quietly, my voice hoarser than it was a moment ago, staring at Amy. All eyes turn to her and she looks around fearfully.
"I..." her mouth quivers and she starts to cry. The girls of the gang rush up to her and sling their arms around her before hauling her away. She briefly glances at me before they turn the corner, leaving me with three guys who don't very much like me.
"Magnificent," I say tiredly as they pounce.
I lie there for what feels like an eternity of darkness, a sea of nothingness swimming before me before something happens.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP.
The hell is that? Is there a drummer around.
THUMP THUMP. THUMP THUMP.
Oh god that's my heart isn't it.
I feel the blood rushing through my body at a million miles a minute and feel the potion working as my Will comes rushing back to me. Shit, this feels AMAZING!
I push a healing spell through my body, but nothing helps the light headedness I feel keeping my sight from returning. I'd panic but honestly, I feel too good. Shit, this must be what crack is like. Or ectasy, yeah ecstacy might be more accurate.
I sit up and can feel all the blood and potion dribble out of my brain as my sight comes back slowly. "Well, that's interesting," I say in a strangely calm voice. I look across the room to see Elvha pointing her staff at me, lightning already arcing.
"SHIT!" I shout as I scramble out of the way. I turn back to her and pause. The lightning is shooting towards were I was... very slowly. It's about a foot away from Elvha now. I can see it moving at a walking pace.
Shit, was it crack in that bottle? Speed?
Wait... Wasn't there a Slow Time spell in Fable? I'm sure there was. Oh Crap it didn't last long!
I rush forwards to incapacitate Elvha, and the spell seems to end when I'm only two paces away.
She blinks, confusion in her face as she tries to track - what would be from her point of view - my superspeed, before her eyes dart to me, charging from her side. I slam into her and we fall. I let out a bestial roar as we fall, and Elvha, a savage hiss. We land, and her hiss becomes an agony filled screech as the blade which has caused her so much discomfort is pushed back through her shoulder, covered in blood and pieces of flesh where it was still frozen. Any other situation and I'd wince. Instead I slam my fist into her face. She cries in pain as her head thunks off the floor and I hit her again. And again. And again.
I hit her until my hand gets sore, all the while her eyes stare at me defiantly as her face darkens and her skin tears and her blood flows.. I tear the blade from her shoulder savagely and hold it to her throat, ignoring her scream of agony. Immediately, she falls limp and her whines of pain fall.
"Give up," I growl angrily, still vaguely high from the potion. I'm sure I could slit her throat before she could blink. Got the point right on the artery. Slightest bit of pressure and problem solved.
"End this," she says, defeated. "I have made my peace with death long ago."
"No. Peace was never an option," I mutter angrily. I look away from Elvha, and stare deeply at my dagger. One twitch... One slight movement...
I hear the blood pumping. I hear my heavy breathing. Elvha's quick, pained pants. I can feel her heartbeat in my blade. Dum dum, dum dum, dum dum. Over and over...
A voice is whispering at the back of my mind, an insidious and dark voice. Go on. You've earned it. Go on. Do it...
"SPARROW, STOP!" screams a voice from the door way. My eyes snap over to the doorway, and I'm shocked to see Malcolm Hawke standing there, his eyes wide and mouth agape at the bloody tableau before him. "Stop this... madness."
"Mal...colm?" Elvha says weakly. The hand closest to the door stretches out, reaching for him, before it falls limp. Malcolm looks to the fallen elf with a pained expression, before looking at me. With fear. Begging me.
"Don't do this. You don't have to do this," he pleads desperately as he takes a step forward. "You can't decide who lives and who dies, you can't control people's lives! If you do, you'll become just like her."
"I... Saved you," she spits angrily. She glares at the apostate, who scoffs at her.
"Saved me, is that what you think? You made me choose, Elvha! Marian is gone because of you!" he shouts, spittle flying, his face red. MY heart drops.
"What? What happened?" I say in terror. If Hawke is gone...
"Marian was my friend at the Circle," Malcolm says tersely, and immediately I take a sigh of relief which thankfully goes unnoticed by the mages. "She was one of the mages who would help me escape the Circle. And when SHE" his colour rises and he takes a step forward, an acusatory finger stretched before him like a sword, "learned of Leandra, the Templars also found out about my forays outside the Gallows."
"Go on," I say in a low voice. There's only three reasons I can think of to name a child after someone. Family name being passed on like Richard or John, a friend or teacher you respect or... to honour someone's memory.
"They lined us up and she made me choose," Malcolm says, dropping to his butt as tears well in his eyes at the memories which no doubt have plagued him for years. "One of us would be made Tranquil... The other would be punished less severely. I..."
"It's okay Malcolm," I say calmly, comfortingly. That's a bad hand right there. No one gets out of that unscathed. "It's not your fault. You were thinking about Leandra, about your family."
"What family? He had nothing then! All he had was what I'd-" Elvha shouts are brought to a halt as I move the dagger close to her eye.
"You will stay your tongue," I say calmly, feeling the mana potion's druggy after effects dissipate. "Or I shall cut it from your mouth." I turn to Hawke, who's looking at Elvha fiercely. "If you don't want her dead, what do you want me to do with her? As long as she's alive, your family is in danger."
"I know." Malcolm says, with a worried look about him. Must be the same one I wear when my thoughts turn to the Captain. "But there has been enough mayhem and blood shed. Give her to the Templars," he says, with a rock like finality.
That's his judgement, the apostate who ran. Death is too easy for her, yet too hard for him. He is condemning her to prison, to the very place he ran from all those years ago, until the life drains from her bones. Back home, I guess I know where he's sit on capital punishment.
And that's good, right? That there won't be any more death. That I don't have another life's blood staining my hands?
I don't know anymore. A part of me, small mind you but still there, feels cheated. It wants her blood. It wants her dead. It scares the shit out of me yet... excites me.
I knew I'd become something dark, the longer I stayed in this world the blacker the stain on my soul. But I think it might be more than darkness.
I think I might be evil.
"Okay." I say finally, pushing myself to my feet - and keeping the effort it takes hidden from them - I keep my dagger trained on Elvha, who smirks at me. I reach into her dress and pull out the Pardon, making it my turn to smirk as she scowls. If looks could kill... "But the second she tries to pull a fast one, she's dead. No discussions."
"Dad? Sparrow?" another voice cries out, and my heart drops as I see Hawke in the doorway, a short sword drawn limply in her hand. She looks at us all, frozen in shock.
While it was never said, I was pretty sure at some point Malcolm was going to take me aside and explain to me that this story never made it's way back to his family.
Just polite really. And now even that's gone tits up.
"Who the fuck invited you?" I ask, my mouth moving before my brain can catch up. And it breaks the tableau around me.
Malcolm rushes for his daughter, fear etched into every line of his face. Marian is shocked and afraid, having no idea she's the spark in a powder keg. I feel Elvha tense and ready myself to slash her throat. I'm winded as Elvha elbows me in the stomach, making me drop my dagger and the pardon. She spreads her arms wide and fire begins to circle around her. I move to intercept her but a small Push sends me skittering across the floor towards the Hawkes, who cower as Elvha stares at them with pure hatred.
"THEY WILL NEVER HAVE ME!" Elvha yells as she gathers her power. I'm distinctly reminded of Dumbledore towards the end of Half-Blood Prince. I pick myself up, standing in between Hawke and Malcolm as we all get ready to fight off whatever Elvha brings out. "YOU WILL BURN FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME MALCOLM HAWKE AND YOUR FAMILY SHALL BATHE IN YOUR ASHES!"
Fire... Flour.
"Shit, I remember how this works!" I yell in panic as I grab onto Malcolm and Hawke and squeeze them close to me. I activate my shield and concentrate as hard as I can. It worked once, I hope it does so again.
And for the second time in as many years, the world around me erupts into light and heat.
And they all lived happily ever after... Until next week,
Read and review peeps, I'll be seeing you