May the Maker Watch Over You
Chapter 10
Inspiration: Battle at Helm's Deep from Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, arsenic and ricin poisoning, poems and spells, Latin language, Dragon Age: Awakening, What We Choose by Crisium
A/N: When I started writing this chapter, I honestly didn't think it would get this long. After writing it, I though I would split it into two chapters, but thought it really wouldn't work out…so instead we get a really long chapter. Lots of things happen and I am really pleased with the outcome of this chapter. I just want to thank all everyone that has been reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. I hope you continue to like this story as I have grown quite attached to these characters and have plans to write some other stories concerning them. If you are interested, I will be posting a new story about Ashiva during and after the Fifth Blight in a few weeks.
Be sure to let me know what you think and review after reading this chapter! Thanks again and enjoy!
This wasn't what she expected when she stepped into the warden prison. She really couldn't remember what she had thought she would find. The air was heavy and smelt of burnt wood and mold. The veil was thin in the dark cavern. The taste of lyrium tickled the back of her throat, making her clench her jaw, and wake with night terrors.
Laying on her bedroll, Ashiva looked above her into the vast darkness. The lyrium all around her made her head and muscles ached from the fight to stay in control. The water dripping in the distance, mice rustling on loose pebbles and the faint conversation near the campfire kept her from drifting into the abyss.
She shifted to lay on her side, lifting the coin in her hand to reflect the fire. The elf smiled, rubbing the smooth edges. Before departing for the decrepit prison, Cullen had pulled her aside, uncertainty etched in the creases in his forehead. She had noticed how he clutched his sword as they traveled the desert. He could sense it too, the strong pull of the fade. He took her hand in his, placing the coin in hers.
"For luck," he had whispered, pulling away from her to assist his men with the camp. He kept his stance professional, like a templar speaking with a senior enchanter. Even though their worlds collided, Cullen was still a templar, just as she was still a mage.
Ashiva clutched the coin tightly. She knew that false wall was slowly crumbling around them. It had been crumbling since she found him years ago in Kirkwall during the Qunari raid. The letters and fleeting visits had created a bond between them. She couldn't imagine going back to the way it was before. The regrets they both held had led them to being near strangers.
The elf knew her affections towards the man were strong. She always cared for him. Even as a young apprentice, she noticed him on one side of the chantry as she sat on the other. Now that she had grown to know him, to be close to him, she only wanted more. She wondered if he felt the same.
He had come to her aid in Kirkwall as well as on the trail through the Vinmark Mountains, giving her reason to believe that perhaps he had feelings towards her. She noticed his smiles were lighter when she told him stories by the fireside, and how his gaze lingered on her as she moved through the camp.
Although no words had been spoken, the elven mage was willing to risk it for Cullen. She wanted to break down the walls they had built because of their stature in their lives. Ashiva had come to the conclusion that she wanted Cullen, no matter the cost.
Movement beside her bedroll alerted her, rapidly tucking the coin back into her breast pouch. She twisted her head around to look behind her, sighing in aggravation before turning to fully look at the young warden mage. "What is is Ben?"
She came across Ben in Denerim, stealing food from one of the carts. Seeing his potential when he attacked her with lightning, she had offered him a chance join the wardens. He was young, messy brown hair falling in his eyes. He shifted his eyes to the left and the right, as if trying to find someone else to speak to her. "Uh-Commander, Oghren sent me. He said there was something he wanted you to see."
Knitting her dark brows together, she pushed herself up, muttering to younger Warden to give her a moment to put the rest of her armor back on. She messed with the straps of her armor, sheathed her dagger onto her boot, grabbed her pouch of elfroot and lyrium potions and finally clenched spellweaver into her hand. Ashiva had learned that it was better to be prepared for the worse.
Oghren wasn't far outside of camp, leaning against his axe. The dwarf had changed since becoming a hero in Vigil's Keep during the darkspawn siege. He had grown confidence in his skills, taking a more leading role in training new recruits. Although he still liked to drink, Ashiva had made a point of letting the bartenders around the Keep and Amaranthine to limit the dwarf's drinking. He looked up at her, the shadows marking his face appeared grim.
The elf raised an eyebrow. "You needed me."
The berserker shrugged. "The nug-licker couldn't make a proper torch flame. Thought you could teach him a thing or two."
Rolling her eyes, she whispered the short enchantment. Green flames roared to life on Oghren's torch along with five other wardens standing around them. "Was that really why you needed me? You could have asked another mage to do that."
"Well, that was one reason," Oghren commented. "There's something else too. Thought you might want to see it for yourself."
The past two days, she had seen more than she ever wanted to see again. Dispelled magic cells that held demon corpses, darkspawn, and documents that gave her a glimpse of just what the place was used for. It made her stomach twist. Then there had also been the insistent whispers, temptations and promises that ringed in the back of her head. Flicking her wrist, she summoned a light wisp and followed the dwarf silently.
Spellweaver glowed by her side, reflecting the blood red stonewalls around them. They had traveled far from camp, deep into the center of the prison. The magic around her was stronger, almost suffocating. The elven mage was in a haze, overwhelmed by the power she felt.
"Is this...lyrium," she asked, bewildered as she looked around her.
"Doesn't look like it," Oghren stated beside her. "But the stone, the song is a lot like Isana."
"It's growing in the walls," Ashiva said, astounded looking up at the endless ceiling above her.
"Aye," Oghren agreed. "This stuff isn't natural."
"What is it though," she whispered, her fingers lingering near the red crystals. She felt her mana slipping from her lingering near the rock structures. The humming reminded her of something.
Pulling her hand from the crystal, Oghren chided. "Careful Commander, if this is lyrium, it could kill you. Mages and lyrium don't mix."
"Lyrium...red lyrium," she mused. "I think I heard about something like this before. Someone had found it in the deep roads years ago."
"Yeah, made tons of silver from it. From what I remember, it was a dwarf and the Hawke siblings," Oghren added, looking up at her. "Do you hear it?"
She stopped, closing her eyes. She was familiar with the sound of lyrium, humming that could lull her to sleep like a lullaby. Ashiva could hear it ringing in her ears, but something was different.
"Somethins' not right," Oghren explained. "Reminds me of somethin' my mother once said. 'Eat a live rat first thing in the morning and nothing worse can happen to you for the rest of the day.'"
Ashiva raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with this?"
"Nothin' really," he said nonchalantly, stepping away from the red stalactite. "This looks like singing stone, Commander, but something isn't right. Its like its sick or something."
"Sick lyrium," She looked up at the cavern, the crystals growing in the darkness towards the source at the top of the tower. "What is making it sick?"
Oghren grunted, waving behind her. "Don't know, but whatever it is, I think we'll find it at the top. The nug-licker here thinks it's growing from it."
Ashiva glanced at the young mage behind her. Ben shifted anxiously. "What makes you think that."
The mage pointed at the large crystals near the center of the cavern. "Studying crystal growth ma'am," he stated. "the growth here suggest that the source is coming from above."
Ashiva chewed her bottom lip, she opened her pouch where she kept Bethany's hand drawn map. "Bethany never mentioned this portion of the prison."
Tori, a former templar that had become sick when the darkspawn raided Amaranthine, rolled her eyes. Although thankful and loyal to her post in the Grey Wardens, the woman had little trust in mages. "Maybe the Mage forgot to mention it. She is friends with that dwarf."
Ashiva glared at Tori, disliking the insinuation. "If Bethany saw this, she would have told me."
"Perhaps this isn't the route she took," another warden, Varvin, suggested questioningly. Varvin had been an elven merchant and had survived the darkspawn siege. He had been infected with the taint after he had been struck on his leg. He was only days from dying when she had returned from the Dragonbone Wastes, insisting to take part in the joining.
She considered it, her eyes glazing over the map critically. "Perhaps," she said, slowly. She glanced at the six wardens, all from different backgrounds. Tori, a formal templar. Varvin, an elven merchant. Oghren a dishonored dwarf. Ben, a orphaned child on the streets. Rawley, a retired knight from the Queen's army. Fennar, a Dalish hunter injured by darkspawn as she was on a hunt. Each of them were so different, yet under her command. They trusted her. She couldn't fail them.
Conjuring a wisp, it moved ahead of the small company. "Let's keep going. I think we might see something up ahead."
Since his eyes laid on the ebony haired elf, he knew something was wrong. The familiar smell of lyrium, cinnamon, and pine had been replaced with smoke and the fade. Her smiles were her own, her eyes glistening in devotion. To what, he did not know. He knew it wasn't for him though.
Cullen watched his wife speak to Warden Alistair. The Inquisitor had halted their march through the ruins to investigated with a select few in the small corridors. Alistair had been distracted on an earlier scrimmage, tearing a ligament in his shoulder. The Mage was chiding him, her hand glowing softly, a healing spell.
The Commander clenched his teeth. He wanted to smite the doppelgänger and demand answers to where his Ashiva was. His that was terrible at healing spells. His that smelt of lyrium, elf root and lavender.
He clutched the wall behind him, the ruins spinning around him. His head pounded, the lyrium addiction crumbling him. The ex-Templar murmured a prayer. He would not be hindered now when he was needed. Not when Ashiva was Maker knows where.
"Commander Cullen?"
Cullen opened his eyes lifting his head to look at the Inquisitor. Her arm had been bandage, but required time to heal still. She shivered in her thin wool cloak, the weather gradually getting worse. She looked at him curiously.
He picked himself up from the ground. "Ready when you are Inquisitor," he replied.
"Is everything alright," she asked, her head tilting towards Ashiva.
He was wary to tell his suspicions that the woman that was his wife was not. At the moment he had the upper hand on the look-alike. Cullen forced smile at the golden eyed elf looking at him. "Never better, Evelyn."
Ashiva moved towards them, her pale lips twitching into a hesitant smile. "The demon isn't far now, Inquisitor. Just behind these doors here."
Cullen didn't listen to the Ostwick warrior's reply. He kept his gaze on the demon before him.
Thunder roared above them, rain pattering on the silverite armor they wore. The rain though was the least of their concerns. The chaos of battle had begun at nightfall, wardens fighting against wardens. The Ferelden Wardens had prepared the best they could with the limited time they had. They secured the women and children in the Great Hall, barricaded the lower gates and stationed archers ready at the ramparts.
Oghren swung his axe wildly, catching the demon's limb before he pushed the creature from the tower with his boot. He grumbled under his breath, his thoughts going back to a battle similar to this nearly a decade before. The only difference was it had been darkspawn that roamed the lower gates, not brothers-in-arms.
He wiped the rain from his eyes, scanning the grounds below. Two pride demons pawed at the heavy wooden gates. They had already opened enough for the wardens to move through one at a time. The Silver order was vigilant, slashing at the wardens as they came through. More ladders fought to hook onto the ramparts. The Fereldan mages conjured grease fires down the wooden steps. The smoke made the battle hard to seen from his vantage, making him swear under his breath.
Garvel stood behind him, his sword blocking the green fade creature's swing. "We need to pull back and regroup before they make it through the lower courtyards."
Oghren sneered. "Asschaps, I'm not loosing Vigil's Keep to these sissy twinkle fingers and their mindless friends."
"If we wait any longer to move, we might lose everything," Garvel shouted
The dwarf stopped, his eyes tearing up from the smoke that was nearly suffocating him. It was too much like before. Ashiva was not present to issue orders as an army marched through their ranks. He could hear the shouting from below; the pride demons had broken the doors, sweeping the men left and right with their arms.
"Get the mages and the former templar wardens to take down those demons and get the damn archers covering our retreat through market. We'll regroup there," Oghren ordered. "And find me Dworkin and get those catapults running."
"Ogre! Ogre," she screamed, taking cover from the massive rock the darkspawn had thrown. Ashiva could hear Oghren cackled uncontrollably not far from her position, hacking at the creatures with his axe. She peeked a glance at the dwarf, her anxiety escalating at the dwarf's tactics taunting the hurlock walking towards him. With a flick of her hand, she released the cold spell, chilling the darkspawn surrounding Oghren.
Pushing herself upright, she pointed her sword upwards, concentrating on the electrical charge surrounding her before releasing it towards the orge. The monster grunted, beady black eyes looking at her. The elf stared back intently, pointing her sword towards the giant, preparing to strike.
She could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand upright and the tingling in her skin. Holding the energy storm was becoming painful, but she refused to release it. Not until the right moment, the ogre charging towards her.
"Fulmina velox , diu fulmen," she whispered, feeling the air charge around her. "Eam tandem recepto robore."
Lighting exploded around them, the Wardens dropping to the ground for cover. The darkspawn screeched and screamed, scrambling to find shelter or to run. The ogre dropped to its knees, clawing at its face. The spell was stronger than usual, the lightning storm encompassing the entire cavern in bright white light. The red crystals above them glowed even brighter, as if absorbing the power.
Ashiva dropped her head to the stone floor, murmuring a prayer to the Maker. A thin sheet of sweat covered her body. The mage was familiar with the effects raw lyrium had on mages. This however, was stronger.
A hand patted her back strongly, giving her reason to tilt her head to look at her longtime friend. Oghren stared at her, his expression unreadable.
"You okay boss," he asked, looking around the small company that was beginning to form around them. It would only be a matter of time before the group noticed that she was compromised.
Shakily, she lifted herself from the ground, her eyes lingering on the red crystals that still glowed in the dark cavern. "Yeah," she replied, wiping her forehead with a handkerchief. Ashiva wouldn't go back to camp. Not until she knew the cause of this poisoned lyrium. "Let's keep moving."
"Surana, wake up," Nathaniel coaxed her, his gloved hands warming her chilled cheeks. Her eyes flickered opened, squinting in the white landscape. The weather was quickly getting worse, the wind blowing snow around them.
Ashiva looked around, becoming aware of the dead templars around them. She gripped the spear tightly in her hand, gritting her teeth. "How long," she croaked.
"Not long," the archer answered, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She knew he was lying by the way his left eye twitched. She'd normally call him out, but she had little energy to argue.
They had come across more corpses as they made their way through the halls. The endless sky above was her only reminder that she was not climbing her way to her death through Fort Drakon.
"We're almost out of the tower. Just stay awake a little longer," Nathaniel said. "There are healers in the Inquisition camp. They'll be able to help you."
She nodded, words not coming to her. Ashiva thought something was missing, but struggled to remember what. She could remember a boy in a large hat. What had been his name? No, not a boy.
"Where's the spirit?"
"Spirit?"
She was ready to explain when she felt it, a powerful surge of the fade. She clutched her chest, eyes moving upwards to the looming tower above. Snow touch her pale cheeks and the wind tousled her black hair, but she could see the green light peeking from the stone walls.
"We can't leave," she whispered, removing her arm from the warden's shoulder. She adjusted the oversized templar armor, her eyes never leaving the tower. "Not until I find the demon."
""Commander, you're injured. You can barely stand on your own. I will not take you up there to your death," Nathaniel argued, grabbing her hand.
"This isn't a conversation, Warden," asserted Ashiva. The past few weeks were becoming clearer to her. She remembered being trapped in a cell with red lyrium and the visits she had from the envy demon. She wouldn't let it win. She wouldn't let it destroy everything she had worked for.
She reached into the pockets of her armor, grabbing a vial. Without glancing at it, she chugged the contents, feeling the warm liquid strengthen her. "That spirit that helped us said Cullen was here. You said you followed the Inquisition here. That means that the people that came here to help me are up there fighting a powerful demon. We will not leave until that demon goes back to its hole in the fade."
"We can't hold the keep much longer ser," the young warden archer said fearfully. He couldn't be no older than the Boss had been when he first meet her years ago. His helmet was loose on his head, eyes looking at him expectantly at him for a miracle.
Another explosion rumbled the great hall; the dust lingering on the large chandelier stirred and fell around them. Oghren took a drink from his hip canister, disappointed that it wasn't something stronger than water. He looked over the records the Warden-Commander kept in her office, looking for an answer he wouldn't voice aloud.
The fighting had only gotten worse. The Ferelden Wardens had lost Vigil's Keep's lower courtyard. The vendor carts burned slowly in the background. They had lowered the silverite portcullis in the main courtyard. The merchants huddled in groups in the great room, whispering frantically to their families and friends. They thought it was the end. The Wardens without banners and demons would push through soon enough, destroying everything in their sight.
The dwarven warden drank deeply before spilling the contents on the tiny script belonging to the Hero of Ferelden. He cursed the woman for leaving him with this mess for a second time. He cursed the wardens that were tearing their home apart. He cursed the demons that came through the sodding rift near the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Lastly, he cursed himself for being sober and not thinking to salvage some ale from the local brewery near the front gates.
"Make sure the citizens grab what they can," ordered Oghren.
The archer looked at him, startled. "But...ser, where will they go? The enemy surrounds us."
Glowering at the young man, Oghren threatened. "What did I just order you to do you boy?"
The warden didn't hesitate or question anymore, saluting as he walked backwards from the office. Garvel leaned against the desk next to the dwarf, smoking the wooden pipe he used for special occasions, his eyes glazed in thought. Although maintaining his professionalism among his men and women fighting, he remained anxious. His young daughter huddled with the elven governess he hired nearly two years ago in the basement of the keep with the other women and children. The Seneschal knew there was no safe way to leave through the keep. They were trapped. "He's right dwarf," the human stated finally, voice gravelly from shouting orders. "It won't be long now."
"Aye, you're right," he agreed.
"Then what are we doing in here in this dust covered office," questioned Garvel. "Our men our cowering in their knickers while you sit in here roaming through decades of old documents. What is it you're looking for?"
Oghren didn't answer, flipping through the small folio desciernly.
Mistress Argent, chewed at her bottom lip nervously. "I concur with Ser Garvel," she confided. "We should be gathering the last of our supplies and preparing the last of our men for battle. Why do we linger here? What is it you search for Warden Oghren?"
Peering up at the woman over the book, the dwarf sighed. "After the darkspawn nearly destroyed the keep, Warden-Commander Surana worked alongside Voldrik to fortify the keep. Much of it was reconstructed. It took years, but much of the work that was done wasn't above the surface."
Garvel raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I'm aware she did those things."
"She didn't just work on the walls, Seneschal," Oghren hinted. "They came across ancient pathways through the basement. Warden Surana cleared the ancient paths of darkspawn and reinforced the tunnels."
"Tunnels below us. I wasn't aware of this. This isn't on any records at Weisshaut," Argent noted heatedly, grabbing the book the dwarf possessed.
"Arelessa Surana insisted no one know," Garvel pointed out, a puff of smoke surrounding him. "She didn't think it could be completed with the tunnel collapses."
Oghren lifted a large canvas from the shelf behind the desk, unraveling the large map. Scribbled in blue ink were different equations and diagrams. Circled seven times was Forlorn Cove, the location of a ruined chantry. He remembered Ashiva cleaning the area of bandits, having the Silverite Order patrol the region regularly. A small dashed line connected it to Vigil's Keep.
"I think the boss completed it," Oghren smiled behind his beard. "That sodding elf was always a few steps ahead of everyone."
It was the first time Alistair saw the Inquisitor's mark flare up, consuming the area in green light. He squinted, looking through the blinding light. The pride demon roared, whether from pain or anger, he didn't know, its body being consumed like it was on fire. It was only a matter of minutes before the rift was closed, Evelyn falling to her knees grasping the hand.
He walked forward to her, kneeling next to her. "So, that's what everyone is talking about," he said absently. "Are you okay?"
She looked at him, blue eyes glazed over, looking for something to grasp that was real. Emotions stirred in him at the look, remembering a time when another looked at him like that. She smiled sadly. "Yeah, I think I am. The damn anchor gets me everytime."
"Well despite the whole hand nearly exploding everything around us, I'm glad you didn't take the demon's offer."
The Inquisitor chuckled. "Virgins did sound pretty good though," she replied.
Alistair laughed, pushing his overgrown bangs away from his face. "Ahh, yeah. One thing I have learned from my experiences is to never trust a demon. Even if they do have virgins."
Evelyn smiled, patting him on the shoulder as she turned to her men, giving instructions. The Tevinter mage was moving boulders with a flicker of his wrist while another group scavenge the chests and belongings of the previous keepers. Tents were being put together, dwarves and mages already at work studying the tainted lyrium. Alistair cringed thinking of having to stay here any longer with the crystals. Since arriving in Emprise du Lion, the whisperings and dreams had only increased.
Sitting on a crumbled boulder, Alistair rubbed his temples. His head pounded and his muscles ached from resisting the calling. He closed his eyes, breathing in the pine smell that seemed to linger around the area. He missed the sounds of the ocean and the taste of salt in the air that was so familiar in Amaranthine. It had been nearly a year since he left, and five months since Wardens were hunting him. Despite what he told himself, he missed her the most. Ashiva had been his friend and companion for so long, it was hard not to know when he began and she ended. They had been nearly inseparable since the fifth blight. He had worried over her when she had left, seeking a cure. Now that she was here, he couldn't help but feel peace.
"It's not her."
Alistair looked up, squinting at the large hat and white hair. "Pardon?"
"You see her, but it's not her," the boy repeated, his cool gaze falling on the elf. "The real one is fighting, praying, and dying."
The warden's eyebrows lowered in confusion, pushing himself to stand up. He was about ready to say something when everything happened from the corner of his eye.
Evelyn's startled cry alerted him. He raised his blade, bewildered to see Ashiva holding the Inquisitor over the edge of the fort with magic he was not familiar with. Swords were raised around him, all pointing to the warden. He pushed forward, shielding the mage from the threat.
"The Inquisitor is a traitor and a fraud. She will destroy everything," Ashiva shouted. "I saw what you have done, what you plan to do. I won't allow anymore, Herald."
"Warden-Commander Surana, stand down," Cullen ordered. "If these acquisitions are true, then we must do this through a trial, not through bloodshed."
Ashiva turned her head, her amber eyes dissolving to a bright green. "There is no time. If I let her walk, everything will be gone."
Cullen sneered, his hardened gaze looking at Alistair. "This is not Ashiva, Alistair. This is nothing more than a demon that has taken her shape and voice. Surely you see this. Stand down Warden Alistair."
He wavered, his eyes lingering on the elf behind him. Was this really a demon? He lowered his shield, stepping back from the elf. "Ash, if it's really you, then you need to let the Inquisitor go. We can settle this back at camp."
"Lies! They're all lies, Alistair," Ashiva screamed, turning to face the blades pointed at her. Her face was twisted and sickly. She raised her hands, mumbling words softly.
The arrow wizzed passed him, piercing Ashiva's shoulder. The spell was disrupted, her screams piercing. Evelyn screamed, waiting for the impending doom to fall, but nothing happened. Alistair recognized the paralysis hex glyph surrounding the woman. Confusion and shouts ran through the Inquisition army, searching for the person responsible.
Alistair recognized Nathaniel perched on the stair rail, another arrow ready to strike another blow. Beside him a woman leaned heavily against a long pole spear, her amber eyes heavily concentrating on the spell. Despite the heavy templar armor and the bruises around her eyes, he recognized her anywhere.
"Ash?"
"Cullen, hurry and retrieve that woman. My spell won't last much longer," Ashiva said, her voice hoarse.
It cackled, its eyes flinting on mage in the distance. "You were suppose to be dead. I gave the order to have you put down."
The Warden-Commander limped towards the demon, her face grim. "It appears your henchmen failed. Now tell me what you wanted with me."
In a flash, the demon changed, its form scraggly and lean. It glared at the elf in disdain, tilting its head towards its audience. "You already know," it hissed. "I already told you. You'll die before you see it, though. You're already dying. You won't make it out of here alive."
The demon belted a high-pitched scream before to vanished in a puff of smoke, rising above the warriors surrounding it, moving towards the exit. A green barrier magically appeared, blocking their escape.
"That's not good," Alistair muttered.
"Can someone explain to me what the fade is going on," ordered Evelyn, stumbling away from the edge, ready for battle.
"Well Inquisitor, it appears we were tricked and now we're trapped on top of a crumbling building in a blizzard," Dorian retorted. "Might I suggest next time we travel to a warmer location where we won't be fighting for our lives."
Ashiva cursed. "We need to destroy this barrier," she stated. She pointed at Dorian. "You mage, we need to break this."
"Reinforcements are on their way," Nathaniel informed as red templars pushed through the barrier.
"Maker's breath," Cullen whispered, clenching his sword. "Archers, fire at will! Protect the mages."
Warden Alistair stepped in front of elf. He could already see the wear of conjuring the paraysis hex had done to her, "Ash, maybe you should rest."
"Maybe you should shut that mouth of yours and worry about your ass. I'm fine," she shouted, her eyebrow knitted in concentration, her breathing was haggard, sweat beading on her forehead.
He snorted, parrying and lunging at red templar aiming for the mage. "You look like shit. What did they even do to you?"
"Nothing that can't be taken care of with elfroot and rest," she grinned. "It's good to see you too, Ali."
"Just do me a favor and never do that again," he replied. "We've watched each other's backs for a decade. Next time I go with you."
The templars were no match to the Inquisition forces. Evelyn was a formidable opponent, slashing with precision of a rogue while Alistair and Cullen pushed themselves through the brutes. Cole moved through the battlefield like a shadow, appearing in short increments. Dorian and Ashiva worked together, blending their magic into the demon's barrier.
In a matter of minutes that felt like an eternity, the barrier shattered. The ruins rumbled beneath him from the explosion. Alistair staggered, checking the perimeter for more templars. Seeing none, he sighed in relief. "It's over."
"Envy is gone," Cole said softly. "It has plans."
"It doesn't matter right now," Evelyn stated. "We messed up what they had started here. It will take time for it to be able to formulate its plans. In the meantime, we need to report back to camp before this storm gets worse."
"Camp? I like the sound of that," Dorian muttered. "After all this time, warmth and a bed sounds wonderful."
Evelyn grinned, nudging the mage. "I think you earned it today my friend. I just hope Varric and the others came out unharmed."
"They're fine," Blackwall reassured her. "Probably already got a head start on dinner."
The Inquisitor shook her head, fighting the smile. She quirked an eyebrow at Alistair. "And what about you? Ready to call it a day, Warden?"
Alistair exhaled, the air puffing in the cold breeze. The adrenaline was wearing away, leaving him exhausted and sore from the overexertion. He tilted his head to the side. "Think you can walk out of here Ash?"
Turning to face the Warden-Commander, Alistair staggered. She sat on the ground, leaning on her elbows, her head in her hands. The elf's breathing was irregular, as if she couldn't get air into her lungs. She coughed violently, blood splattering the snow-covered ground. "Ash?"
They stepped into the soft glowing rotunda room. The griffon statues stood vigilant overlooking the raised altar in the center. Glancing over the edge, she could see in the distance the campfire where the Kirkwall Templars stayed. She felt her heart rapidly beating, wishing she could catch a glimpse of the knight-captain from where she stood. Had he thought of her like she had of him? She sighed, closing her eyes. Now wasn't the time to think over her longings. Ashiva forced herself to continue her investigation.
The room was empty, raided for anything of obvious value. She knew however, how Grey Wardens kept their secrets. She walked to the center of the room, clenching the knife from her boot. Cutting her finger, she placed it on the engraved griffin on each pedestal.
"Commander, what are you doing?"
She sighed, looking at the young mage. "Seeking answers, Ben," she explained.
Ben frowned. "You seek answers by cutting yourself? Isn't this blood magic?"
"Shush, shemlen," Fennar said. "Commander Surana knows what she's doing."
"Some answers require a price," Ashiva replied, touching the last griffin with her bloodied hand. The room rumbled, the floor at the center of the altar disappearing.
"Holy Maker, what was that," Tori exclaimed, stepping away from the altar.
Rawley raised his blade, his grey eyes staring at the hole. "Commander, this can't be good."
"This reminds me of the Temple of Sacred Ashes," Oghren mumbled behind her. "I'm watching your back, Commander."
The elven mage nodded her acknowledgement, crawling to the hole in the center. She peered inside. It was dark, darker than any corridor of the deep roads. Magic surrounded her, making her disoriented. A chill ran down her spine, but she remained still. She sought answers.
"Ben, hand me the lamp," she ordered. She took the lamp, lighting it with a flint. Holding it in her left hand, and Spellweaver in her right, she dangled her legs in the hole looking at the wardens. "Tori and I will go. You five will stay and search for anything left by wardens. The First Warden expects everything to be wiped from this place."
"This is crazy, Commander," Ben complained, pushing the hair away from his face. "It shouldn't just be you and her. She'll kill you if she suspects you losing control!"
"Shut up, mage," barked the templar, stepping towards the mage.
"I have a name Templar," Ben countered, stepping up to be eye to eye with the woman.
"Stand down, boy," Oghren, pushed between them.
Ashiva tilted her head, forcing a smile on her face. "It will be fine, Ben," she assured, nodding towards Tori to follow her. "We'll be back."
She dropped into the hole, fighting a scream as she landed in water knee deep. She pushed through the anxiety of drowning, lifting the torch to see around her. Tori joined her seconds later, falling with a grunt in the water.
"Damn, that drop was a doozy," the ex-templar stated, scratching the top of her head, the short cropped auburn hair sticking up from the ministrations.
"Stay alert, Warden," Ashiva said, waking through the enclosed space. "I sense we are close to the source."
The two women walked silently through the hidden corridor, their weapons unsheathed. Ashiva swallowed her fear, leading them through. The water grew in height, now wading in waist high. She inhaled slowly, stopping to control herself.
"Commander, it's okay," Tori whispered. "We can go back. Rawley probably wouldn't mind taking your place."
"I'm fine," Ashiva answered shakily.
"Ser, don't lie to me. You're not the only circle mage afraid of water," the woman retorted.
Exhaling, Ashiva glared at the templar. "Yeah, and why is that? Forced to stay in our stone prisons surrounded by a trial we can't fathom to cross without drowning," snapped the elf.
Tori stepped back, squinting in the light. "Commander, I didn't mean that. I only meant too...well...what I'm asking is if you are alright? You look pale...and you're shaking."
Blinking, Ashiva looked at her sword hand, her sword shaking in her grasp. She felt like she was on fire, yet she shivered as if exposed to the cold. Her mind felt foggy, and the voices only seemed to get louder the farther they went. "I don't know," she whispered, avoiding the templar's eyes. "I don't know what is happening to me. Since we came here, I've not felt like myself. I'm losing touch with reality...as if I am becoming one with the veil."
She heard the templar sigh behind her, the heavy armor rattling. "You're losing control over yourself. That's why you wanted me," Tori said, as if the revelation shook her.
Ashiva didn't console the women nor did she give her an answer. She moved forward, her hand touching a small indention in the stone. "It's here. I can feel it."
Her pale hands pushed on the stone. She could hear ancient wheels turn inside, a door opening beside them. Reminding herself to breath, she stepped into the small room, her torch reflecting off the small chest lying on the stone table. She melted the the simple lock with the touch of her fingers, opening the chest with little effort. Inside she found what she sought; documents of the construction of the prison and of the prisoner that once was enclosed here. She tucked it into her breast pocket.
"Did we find what we were looking for," Tori asked, looking around the small room.
Ashiva shook her head, stepping out of the room. She could hear it now, the singing. She moved toward the sound, only stopping until she found the red lyrium. It grew around a cracked sphere like ivy.
"This must have been where the prisoner was kept," Tori muttered. "It must have been incredibly powerful to be kept here for eternity. Why did Hawke awaken it?"
"Because it would have continued to bring its goons to him," Ashiva stated. "He did what he had to do. He killed it before it could gain its full strength."
"Are we done here?"
Ashiva tilted her head in concentration, lifting her hand towards the sphere. Before she could grasp what she was doing, her hand was on the object, a startled gasp escaping her lips.
"Commander," Tori grabbed her from behind, pulling the elf away from the stone. Ashiva fell limped in the templar's arms, staring at the stone glowing in the water. Images invaded her mind, burning images of fire and destruction. She clenched her eyes closed, fighting the overcoming pressure in her head.
"Dammit, Commander! Stay with me!"
She could hear it in her head. The song was everywhere and nowhere. In the darkness, the wordless song was slowly becoming a chant.
"Look upon the Temple of Dumat
God of Silence, who speaks to the faithful in dreams"
She could feel the veil enclosing on her, devouring her whole. Spellweaver burned brightly at her side, the once blue hue turning black.
"No words of desire may sway His will
No cry of valor may stand against Him"
"Shit, shit, shit," Tori screamed behind her. "Holy Maker, Please forgive me."
"For His Silence conquers all
And His Secrets are shared only with the worthy"
She gasped, the blade touching her shoulder. The magical field vanished, fading as she crumbled to her knees. Ashiva felt her mana draining from her, leaving her breathless. She could hear Tori shouting for assistance before she lost all consciousness.
"Ash?"
Cullen pushed through the small crowd gathering around the wardens. Alistair knelled next to Ashiva. From this close he could see it. The pale skin and blood red blotches around her eyes and neck. Her hands shook. He saw the blood on the ground that she had spat out. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was just as the envy demon had said. She was dying.
He dropped to her side, pulling her to rest against his chest. Her eyes were closed in heavy concentration, muttering something he couldn't understand. He pushed the hair sticking to her sweating forehead, tucking them carefully behind her pointed ears. "Stay with me, Ashiva. Stay with me."
She coughed. "I wish it was that easy, my dear lion," she whispered hoarsely.
Lowering his eyebrows in concentration, he lifted her eyelids. Her normally clear amber eyes were glazed over, the cornea tinted a pinkish red. Cullen swore, looking at the archer standing near by. "How much lyrium has she had?"
Nathaniel blinked slowly, looking down at the Warden Commander. "I gave her a vial when I found her. Being imprisoned by templars, I thought she had been depleted of her mana and she needed to heal herself before we could move."
"So, just one," he asked, lowering Ashiva to her side as she began to twitch violently in his arms. Her fist were clenched, white and nearly translucent.
"No, she found another, in the clothing she wore. She drank it before we came up here," Nathaniel answered.
Ordering Alistair to hold the elf down, he checked the templar armor pockets, grasping three vials in the hip pocket. Taking them out, he swore under his breath, seeing the residue on the glass to be red. Red lyrium.
"No wonder she was able to keep conjuring despite her injuries," he swore under his breath. He was familiar with mana imbalances where a mage would intake enough lyrium to kill themselves. He also knew that red lyrium was known to give templars stronger powers. Was this why the mage was able to walk despite her injuries and to use incredible magic after being depleted for nearly a month? He pounded his fist on the ground. "Dammit, Ash."
"The song is loud, calling her. She fights it, but it's no use...it will soon devour her," whispered Cole.
Magic swirled around her as she spasmed, forcing the crowd to step away. Solemnly, he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out the vial of lyrium he made before he came to Emprise du Lion. He had sworn to stop, to remove this one thing that kept him tied to the templars and away from her. He looked at it, the blue glowing in the dim light.
Evelyn grabbed his shoulder as he uncorked the glass container, her gaze uncertain. "Cullen, what are you doing? You said you were done with that lifestyle."
"And if I don't do something, she will die," Cullen argued. "and I will never forgive myself, if that happens."
The Inquisitor opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, nodding her understanding as she stepped back. With one final look at the blue potion, he drank it. Grabbing his sword, he stepped into the magic field raising his blade, smiting the mage.
Isana-dwarven word for lyrium
Fulmina velox , diu fulmen- (Latin) Lightning quick , long bolt
Eam tandem recepto robore- (Latin) It finally regained strength