Chapter 15: Beyond the Beyond
"Varric was right," Krem said, standing on a precipice, overlooking the half-dozen or so Eluvians that they could see. "This shit is weird."
Theo had been in the Crossroads, the world between Eluvians, twice before. Both times he'd been with the witch Morrigan, who knew where she was going, and guided him. Now he stood, looking between the bloody footprints heading up to another mirror, and the mirror behind them, through which he could still see glimpses of the storage room at the Winter Palace. "Story of my life, Krem," he said at last, trying to smile. He drew an arrow from his quiver and loosely nocked it. "Let's go."
They followed the bloody prints up a rocky path to another Eluvian. Theo didn't hesitate: he stepped right through, and emerged in a dark stone hallway. He climbed a set of stairs, bow at the ready, and then came out on a stone tower that overlooked mountains and meadows of wildflowers. A blue lake glittered in the distance and the air was warm, drowsy, and fragrant. And it was definitely not Orlais.
The ruins were elven; he recognized the architecture from the Temple of Mythal. But this didn't look anything like the densely overgrown Arbor Wilds. Wherever they were now was beyond anywhere Theo had ever been before.
"Check this out, Chief," Krem said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Scorch marks everywhere. And… this is too realistic to be sculpture. Don't know many artists who'd sculpt an ugly Qunari arse, especially in some lost elven ruin." But he wasn't smiling as he looked up at the stone Qunari, its mouth open in a battle cry-or a final scream.
"The mage that made this fire was strong," Dorian said quietly, looking around. "I can still feel their magic lingering."
The Iron Bull carefully examined each statue with his single eye. "They're not Tal-Vashoth. Their armor is Antaam-issue. And no sculptor would get that level of detail, even if he took the time to carve our ugly asses," he added with a half-grin in Krem's direction. "And this blood is still fresh."
Theo should have known better than to hope that this trek would be better than sitting in the Exalted Council. He headed up a wide stone stairwell, craning his neck to see the top of the tower. Where in Thedas could such intact and serene elven ruins still exist? Were they even farther south than the Arbor Wilds?
The mark on his hand flared suddenly, crackling and hissing. He gritted his teeth together and clenched his hand, willing the pain away. But as he stepped onto the walkway, his hand nearly exploded with light and energy and pain. He fell to one knee and dropped his bow, and when he looked up after a moment he was not alone. The translucent forms of elven spirits stood before him, bows trained on him. The largest had a maul resting on its shoulder. The empty eyes stared at him. "I'm no threat," he said, looking up at them.
A barrage of arrows loosed from the ghostly bows. Behind him, Dorian and Bull cried out. At this range Theo should have felt every single fatal shot, but when he opened his eyes he viewed the world through a green haze. A thin thread of magic flowed from his marked hand to the wall of the dome, and the ghost arrows were dissolving on the stones. The mark had saved him yet again.
Or it had saved itself. He was little more than a host.
Bull and Krem leapt up the last few stairs and flew past Theo, Bull swinging his own maul and Krem lunging with sword and shield. Dorian passed through the protective field easily and stood beside Theo, casting a static cage spell over the ghostly guards. Lightning arced down, shocking them and allowing Bull and Krem openings to get fatal hits in.
The guards faded into wisps that blew away on the gentle breeze. "At least that was a clean fight," Krem remarked, examining his sword.
"You okay, Boss?" Bull asked, reaching out to help Theo to his feet.
Theo looked at Bull, Krem, and Dorian: three of the shrewdest people he knew, who could cut through bullshit with the sharpness of their glares alone. "No. I don't think I am," he admitted, staring down at his hand. "Whatever this place is… it's affecting my mark in a way that it's never been affected before. Without blood magic to help it, that is," he said. He shook his hand out and started walking around the tower. The tower wasn't the only edifice here: there was a fortress of some sort in the distance, and as they looked around, they found more active Eluvians.
"Smart to use these for moving around a city quickly," Bull said, arms crossed over his chest. Even if he was suspicious of magic he could appreciate its practical uses. "Could bring us to that fortress down there."
"Or get us lost in the middle of nowhere," Krem said without a trace of irony in his voice.
"Well, if I have to get lost in ancient elven ruins, I can't think of better company," Dorian said, trying to keep his tone light and musical. He caught Theo's hand in his own and squeezed. A warm, calming feeling flowed up his arm and faint blue light glowed at the edge of his vision. Dorian was a talented and powerful mage, but was also the first to admit that he was no healer. That he would try to send a surge of what healing magic he could muster into Theo was enough to make him want to cry with gratitude.
They searched the tower but found no more ghostly resistance. It felt like time had stopped here, but when it had stopped was hard to say. Theo paused before a tile mosaic of a wolf. The tiles were in various shades of green and gold and brown, and some were even the same acid green of his glowing mark. He reached up to touch one such tile and a barrage of visions rushed into his head. For an eternal moment he was surrounded by elves: thin, scared, tired, worn. One wore a cloak made of a wolf's pelt and guided them. He spoke words of reassurance and peace. He called the valley his sanctuary.
Just as quickly the vision was gone. Theo rested his forehead against the cool tile. "This valley was a sanctuary for escaped slaves, run by Fen'Harel," he told the others. "And the elven gods… weren't gods at all."
He didn't know how he'd known that, and was frustrated by the feeling of being two people at once: simultaneously Theo, and then whatever or whomever the mark was inside of him. They found more inscriptions, and at each one Theo felt a warm twinge in his hand and had the sense of walking between the present and the past. "The Evanuris weren't immortal," he murmured, tracing over another mosaic. "They just wanted power. They enslaved other elves."
"This is not what we know to be true," Dorian said, his fingertips lightly touching the tiles. They didn't seem to ripple or come to life the way they did when Theo did the same thing. "Yet another one of your gifts," he said with a half grin. "Uncovering the unsavory truths history has tried to sweep under the carpet."
"Like the Magisterium does?" Krem asked, leaning against a wall.
"Exactly," Dorian said, and Bull snorted. "History is far from a glorious thing, unless you're a Qunari, apparently."
Bull just shrugged. "We all have our skeletons," he said at last. "Some bloodier than others."
They found another Eluvian, this one with an active, swirling surface. Theo held his breath and held up his hand. The surface parted like water, showing a cracked stone road and high walls beyond. "I think we've found our fortress." He stepped through.
Unlike the Eluvians he'd used before, this one did not take them to the Crossroads, but directly to another destination. If they weren't careful, what Krem had posited could come true. It would be too easy to get lost.
This one took them out to the fortress they'd viewed from the lookout tower. The noise of battle drew his gaze, and he stared, mouth agape as a group of fully armed Qunari fought with more of the ancient elven guards. "If we ever get back, and if we have to come here again, Varric is coming with us," Theo said at last. "This shit is beyond weird."
"You got this, Chief?" Krem asked Bull. "My Qunlat's lousy."
"They probably already know I'm Tal-Vashoth, but why not," Bull said with a shrug. He waited until the ghosts evaporated and then called out a Qunlat greeting. A half dozen Qunari turned to face them. They called out something else in Qunlat and adjusted their grips on their weapons.
Krem drew his sword. "My Qunlat isn't that lousy," he muttered. "This is going to be a messier fight than the last one."
The six warriors charged. Theo nocked and fired arrows as fast as he could. Dorian let loose a lightning storm overhead as Bull charged in, swinging his maul. Krem followed, then flanked to the right and slammed into a Qunari with his shield. They were all outnumbered, but not out-powered. That came as they advanced into the fortress and more warriors came after them. Bull swung his maul, taking out two Qunari, but two more were there. Theo tried to take out the spear throwers, until they turned their attention on him and he had to duck behind a pillar. He heard Dorian cry out; heard Krem yell at him to take cover. Heard Bull swearing in common and in Qunlat. Heard his hand crackling once more.
Theo rolled out from hiding and channeled all of his fear and anger and uncertainty into the mark. He held his hand aloft and the air split open, tendrils of green light hungrily licking at their enemies. He stared into the swirling light. He let himself feel the power leaving him, and then dropped his arm and fell back, starting at the frescoed ceiling.
He hated using the mark that way. But he felt better: less buzzing, less pent up energy. He sat up to see Bull, Krem, and Dorian staring at him. A gash ran across Bull's chest; Krem's breastplate had a few new dings to it, and Dorian leaned on his staff. "I take it your Qunlat's pretty lousy too?" he asked Bull.
The Bull didn't smile. "I know we never made the deal with the Antaam when we had the chance, and I know I'm Tal-Vashoth. They're right to want to kill me. But other Inquisition representatives? Especially the Inquisitor himself? Could be a rogue group." But for the first time since Theo had met him, Bull sounded uncertain when speaking about the Qunari.
Theo stood up. "It seems quiet now. Let's see what else we can find," he suggested.
"And then?" Krem asked.
"We get back to Halamshiral and hope that our dead foot soldier was an isolated incident." But he knew it was foolish to wish for. Nothing he did could ever be simple.
They explored the sanctuary area. The frescoes painted on the walls were still intact and still relatively bright, and enhanced with decorative mosaic tiles. Theo's hand pulsed gently and he saw the pictures not as just elves with their vallaslin, or blood writing marks. He saw slaves, marked as property of certain Evanuris, and the wolf-pelt-cloaked trickster Fen'Harel removing the markings. The marks of pride worn by so many Dalish, truly marks of servitude and ownership? Had the Creators been little better than the Tevinter Magisters? He gazed up at the flat stare of the marble wolf statue in the center of the room. "Why are we hear, Fen'Harel?" he murmured, but the statue merely stared ahead as it had for centuries, perhaps millennia.
Bull found a stairwell leading down into a dank barracks that, unlike the sanctuary above, had been used for its intended purpose recently. Pieces of Qunari armor littered the floors. A glowing Eluvian, through which they could see glimpses of the Crossroads beyond, stood against one wall. Papers with hasty scrawl were strewn across a desk. Bull skimmed over the Qunlat writing, though some was in the common tongue.
"Bad?" Dorian asked as Theo paced around the barracks.
"Shitty," Bull said. He looked up at Theo as he tucked the letters into his leather side pouch. "We need to get back to Halamshiral. Now. Before the Qunari do."
Theo stopped his pacing and stared at his hand. He stood, rooted to the spot, just staring and unable to think or comprehend what Bull had said. He stood there until Dorian folded him into a tight hug and held him, and then they stood there until Bull and Krem gently nudged them both toward the Eluvian.