Disclaimer: Nope, still not owning Dragon Age. But if they wanted to rent me Jowan by the hour, I'd certainly take them up on it.

Author's Notes: So I've decided that, officially, I'm going to be putting the expected update schedule of Arcanum at once a month right now. This isn't concrete - if I get a chapter done sooner than that then I'll post it, but with the number of projects I have right now and various other life things, due to the size and scope of Arcanum's chapters I think once a month is about as realistic as I can get at this point. Since that's basically how I've been posting the last few chapters I hope that won't put anyone off from reading it, I just wanted to state clearly what the update schedule is going to be like until I get some of my other projects wrapped up and off my plate.

^.^ With that, I'd like to once again thank Teakwood, who finally conceeded a point to me in our ongoing debate over blood magic. :D I am triumphant!

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Arcanum: Fatum

Chapter Twenty-One: Sanguis Magicam

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"Let's stop here for the night."

Yllia stopped walking and turned to look at the others, and was greeted with a mixture of relief and agreement as she did so. Not a one of them was opposed to ceasing their trek and setting up camp for a night, and Yllia felt a twinge of guilt when she saw that even Sten was voicing no protest. She knew the fast, relentless pace they'd kept since leaving Redcliffe had been because of her. And she knew they knew why, but thankfully not a one of them had tried to talk to her about it while they traveled. Not even Alistair.

The next moments were filled with the sound of equipment and packs being dropped to the ground, the rustling of the tents being unfurled and set up, the scraping sounds of Leliana preparing the campfire – it was her turn. Most of the sounds were right around her; some distance away she could hear similar ones as Morrigan prepared her own separate camp.

"Yllia…?"

The voice was right next to her; Yllia jumped, startled, and turned to see Jowan standing next to her, looking more than a little uncertain and lost. The puppy-dog expression on his face made it hard to believe that he was actually the elder of the two of them, and there was that twinge of guilt again; he'd trailed behind her most of the day, not saying a word and trying to keep up despite clearly being out of his element. Being on the run from the templars didn't necessarily equip someone for the kind of traveling that they had been doing, particularly if the one leading the way had the benefit of Grey Warden stamina.

Jowan had his pack and bedroll tucked into his arms. "I was just wondering what I should be doing with these," he said softly, glancing down as he spoke. The action made Yllia's heart ache – Jowan had always been shier than most, but he'd never avoided eye contact as much as he was doing now.

Yllia dropped her own pack to the ground. "Put it down and help me put the tent up," she said with a smile, unhooking said tent from the rest of the bundle she'd been forced to carry. The muscles of her back and shoulders sang with relief once the heavy load was gone; was it too farfetched to daydream about being able to procure a mule or a pack horse at some point on this journey?

Although it was apparent that Jowan had no experience putting up tents – which made Yllia cringe to think about what kind of shelter he might have had or not had during his escape – he was nothing if not eager, and they had their tent set up and staked in near record time. They worked in silent tandem; she and Jowan had always made a good team, and years of being able to anticipate each other's actions weren't something that a few mere months and some blood magic could cast aside. He, being the taller of the two, supported the frame while Yllia, being the more nimble, got the stakes settled into place efficiently.

"Not bad," Alistair commented from behind them when the tent was secure and not in danger of being knocked over by anything but the harshest wind. Both mages started, unaware that their teamwork had been watched, and Jowan flushed and averted his eyes when he saw the larger warrior. Yllia flashed her fellow Warden a grin.

"Thanks," she said. "Any trouble with yours?"

"Unless you count your mabari staking a claim on it once it was set up, no," Alistair said wryly, nodding over towards where he'd set up his tent, which currently had the rear end of said dog sticking under the tent flap. "You know, for a dog that's supposed to be bred to handle Ferelden weather, he's starting to get spoiled."

"I couldn't very well let him sleep out in the rain when we ran into those few showers on the way to Redcliffe," Yllia said defensively, earning a broader grin from Alistair and, to her surprise, a soft chuckle from Jowan's direction. She scowled at him. "Don't you start in on me, too."

He gave her an innocent smile, which she knew was not as innocent as he pretended it to be, and she raised an eyebrow in response. "Watch it," she threatened. "Remember who you're sharing a tent with – and I'm just as good with cold spells as I am with fire."

"I'm fairly certain that is not what all those lessons in self-control were intended for," Wynne said in amusement from a bit away. She'd set up her tent fairly close to Jowan and Yllia's, Yllia noticed, and she tried not to bristle too much at it. She was sure that Irving had given Wynne orders to keep an eye on Jowan – for although Yllia was a Grey Warden now, Wynne's ties were still to the Circle, and until Jowan officially went through a Joining he was still an apostate blood mage. She hoped Wynne didn't intend on keeping too close of an eye on Jowan, though, because there were still a lot of questions that Yllia herself had to ask her friend.

She brushed her hair back from her face, scowling slightly. It was longer now, and even with her normal banded locks it was beginning to have a tendency to end up in her face when she least desired it to. I'm going to have to either find a way to cut it without cutting myself, or figure out a new style, she thought with a mental grumble. Since a pair of shears wasn't among their supplies, and she didn't dare go at it with a dagger, it was starting to look like the latter was winning out. "I'll see what I can do about bribing him out of there before you're ready to sleep," she promised Alistair, returning to the topic of Rhys. "Feel up to keeping an eye on things here while Jowan and I go get some wood for the fire?"

Alistair hesitated, glancing between the two of them and looking very much like he did not want to do that, and Yllia gave him a silent, pleading look. She needed to talk to Jowan, and she needed Alistair to trust her – if not him – enough to let her do it alone. She let out a breath of relief when she saw him relent, first in his eyes and then in his posture. "Go on," he said. "We'll take care of the rest of everything."

She gave him a brilliant smile and then turned, catching Jowan's arm at the elbow. "Come on, Jowan," she said. "Let's get some fire wood." A startled look came over Yllia at the abruptness, but he didn't argue – he was used to her grabbing him and dragging him off to whatever her next thing was. Their departure didn't go unnoticed by Wynne, but before the older woman could say or do anything she was instantly intercepted by Leliana, who was holding two different sized pans in her hands and oh-so-innocently asking Wynne for her opinion over which would be the better to use for the ingredients they had for that evening's meal.

When they were deeper in the trees and out of sight of the camp, Yllia slowed her pace and released Jowan. "Sorry," she quickly apologized when he brought his hand up and rubbed at his wrist. "I didn't mean to grab you so tightly. Good thing I wasn't wearing those gloves Leliana tried to give me, isn't it?" Since finger movements were essential to spell casting, Yllia had chosen to forgo the gloves that had gone along with the light leather armor she'd obtained from Teagan. She didn't care if that meant she had to use her bare hands to hold her staff – she'd been doing that all of her life.

"It's all right," Jowan said softly, his head bowed. "You didn't actually grab it that hard, just…" He faltered, his voice trailing off. He turned his head slightly, the long strands of his hair concealing his eyes. Yllia wasn't used to Jowan having such long hair – he'd always kept it on the shaggy side, but not enough so that it could hide his face.

Her eyes flickered to his wrist and the ginger way that he was still holding it. "May I?" she asked softly, reaching out and gently catching his arm just below his wrist. He tensed and hesitated, then turned his head slightly back towards her and nodded.

She drew his arm towards her and pushed up his sleeve, drawing in a sharp breath when she did so. A ring of heavy bruising and scraped flesh encircled his wrist, an inch thick in diameter. The scrapes no longer bled, scabbed over now, but the bruises had been deep – they were only just now beginning o shift the green and yellow healing stage on the edges, the center of the bruise still dark.

"Oh, Jowan," she said softly. "This… did this happen at Redcliffe?"

Jowan swallowed audibly and then nodded. "When the Arlessa first had me thrown in the dungeon," he said softly, "they had me chained up so that I couldn't use my magic. Even after they started to feed me the magebane they kept me in the manacles, so that I couldn't defend myself when they were trying to get the antidote out of me." His voice grew choked. "They…they didn't believe me when I said I didn't know the antidote. And then, when the undead started coming…"

He stopped and took a deep breath to compose himself. "The magebane still hasn't worn off enough for me to use my magic," he said softly. "I haven't been able to heal myself yet." His cheeks reddened. "Not that I was ever that good at it anyway…"

"Here." Yllia reached into her side pack and withdrew a small health poultice and a bandage. With nimble fingers she spread he poultice over his wrists and then wrapped them with the clean cloth, tying each one off securely. "This should help with the scrapes and the swelling. I'm sorry I can't do more."

Jowan winced as she tended to the injuries, but relaxed once she was finished. "It's more than enough," he said, giving her a shy smile. "Thank you."

"Any time. These should have been treated as soon as they took the shackles off." Yllia shook her head in disgust. "And at the very least before we left Redcliffe. Why didn't you say anything?"

Jowan's cheeks flushed. "It was enough that I was able to get food and a bath, and they weren't hurting that much anyway. I just…"

"DIdn't want to cause any trouble?" Yllia finished. She shook her head. "That's just like you, Jowan. You've always chosen the least troublesome path – always trying to stay under the radar, never trying to stand out in one way or another."

"Except for my lack of magical talent and being the oldest apprentice in Circle history," Jowan muttered caustically, then yelped when Yllia suddenly punched him hard on the shoulder.

"Knock it off!" Yllia snapped, her eyes flashing angrily. "I didn't let you put yourself down like that back at the tower, and I'm not about to let you start doing it now – especially now! We don't have time for self-pity and moping, Jowan, not when the darkspawn are moving north as we speak."

At the mention of the darkspawn Jowan paled, looking first highly shaken and then decidedly ashamed. His blue-gray eyes looked pained. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "This… everything is really screwed up now, isn't it?"

Yllia felt her anger drain out of her as quickly as it had risen up. She sighed, then brought her hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "Pretty much," she said softly. "Why, Jowan? Why did you do it? And why didn't you tell me? Why let me find out like that?"

Jowan bit his lip, then sighed and stepped away from her. He walked over to a fallen tree, sitting on the moss-covered bark and resting his arms on his legs. "I never meant to hurt anyone by it," he said quietly. "I just… nothing else was working. Everyone I knew had something special they could do, some kind of talent that came to them naturally – and not just naturally, but unique. Most magi only excel in one school – you were good in Elemental and Primal. And Anders – he wasn't just a Creation prodigy, he was a Spirit Healer. Next to the two of you I just felt weaker and weaker." He looked downcast.

Yllia wrapped her arms around herself, looking at the man who had been her best friend – practically her brother – for most of her life. "You were…jealous of us?" she asked softly.

"No!" Jowan looked up and shook his head, his eyes wide. "No, that wasn't it at all! I mean, Anders would give me a hard time about it every time I ran into another snag in class, but he did that to everyone. And you never once rubbed it in my face – when I had trouble with something that was easy for everyone else, you did whatever you could do to help me. If it weren't for you I probably would have been even further behind. And that was okay with me. It was okay with me that I was behind everyone else, so long as we were still together."

He clasped his hands together tightly, shoulders tensing as he hunched forward slightly. "Then everything started changing. All of the apprentices who came to the Circle with us had their Harrowings. I'm not a fool; I knew it was only a matter of time before you were called, and I knew I was nowhere near ready for it. I began to panic, because being Harrowed meant you'd be a full Mage. It meant you'd leave the apprentice quarters and go up to the next level of the Tower, and I'd be left alone.

"I knew the only way for me to be able to go through my own Harrowing would be if I were able to get stronger and start proving that I could handle it, but I didn't want to take time away from your studies anymore than I already had. You were taking extra classes around that time, so while you were occupied with those, I was able to explore the library alone without you knowing."

Yllia remembered the period that he was talking about. Six months before finally being approved for her Harrowing, Yllia had requested to take a number of extra classes and tutelage in as many schools and theories as the Circle would allow her to take. None of the apprentices were permitted to know what the Harrowing actually entailed, so it was impossible to prepare for exactly what they would face. Most apprentices never bothered to do so, believing that the Templars wouldn't put them through the Harrowing if they didn't already have the skills needed to survive. Yllia's view of the Templars was not so altruistic, and so she had decided that if she couldn't know precisely what to prepare for, she would simply prepare for it all.

In the end she'd been thankful for it. There was nothing like facing down a Pride demon and coming out unscathed to make you re-evaluate the importance of studying.

She remembered also that it was during this period of time that she had begun to feel a strain in her friendship with Jowan. Used to his constant presence in her life, his absence during her rare free moments had not gone as unnoticed as he seemed to believe, and yet she hadn't pursued it – she'd simply assumed it was because of her own busy schedule. It hadn't been until after her Harrowing that they'd been able to have their first real conversation in what had felt like months…and it had led to events that had changed the course of her life forever.

She felt a stab of guilt then. That single conversation – she hadn't even noticed the change in Jowan then. He'd never been good at hiding anything from her, and yet she'd never suspected his secret. Had they really drifted apart so much that she'd lost her ability to read him? The blood magic, his relationship with the Chantry sister Lily, the threat of Tranquility and his uncharacteristic desire for escape… none of that had been the Jowan she had known.

"So while I was taking extra classes, you were…studying in the library?" Yllia asked. "You could have just asked to take the same lessons I was taking, Jowan. Enchanter Thekla wouldn't have minded, and neither would I."

Jowan shook his head slowly. "I didn't think supplemental lessons would have helped me," he said. "I always had trouble with regular classes. I wanted…I wanted to find something different. Something new, or maybe a different approach to something that I hadn't been able to get before. All of those books there, and there just…just had to be something.

"I couldn't find anything, though. I looked through book after book after book, but I couldn't find anything. I was almost ready to give up – and that's when I found it."

The way he said the word made Yllia look at him more intently, watching his expression. It had shifted a little, growing more focused, more intent as he spoke. Even more than that, the tentative tone of his voice had become stronger, confident even.

"That night in the library I'd fallen asleep while reading out in one of the corners, and the Templar on guard duty there must not have noticed me when he did his sweep through before locking up," Jowan continued, and though his voice didn't grow in volume that confidence continued to gather. "When I woke up the lights were down and there was no one there. I was about to leave through the second entrance – you know, the one that Anders told us how to use?" Yllia nodded and he went on, "But before I did, it occurred to me that there was one part of the library that I hadn't checked yet. That I couldn't have checked, because I wasn't a Harrowed mage."

Yllia drew in a sharp breath, her eyes glittering suddenly with anticipation. "The Restricted Section?" she asked breathlessly. "But it's kept locked at all times – you need permission from the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander in order to get access to it!" And apprentices were never granted permission to access the tomes and scrolls located within that room.

Jowan nodded. "It's only a physical lock, though," he said, "not a spell. And, well…" His cheeks reddened slightly, "I wasn't entirely ignoring some of Anders' escape tales. Remember the story about how he got trapped in that root cellar?"

Yllia's lips twitched in amusement, and she nodded. "I remember." And she remembered the modified opening spell that Anders' had devised on the spot to get out of the mess, which he had told the two of them in hushed whispers. She'd listened with rapt attention; Jowan had feigned indifference as he often did when Anders started talking about his escape attempts.

But apparently he hadn't been as indifferent as he'd pretended. "You cast that spell?" she asked, unable to help but feel impressed – and it just went to show that Jowan wasn't as bad off as he, and their instructors, all seemed to think he was. Anders had only described the spell; he hadn't even shown it to them, but Jowan had managed to pick up enough to cast it himself. Anders had been particularly detailed, she recalled, and Jowan had always had a knack for details.

Jowan's cheeks reddened. "I had to try a few times before I got it to work," he admitted. "Anyways, once I got the door opened I went inside to look around."

"What did they have in there?" Yllia asked, intrigued. "Ancient scrolls? Original editions? Lost magical secrets? Was it dark and musty? Were there cobwebs?"

"Actually…it was pretty disappointing," Jowan admitted. "It was dark, because the lights were out, but there wasn't a bit of dust anywhere. I think it's cleaned regularly. Most of the books just seemed to be more advanced versions of the ones they give us as apprentices." He hesitated, and then dropped his voice softly. "Not all of them, though."

Yllia gently touched his arm, a silent urging to continue.

"I almost went right past it," Jowan said softly. "It was tucked away on one of the shelves in the corner, where it looked like they kept the oldest of the books. I don't know why it was there. It was the last thing I'd ever expected to find in the Circle library, but there it was – a book on the theory and application of sanguis magicam."

Yllia couldn't suppress her shudder. "Blood magic," she whispered.

Jowan nodded. "It was written right there on the spine, in Arcanum – at first I just picked it up because I couldn't believe it was actually what it said it was. And then I started reading it and…Yllia, I've never had a school of magic come easily to me, you know that. I can't cast even a simple healing spell, and it took us days before I could manage to control a simple ice spell. I can't follow the theory at all – the only reason I figured out Anders' unlocking variation was because he wouldn't stop talking about it, but if I try the original version I just end up blowing things up instead of opening them.

"But the information that was in that book…Yllia, I understood it. From page one and on to every other page after that I read, it all clicked. It all made sense, every last bit of it, from the point of theory straight through to the purpose of application... I understood…" His breath caught, hitching, and he closed his eyes. "And it terrified me."

"Jowan," Yllia whispered, her heart aching at the pain and fear in his voice, that unexpected confidence that had arisen in him suddenly faltering. Impulsively she reached over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. He brought his hand up to grip on of her arms, and she could feel the slight tremors that were running through his body.

After several moments of silence she drew back, her expression intent. "It's obvious that this is hard for you to talk about," she said softly, "but I have to ask. You're saying that you learned about blood magic from this book, but…" She faltered, then gestured helplessly, apologetically. "You know what they teach us, Jowan. That blood magic is born through a bond between mage and demon."

Jowan instantly shrank back from her, paling as he protested, "I didn't! I've never even met a demon, the closest I've ever come was the one that came to Connor in Redcliffe and I never actually saw it! I swear, Yllia – I did not make a pact with a demon!"

"But back at the Tower –"

Jowan suddenly leapt to his feet, taking several steps away from her and then turning back, anxious and earnest and pleading. "Hear me out," he begged, holding up his hands in placation. "After reading the book, I suspect that what we've been told in the Tower is actually a very biased view of blood magic. The Circle – and the Chantry – claim that blood magic comes from demons, but I don't think it's actually as black and white as that – if it was there's no way I could have learned how to do it just from reading a book.

"I think what actually happens is that when a demon approaches a mage, it offers to teach them blood magic – but only if they'll make a pact or an exchange with them. But if a mage already knows the theory and the basics, there's actually no reason for them to need the demon at all. Just like with any other school of magic, if you understand the fundamentals…"

"…then you understand the spells," Yllia finished slowly, repeating something Enchanter Thekla had told them repeatedly during his classes. Slowly she absorbed what Jowan was saying, her stomach twisting uncomfortably as she did so. "But the Circle has always taught blood magic as being evil. Look at the maleficar, at the sacrifices they perform…"

Jowan twisted his hands together anxiously. "I learned a lot of things from that book, Yllia," he said softly, "and one thing that was painfully clear to me was how powerful blood magic is. And it's powerful because unlike the other schools of magic, which depend upon lyrium for their power sources, blood magic gets its strength from blood itself. Any blood, whether it's the mage's or someone else's." He fixed his gaze on hers. "Think about it, Yllia."

She did. She saw the answer as plain as day, and the realization floored her so thoroughly it almost stole her breath away.

It was all about control. Alistair had told her as much during their first meeting in Ostagar, when he'd revealed his past training as a templar and had spoken candidly about the lyrium addiction that so many of the templars found themselves under. Although the lyrium itself was mined and processed by the dwarves, it was the Chantry who controlled the surface world's primary supply of it. Templars and Circle mages alike were allotted a certain stipend, and if more was needed for a particular task (such as the spell they'd performed at Redcliffe), permission had to be requested to obtain it. In this way the Chantry could not only secure the loyalty of its templars, but it could also control the volume and type of magic used by the Circles.

Blood magic was a threat to that control. Set aside of obvious and grotesque misuses of the magic that the maleficar were infamous for, and it was obvious that there could very well be another reason for its condemnation. A mage that could use blood in substitution of lyrium would have an endless supply of power at their ends – well, a long term supply, at any rate. Put in that light, it was no wonder that the Chantry only had the Circle teach that blood magic came from pacts with demons – the more they vilified it, the less likely mages were to seek it out. And for those that did, well, they were simply the embodiment of the truth that magic was a curse cast down by the Maker.

Never mind that many of them turned to demon pacts out of fear and desperation because of the Chantry's persecution.

Her vision blurred; she reached up and swiped her hand across her eyes. "Do they know?" she asked, looking at Jowan. "Do they know that you learned blood magic from this book?"

Jowan sighed. "I told the First Enchanter, and Enchanter Wynne," he said. "I don't know if either of them believed me. I know that the First Enchanter told Wynne to keep an eye on me while we travel – I suspect they both think you were too hasty in conscripting me." He hesitated, and then gave Yllia a hesitant, shy look. "Yllia, are you… I mean, well…"

"Am I sure I did the right thing?" Yllia finished, and Jowan nodded, biting his lower lip and casting his gaze downwards again. She got up and went to him, placing both hands on his arms. "Of course I am. I wasn't thinking about you being a blood mage, Jowan, or that you'd been coerced into poisoning the Arl. I was only thinking about saving my best friend." Her eyes darkened with pain and sadness. "I've lost enough friends in too short a time," she added softly. "I wasn't about to let you be added to that list."

Jowan wrapped his arms around her then, pulling her close and letting rest her head against his chest. She closed her eyes tightly and did so, her fingers digging into his arms. It was a struggle to keep her tears back, and in the end she failed; with her face hidden against the fabric of his robes, she let them fall. From the desperate way he held her she was sure he was crying himself – relief, pain, sadness, all of it coming out between the two of them.

It struck her then – really, truly, without a single doubt – that there was nothing left of her old life anymore. It wasn't just the Joining and the Blight that separated her from it. The Circle Tower was all but gone now; it would be years before they were able to recover from what the maleficar and the demons had done to the place, and although Greagoir had agreed to not initiate a Right of Annulment there was no guarantee that the mages weren't still in danger from higher authorities than the Knight-Commander. At the very least, all she could hope for was that they'd be left alone until the Blight was dealt with. Irving and Greagoir had both promised them aid with what they could, but neither Yllia nor Alistair knew how much they'd be able to count on that support.

She'd left Kinloch Hold with Duncan, never intending to look back or even return. She knew now, though, that deep down inside a part of her – the part that feared freedom just as much as the rest of her yearned for it – had held onto the knowledge that if things went wrong, she would have a place to return to. Not even finding out what the Joining and becoming a Grey Warden meant had managed to get her to let go of that now.

Since the first day she'd been brought to Kinloch Hold there had only been two people in her life that she could have truly called friends. She'd already failed one of them; she would not, could not fail Jowan too. She would do whatever she had to do in order to hold onto him. The earlier question of whether or not she was prepared to make him go through the Joining echoed through her mind, but she pushed it aside. She'd deal with that if and when it became an issue as well.

The sound of barking from the direction of the camp broke the silence of the forest then, and Yllia let out a laugh, releasing Jowan and stepped back while giving her eyes one last swipe. "That's Rhys," she said, already familiar enough with her mabari's bark to recognize it just from sound. "And he doesn't sound too happy. We better get that wood and head back." She looked at him softly. "There's a lot we still have to talk about, I think – things I have to tell you, things I still want to know – but we can do that later. Right now, I'm just glad to have you here."

The smile he gave her then was genuine and warm. "I'm glad to be here," he said emphatically. "No matter what happens next."

The ominous implication behind his words wasn't lost on either of them – but for now, Yllia was determined not to dwell on it. Come morning they would set out once more for the Brecilian Forest, and the Dalish. Right now she just wanted to focus on this moment, to grasp the good points while she could – her best friend at her side, her argument with Alistair passed.

She would grasp the good moments now, because she was all too afraid that they would soon be gone.