11. Conscription and Calming Draughts
"He lied to me!"
"By the Maker… a b-blood mage…" Lily muttered from somewhere nearby. "I never… I…"
Kazar glared back at her in annoyance, pushing himself up into a sitting position from where he'd been sprawled. His right side hurt: he'd been knocked down pretty hard by the concussion Jowan had unleashed. That damn blast had wrenched his shoulder something awful, and he hadn't even been in front of it! Who knew blood magic could give such a mediocre mage raw power like that?
And Jowan had had the gall to lie to him about it!
"Maker's Breath! Is everyone all right?" That was Knight-Commander Greagoir, apparently regaining his senses enough to sit up.
The chamber was a mess. Nearly a dozen Templars were knocked out on the floor, though some were beginning to stir. First Enchanter Irving and some bearded stranger had gotten the brunt of the blast, and had been thrown halfway across the room by the force of it. Everything and everyone was covered in specks of Jowan's blood.
Kazar peered over at the First Enchanter, relieved to notice that Irving seemed all right… the First Enchanter's favoritism was the only thing that kept everyone else from turning on him sometimes. Then, he spotted the figure kneeling over the First Enchanter, apparently checking on his injuries. Long black hair. Ink-spattered robes. Horse face. Felicity Amell.
"YOU!" Kazar surged to his feet, magic pooling hot and vicious in his hands. He launched himself at the Tower's resident know-it-all, intending to stuff a fireball down her nosy little throat, but a suit of heavy armor moved to block his path, and he simply ended up bouncing off a Templar chestplate.
Not to be deterred, he shoved against Greagoir's grip. To his credit, the Knight-Commander held on to him, even though the air around the small mage crackled like an imminent storm.
"You brought them, didn't you?!" Kazar hissed at the woman, straining against the commander's firm grip on his shoulders. "You were eavesdropping in the chapel, and then you ran and tattled to the Templars!"
The young woman stiffened, glaring at him with righteous indignation that only stoked Kazar's anger. "I couldn't very well sit by and do nothing. You were going to destroy his phylactery… you did destroy his phylactery!"
"And it was none of your business!" He summoned a surge of fire, intending to blast the insufferable woman into charred little pieces with it, but Greagoir grabbed him by the back of his neck and did something. Kazar felt all his magical energy rush out of him… along with a great deal of physical energy. Groaning, he sagged bonelessly in the Knight-Commander's arms.
"Everyone calm down," the First Enchanter's voice said. "We must think through this rationally." Irving finally sat up, rubbing his head. The bearded stranger nearby was already climbing to his feet.
"I knew it, Irving," Kazar heard Greagoir growl. "Blood magic. Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down. And we have this one to thank for it!"
Kazar felt Greagoir's hands tighten on his shoulders, but his head was spinning too much to do more than struggle feebly. Blast it, but Templar anti-mage skills were effective, weren't they?
"None of us expected this, Greagoir." Irving climbed to his feet with the Amell woman's help.
"I did. I've been saying for years that this little menace should be made Tranquil. Now he's aided the escape of a maleficar! I submit that he and this young woman be sent to Aeonar immediately!"
"I… I will pay my penance," Lily said somewhere behind Kazar, causing a fresh spike of anger to shoot up his spine. "I had no idea he was a… a blood mage."
Kazar gave a wordless shriek of rage and tried again to break out of Greagoir's steel grip. When that failed, he merely whirled on the woman as best he could and spat out, "So much for love, huh?" Lily flinched, but refused to meet his eyes, the coward. "Find out the guy's a blood mage, and suddenly he's the inhuman scum of Thedas, is that it? You're nothing but a brainless, spineless Chantry whore!"
"Kazar, that is quite enough," Irving's voice cut in firmly.
Kazar turned back to see the First Enchanter moving to stare down at him with weariness in his wizened eyes.
"Have you no regret for what you've done?"
"You mean me helping a lifelong friend escape existing for the rest of his life as some empty, soulless… thing? No, can't say I do."
Greagoir cried, "He's a blood mage!"
"He's a person! Kind of a dumb one… but he's not evil!"
"Perhaps not now, Kazar," Irving said with a sigh. "But blood magic corrupts. The Jowan you knew will have already started to disappear."
"Chantry propaganda!"
"No, it's true," the know-it-all snitch piped up. "There have been records of well-respected mages dabbling in the art, and then becoming more susceptible to demonic influence. It has to do with the way it drains the life force of the user, making resistance across the Veil more difficult. And then when you factor in the mind control…"
Irving turned to her. "Thank you, Felicity. But I do not believe he will listen to reason in this." Irving turned back to Kazar, his eyes… disappointed. Kazar froze, because that was an expression he'd didn't often see on the First Enchanter's face. Not aimed at him. "I am sorry, my boy, but you've left me no choice in this matter. Greagoir, you may take them away."
"WHAT?!" Kazar's world went hot again, but this time, the anger was accompanied by an emotion just as strong: fear. "You're… they're going to make me Tranquil! Illegality be damned, I know they will!"
"It is… for the best." The First Enchanter looked defeated.
"But… but…." Kazar's breath escaped him in panicked gasps, and he could feel the magic surging through him in response to his terror. "But I'm the most talented mage of my generation! You've said so yourself!" Lightning danced up and down his arms, despite Greagoir's magic-blocking grip.
"And it will be most regrettable to lose you." The old man's eyes were steady and resolute, and pitying. The pity was the worst part.
The Knight-Commander called for backup, and two other blood-splattered Templars stepped in to add their dispelling talents to the panicking elf. It felt like his magic was being covered in a heavy blanket… perhaps the last magic he would ever be afforded. Kazar shrieked as he felt them try to snuff it—try to snuff him—and surged with everything he had. Fire and lightning and wind gushed from him, the magic tearing at the leashes the Templars were attempting to construct.
All three Templars stumbled back, and Kazar felt their leash snap, the magic vortex he'd conjured rushing out without restraint, fueled by fear. As terrified as he was, he couldn't find the wherewithal to control it, so the storm grew and threatened to consume all of them.
And then Felicity stepped up to him through the torrent, her form sheathed in the white glow of a spell shield. He stumbled back from her, but she stepped in and grabbed his chin, then poured something from a vial down his throat.
His fear ebbed away, and his magic with it. He felt completely drained, having pulled too much power from the Fade in too short a time. He was left gasping, standing powerless and vulnerable before those who would take away his humanity.
"Well done, Felicity," Irving said. He'd surrounded himself and the bearded stranger in a shield, which he now dispelled. "Most laudable thinking. What did you give him?"
"It's just calming draught." She waved a flask. "I used to take it before important exams."
Kazar felt Greagoir's hands fall on his shoulders again, and he slumped, defeated. He couldn't fight back. Not as drained as he was, and not with what the Templars could do.
"We will use every means necessary to track down the maleficar," the Knight-Commander said. "In the meantime, I will personally escort this mage and the girl to Aeonar."
"So be it," Irving said, turning away.
"If I may speak, Commander," the bearded man said, stepping forward. He had watched the entire exchange with an assessing gaze. Kazar might have found it insulting, but he couldn't really muster the will to care at this point.
"This does not really concern you, Warden." Greagoir snapped.
"I believe that it does. As the two of you know, I came to the Tower seeking mages for the army, but I am also seeking recruits for the Grey Wardens. I believe I have found one."
"What? You're not talking about him?" Greagoir sounded like he honestly couldn't believe it. Kazar couldn't either.
"There is a Blight upon us, Commander, and we need every advantage we can get. I believe that a mage of this boy's raw talent would go far in turning the tide against the darkspawn."
"But… he aided a maleficar!"
"And in doing so has shown outstanding loyalty to his friend." Kazar stared at the Grey Warden, hardly believing what he was hearing. A new emotion sparked in his chest: hope.
"Yes, yes." Irving said, sounding like he was warming to the idea himself. "That may just do."
"But what if he turns on you?" Greagoir spat out. "This boy is volatile. He'd just as soon set you on fire as follow you!"
Much to everyone's surprise, most of all Kazar's, the Warden turned to him. "What do you say, Kazar Surana? If I take you from here and recruit you into the Grey Wardens, would you agree to work with me against the Blight?"
Kazar's chest was tight with gratitude. He tried to speak once and failed, then managed a squeaking, "Yes."
"There you have it. I will take this mage under my wing, and assume all responsibility for his further actions. In return, he will be an asset to Ferelden against the darkspawn.
"Now listen here, Warden!" Greagoir released Kazar, just so he could place himself challengingly in the Warden's face. "This mage is too dangerous to allow to-"
"I will invoke the Right of Conscription, if necessary. Please, do not make me do so."
Greagoir sputtered, but stood down. After a moment, he barked at one of the other Templars to go fetch Kazar's things from his room. The underling left to do so.
Irving turned back to Kazar, relief in his eyes. But still, Kazar couldn't shake the very recent memory of the First Enchanter agreeing that Greagoir should cart him off. So, when Irving took a step toward him, Kazar stepped back. The First Enchanter sighed. "It… is good to know your talents will be put to such a use, though a pity it came about in such circumstances, Kazar."
"Warden," the Amell woman said, "are you sure you can control him? If not, I can provide you with the recipe for my calming draught."
"That is a kind offer, Miss Amell. However, if you wish, I would prefer to have you with me instead."
All heads turned. "What was that, Duncan?" Irving said.
"I had been considering recruiting Felicity here before this whole chain of events occurred." Duncan turned back to her. "Irving spoke highly of you before, and judging by what I just saw, I must say he did not exaggerate."
Amell's dark skin reddened. "I am flattered, truly… but I must warn you that I am not nearly as powerful as you must think. Certainly nowhere near Kazar's-"
"While power is an asset, the Grey Wardens need more than sheer force to stop the Blight. We need intelligence, resourcefulness, and the will to do what must be done for the safety of all. You, Miss Amell, have these qualities in spades. I would be honored to recruit you into the Wardens."
"I… oh my… all the things I could learn! Yes, yes, I'll join you!"
Irving sighed, "And so I must lose two of my most promising mages in one day."
"It will be worth it, Irving," Duncan assured him, "when their promise is turned on the darkspawn."
"Yes, I know." He turned to say his farewells to Felicity, and Kazar used that chance to approach Duncan.
"You… saved me."
Duncan smiled down at him. Blast it, but the man was tall, even by human standards. "The only thing I ask in return is that you fight the darkspawn with me."
Kazar nodded, still stunned. He didn't really know much about darkspawn—the book-reading part of his studies had always been excruciatingly dull—but he saw no harm in turning his talents on them for a while. Not when the alternative was being made Tranquil or worse... though Kazar couldn't really imagine what could be worse than being made Tranquil. Not even death.
He shivered, all too aware of just how close he'd gotten to that awful fate, if not for Duncan's intervention.
The Templars returned shortly, bearing two bags instead of one. One of those bags held all of Kazar's worldly possessions. That didn't include much, since most things in the Tower were considered property of the Tower (as far as the Templars were concerned, that included the mages themselves).
The other mage's bag was a great deal heavier, since it included a tome stuffed with all the notes and herbal recipes the woman had apparently ever learned.
Then, Kazar followed as Duncan led Felicity Amell and himself out of the tower. The other mage was already chattering, asking Duncan obscure questions about darkspawn. Kazar supposed he should listen and learn, but he couldn't really muster the will. His emotions were too churned up after everything that had just happened.
When Duncan pushed through the huge doors that led outside the Tower, he kept on going as if it wasn't a big deal. Felicity and Kazar, however, stopped at the threshold.
The woman took a deep breath of the outside air, her face spreading into an exhilarated grin. "Do you smell it? Its vastness, opening up before us? All the possibilities!"
Kazar didn't deign to respond to her—she had still snitched to the Templars about Jowan's plan, after all. Instead, he took two steps out the door and looked up at the place that had been his cage for the last twelve years. Hadn't he wanted to be free of it? So then why did the prospect of leaving it now make his stomach twist in anxiety?
The tower was so tall. It seemed to look over all of Thedas, but really its view was so very, very small.
No, he wouldn't be scared about this. He was glad he was leaving. No more holding back because it made the enchanters nervous. No more having to sit quietly for hours on end. No more run-ins with a certain enchanter who always made him want to scream and burn everything. No more blasted Templars, watching every little step, just waiting for the opportunity to run an innocent mage through.
He was free of it all. Like an apostate in that he was free from Circle rule, and yet he would never have to worry about the Templars trying to hunt him down for it. They could no longer touch him! In retrospect, this was the best thing that could have happened to him.
Smirking, he turned away from his view of the tower. Duncan was waiting for them patiently down by the dock. Kazar headed down the worn path between them with a spring in his step.