Dresden Age
Book 1: Elves vs Vampires
Chapter 4: Of course I care
Synopses: The plot is moving. A war is coming. Our heroes need to know their new enemy. How to kill them. In doing so, they learn about each other.
Cheesy, I know. But it works.
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HEEEE-RAHHHH!
An infected shrieked. Its ravaged lungs huffing air though its hoarse throat. Its ragged limbs flailing. Its bloodshot eyes crossed and dripping red- An arrow stabbed deep between those bleeding jewels. Right above the nose. The infected's thankfully- mercifully, limp body falling lifeless to the ground.
Dead.
Its pack continued where their fallen failed.
'Something is not right.' Nathaniel thought, eyeing the infected as they sprinted at him. The acting commander of the gray simply stood his ground and knocked another arrow. The seasoned soldier's arsenal was strapped and ready. His feet firmly planted at the peak of a small hill. His legs, arms, and back in proper position- Nathaniel eyed his targets. When the pack entered the clearing- One after another, the gray warden emptied his quiver.
Nathaniel did not kill these monsters like the first infected. No. He crippled them. The eyes. The knees. Plenty of pricks for each prat. The infected were quite the bloody pack of pin pincushions. Luckily, the pack were so few that Nathaniel still had some arrow's left over. Not that it mattered. The gray warden's salvo had slowed the creatures. But no signs of pain. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at that.
Putting his grandfather's bow away, Nathaniel stepped down from his small hill toward the sightless creatures. Looking above. The clear, bright, golden sun had been blocked by the tree's of the forest surrounding him. Their thick branches and layers of leaves made quite the thatch. Protecting the pack of infected from its light- even if magic hadn't been involved.
As silent as a tomb, Nathaniel eyed the creatures. Studied them. The monsters were indeed infected elves. Their lithe bodies littered with bite marks and dried blood. What wasn't was from still open wounds. Some Nathaniel made himself. The creature's spiked red tattoo's spread around their bodies burned through the filth and rags that covered them as they shambled. No, crawled. The poor monsters had lost the use of their elbows, knees, and eyes. The determined monsters forced themselves toward where they had last seen their prey.
Their prey was to their left now, and they still kept crawling toward that hill he shot them on. That changed when a sudden gentle breeze gave away his location. Allowing the monsters to literally sniff out the gray warden. Nathaniel wasn't worried, their best speed was a trickle. Moving around the scourge again, Nathaniel allowed the monsters their false charge. Now behind them, the acting commander of the gray pulled out his short sword.
"Time to get to work." Nathaniel dived his blade into the heart of the nearest infected. It. Did. Nothing. Oh, it pinned the creature to the dirt- sure. That was it. Even the strongest of darkspawn would die from such a strike. The castle forged steel biting into the infected meat. This monster simply flailed and shrieked. Nathaniel stabbed it in the head this time- that worked. "No. Not right at all."
Nathaniel backed away from the trickling hoard. Putting his sword away, the gray warden pulled out another arrow. Igniting its flint arrow-head, Nathaniel stabbed that in the heart of the nearest infected- that worked. It shrieked in pain. Embers grew around the arrow in the diseased flesh. Then flames. Then an inferno. Heat and death engulfed the infected. Life soon faded. Leaving just its burning body behind.
Nathaniel nodded at that- Shrieks bellowed at him in return. Reminded of where he was and his mission. Shaking his head, the gray warden pulled out another weapon.
One step at a time, the gray warden struck the nearest approaching monster. Each with a different tool of war. Each in a different way. A sword slash here. A knife stab there. A club. A crush. Even a simple smush. The results were… varied. Though, the responses were the same. Nathaniel sighed as his steel-toed boot slammed into the face of the nearest downed infected. Bits of teeth and blood scattered to its side- and then back up to its belly. Shambling back to the very soldier that had maimed it. The stupid beast was gnawing the very armored foot that broke its jaw. Its shattered teeth scraping against the steel!
Thoroughly annoyed, Nathaniel grabbed a random knife on his person. One of many- side of the head. Just above the ear. Dead. Rolling his eyes, Nathaniel stepped back again-
ZZZSSSSHSHSHSHS
"What?" The gray warden asked. A sizzling sound burned near him. The smell of charred blood fallowed. Smoking flesh. All of it. It reminded Nathaniel of meat on an open grill- if the meat was rotten. And poisoned. And dipped in tar. Covering his mouth and nose, Nathaniel held his breath as he turned to the sizzling sound- his knife. "Wh-What am I looking at?"
The blood. The deep, dark, red rot of the infected was burning away on the shining white metal of this thin blade. Wiping it away- carefully, Nathaniel recognized the knife. A memento from his mercenary days. Some forgotten battle. A faceless foe. Each of the company picked their plunder. The eldest Howe child didn't squire for the money and he needed a blade fine enough to open letters.
The metal of the blade, it was not steel.
"Could it be?" The warden wondered, looking behind the weapon- a trail of gray smoke burned from the infected's corpse. The same head wound. Nathaniel shook his own head, confused. "Wha, how-"
GRAHHHH…
Another infected had crawled its way to him- completely unnoticed. Nathaniel kicked himself- or would have, if the beast wasn't trying to bite through the steel plate covering his calf.
"Some acting commander I am. Just let one of these creature's sneak up on me." They gray warden said, getting an idea. Kneeling down, he pressed the flat side of the blade against the exposed skin of the beast- it burned on contact. The monster screamed. It screamed. Through the maiming. The loss of limbs. Arrows in its eyes. The monsters showed no signs of pain. But one simple touch of this knife- Nathaniel touched it again. It wasn't just the single beast- the whole pack was crying out. Cracking in agony. "That… That is something."
"Do you have one, warden?" A rich, impatient voice asked from the shadows. Above in the trees.
"I do." Nathaniel nodded, grabbing that same beast by the hair as proof. "You may proceed."
Without any more preamble, that same silver haired warrior leaped from the trees. His dark, spiked armor and matching black great sword- He was like a ghost of death and vengeance coming to reap the enemy. Which he did. Fenris the mercenary dived into the center of the pack. The mangled and blinded enemy were scattered by a shockwave of pure force. Before their bodies even landed, Fenris carved several of the monsters in twain with a single slash of his sword.
They fell to the ground, lifeless.
"W-Wow, easy. Easy spiky, sword, slashy guy." Keyleth, the mage and first of her clan announced. Sliding out from behind a tree, glowing green power gathered in her hands before vines and roots wrapped around what remained of the pack. Pinning them and burying them in the dirt. Only the smallest shrieks and craws for signs of life. "We want some of these not dead."
"I'll be sure to charge you for my 'alive' rates." The mercenary quipped, his tone as dry as the western approach as he cleaned his huge blade with an oil rag. "Have you found anything warden?"
"Possibly." Nathaniel answered, stabbing the thin blade into the chest of his chosen infected. The beast froze- then collapsed. All life gone. "Interesting."
"What did I just say about alive? W-Wait, is..." Keyleth stuttered, her eyes locked on the now dead infected's chest. "Is that thing smoking?"
Indeed, it was. The warden kept the blade in the chest of his enemy. It was reacting to the special metal inside its body. Grey smoke burned. Gathering in intensity. Soon the corpse began to writhe and royal. The very flesh of the beast was bubbling around the silver. Steaming. Burning. The gray warden used all his strength to keep the blade in. He had to know.
Fire.
The beast erupted. No. That wasn't the right word. Combusted. Ignited. Its entire body was lit aflame. This wasn't just the skin or the area around the silver blade. No. The poor infected elf's body acted as though made of pitch and kindling and a fire mage blasted it with an inferno hex.
Everyone was shocked. Keyleth all but jumped out of her boots. Fenris was at least surprised. As for Nathaniel? He was astounded, to be sure. But he had his mission. Nathaniel forced himself to stay where he was. His hands in the burning beast. Strangely enough, he felt no heat. It wasn't just the battle tested, forge hardened, and magically enhanced armor of his order that protected him. The fire. The flames. They refused to touch him. But he could see them.
As for the rest of the pack?
It did not take long for the fire to consume its victim. Completely. Only coals, ash, and scorched earth remained. Within a blink of an eye, Nathaniel was kneeling over nothing but charred bones.
"Uhhh, guys." A gruff, smoky voice asked from up in the trees. His tone confused. "What happened?"
"Dad! Stay up there." Keyleth shouted, her tone fearful and worried. "We're still figuring things out. It's not safe. I don't think."
Nathaniel stayed there, silent. Frozen. Not even breathing. Just staring down at the ash and his blade. Both the elves on the ground looked at each other. His dull blue met her bright green. Keyleth turned to move but was waved off by Fenris.
"Warden." The mercenary hollered, his voice clear and demanding. He got no response. Nathaniel did not move. Fenris took a deep breath, forcing a smile on his face. "If you expect me to carry the team, I am happy to charge extra."
The joke, if it was one, did nothing. Fenris shook his head, ready to make his way over. Then a pine cone fell on the warden's head. Nathaniel all but jumped out of his skin. Jolting to his side. Rolling over onto his back. Stabbing wildly before he realized where he was.
"Easy, Warden. Easy." Vilkas announced. Nathaniel rolled to his side, weapons in hand as he looked up. Directly above him was none other than the hunt-master of clan Lavellan, standing on a thick branch. The seasoned veteran was wearing full Dalish Hunter's garb. Standard for any fighter of his clan. With the added 'protection' of bandages wrapped around his eyes. A look of concern and understanding on his face. "I heard and smelled what happened. No one expects a monster to burst into flames like that. Not even dragons."
"N-No." Nathaniel agreed, catching his breath. Pushing his hair back, comforting himself. "No, I did not expect that."
"What did you do?" Keyleth asked, walking up to the gray warden. "During the battle, my entire clan threw everything we had at these monsters. Me and my keeper used fire magic. Best we did was singe some hairs."
"Wait, you did?" Vilkas asked his daughter. "I don't remember that."
"Well, balls of arcane energy. Think spheres of glowing raw force." Keyleth the mage 'explained' to her mundane father and her equally magic-less friends. "Sure, not 'fire' exactly. But it usually burns the target down to the bone."
Nathaniel said nothing, he wasn't ready. Instead, he sheathed his small knife as he forced himself to his feet. Its tiny echo traveled up the tree.
"That, that wasn't steel." Vilkas said, his ears twitching. "Gold? Odd choice. Draw's too much attention. Pretty soft and heavy material too. Doubt it. Bronze? Reliable but dulls easy. Copper? That would just snap right off. Was it a stone dagger? Kinda the same problems but worse. Must've been enchanted- dwarven make?"
"It is silver." Nathaniel answered, holding up his weapon as he marched over to the nearest captured infected. Everyone's eyes were on the thin blade. Not just the elf companions to the warden, but the infected ones as well. Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at that. "Fenris. I require your knowledge."
Silently, the mercenary slid next to the warden. Appearing out of nowhere like a blue wraith. Nathaniel ignored that. His mission was his focus.
'Stay on mission'. Nathaniel thought, pointing at the handful of infected at their feet. All their eyes on the weapon in his hand. The gray warden unsheathed the fine blade. He waved it from one side to the other. Their bloodshot eyes fallowed him. All in complete unison. No exceptions. "Have you seen anything like this."
"Tevinter." The escaped slave answered. No hesitation. His eyes locked and focused on the infected. No surprise. Only dull certainty. "These… creatures. They have been twisted by blood magic."
"We knew that already." Vilkas answered, carefully sitting down on the branch he had been hiding on above them. Padding through a pouch on his side. "Bit of an easy guess when a bunch of random elves turn rabid and start eating each other. The madness spreading with a bite. Even Darkspawn taint doesn't do that. As you know, warden."
"Y-Yeah. W-We guessed, but ah..." Keyleth stuttered, tip-toeing up to the two warriors. "You're sure?"
"No doubt in my mind." Fenris nodded, pointing at the infected. "In Seheron and Tevinter lands proper, whenever a magister needs quick and mindless battle fodder they use blood magic to enslave whoever is closest to them. Their own slaves. Soldiers. Random bystanders. Though, they try to enslave the enemy if they can. I have seen magisters sacrifice their own kin, just for more meat to throw at their problems."
"How can you tell?" Nathaniel asked, in all honestly.
"Look at their eyes." Fenris stated, pointing at the captured souls. Their collective empty, bloody, gaze hard on his silver. "They fallow your knife like the slave master's whip. The one thing that can truly make them feel pain. Their minds all but gone. Just enough left of them to know fear. Fear of only that weapon in your hands."
"Sounds like a golem's control rod." Vilkas said, pulling out a cloth wrapped bundle from a pouch. The hunt-master could feel the gaze of his party below looking at him. Vilkas unwrapped the bundle. It was a loaf of bread. "During the battle of Denerim. The one that ended the blight. Orzamar sent up its military to help the wardens fight the hoard of darkspawn. Their warriors. Aye. But also a legion of golems. Each had a handler. What you said doesn't sound much different from those rock monsters. Though, I heard there was one Golem that acted on its own. Even boasted of killing its master. Control rod and all."
"That's real creepy dad." Keyleth shook her head in disgust. "How long does it last? Does that 'twisting' go away on its own?"
"Depends on how much blood, lyrium, and effort was used." Fenris shrugged. "When magisters force battle fodder they rarely think farther than their own safety and spite. The few I've seen that survive past the initial battle... feral madness not unlike these poor creatures. Honestly, it is cruel what has happened to them."
"You almost sound like you care, mercenary." Vilkas said, biting into his bread. The loaf was aged and hard. The nibble did little more than break off bits. Crumbs escaped and fell on his lap. Vilkas nearly rolled his eyes- and nearly fell out of the tree from pain.
"Of course I care, 'hunt-master'." Fenris announced, growing contempt in his voice. "Every slave cares. If we do not die from the crack of whips on our backs, crushed to death in mines, or simply 'entertainment'- Sacrifice and slaughter." The former slave pointed at the infected below him. "Like these poor souls. It is the worst way to die. The blight is bad, yes. But it is faster than the blood frenzy."
A haunting silence overtook the group. The history of elves is long. Most of it forgotten. Few surviving chapters. One of them. The longest one- slavery. Harsh. Cruel. Utterly unwilling to die. The last kingdom of the elves, the Dales, was founded in defiance and hope. Freedom! The Dalish clans existed at all for those same promises. Anger, fear, and shared pain stabbed in the heart of every elf. The hunt-master more than his daughter. The added arrow of shame stabbed with it. He had been told all his life how his people escaped slavery. Now here he was, giving an escaped slave a hard time- and for what?
Vilkas had only seen a glimpse of this man before he last his sight- in that one moment there was no doubt this lone mercenary would be better than his clan's hunt-master ever could be... or hope to be.
"I-I..." Vilkas bit his bread. He couldn't say it. 'Old fool. Dezzy's the one blinded by pride. Not you. You mus-No! No. He's dangerous. A stranger. You've seen him fight. He's a predator. You don't show weakness to predators. You keep that away from baby-girl.'
"E-Every slave?" Keyleth asked. Pure, naked horror on her face. She looked from Fenris to the infected at her feet. "I-I've heard stories. B-But... by the gods."
"Keep it together apprentice Keyleth." Nathaniel stated, putting his hand on her shoulder in an act of comfort. It was the one he stabbed the infected with. A mark of ash remained. "We are in enemy territory. We cannot afford distractions. Stay on mission. Now, Fenris. Tell me more of this 'blood frenzy'."
"It is as I said." Fenris shrugged, pointing at the infected. Their eyes still on the silver knife. Oblivious to all but that. "A mage used blood to power a spell. Force people- elves in this case- to be mindless battle fodder. I have seen it used many times during my years as a slave in Tevinter. Occasionally to fight the horned giants in Seheron. Though, more often Magisters use it against other Magisters."
"I-I can feel the magic in these, things." Keyleth said, waving her arm over the root roped infected. A green glow enveloped her hand. A disgusted look flashed over her face "It's faint, but it's there. It-Its nauseating. The closer I get the dizzier I feel. Its cold. Greasy. Empty. I've never felt a kind of magic like this. I-Its so s-so empty it feels like hunger. What is this?"
"I do not know magic, mage." Fenris spat the last bit. Like it was the worst dirty word there was. For him, it just might be. Keyleth actually stepped back. The visible anger of this warrior was so intense. "What you said means nothing to me."
"Watch yourself, mercenary." Vilkas warned, holding his dagger's tip between his fingers. Just waiting to be thrown.
"Do not threaten me, 'hunt-master'." Fenris rolled his eyes. "It would end the same way even if you could see me coming."
"Keep talking." Vilkas stated, rolling his dagger in a circle. Casually. Playfully. He was ready. "Makes it easier."
"Dad..." Keyleth sighed, worried.
"Enough!" Nathaniel announced, with just the amount of violence and volume you'd expect from the commander of the gray. The two elf warriors stayed their stare- even when one side had no eyes. Then Nathaniel pulled out his dagger. Pointing it at the mercenary who could kill them all with a stroke. That got all their attention. "We all have more important things to worry about. Now, Fenris. Why do these creatures ignore steel and stone but scream for silver."
"That... I cannot tell you."
"Oh, so you don't know all the answers?" Vilkas snorted, taking another bite. More crumbs covered his armor. The entire group on the ground stared up at him, all at once. In unison. More than a little annoyed. Even his daughter.
"Hunt-master." Nathaniel announced, his tone the same as before- only now he was pointing his knife at the blind man. "You're here as the look-out. You rely on your hearing. Unless there's a threat, shut your mouth and do your job. Do you hear me?"
"I am your ally, Warden. Not your soldier." Vilkas shook his head, another bite. The crunch was louder than it needed to be. "I don't take orders from you."
"Dad, please." Keyleth pleaded, just as the gray warden and the mercenary grabbed their weapons. "The longer we're out here, the worse it's going to be. It's going to be dark before we know it. We have to go back to camp with something."
"More than a letter opener, anyway. I heard how small that was." Vilkas grumbled. He felt his daughter's gaze on him. Surprise and... disappointment burned off the girl like smoke. He sighed. "Alright, I'll let you know if something happens."
"Now then." Nathaniel sighed, relieved and annoyed. "You don't know, but do you have any guesses? Silver hurts this... blood frenzy. Why?"
"The magisters guard their secrets jealously. But they're happy with hints when they're gloating. They do it often." Fenris rolled his eyes. Though his hand was still on his weapon. "Those that try the blood frenzy spell are reckless. When it is used there is always danger. So practice is limited- at best. I've seen magisters try. Buying slaves only to sacrifice them. The magisters always die quickly after that."
"What?" Keyleth asked, confused. "Why?"
"It is for appearances only, but blood magic is illegal in the imperium. To maintain power and peace with the south, the illusion must be maintained." Fenris explained. "Whenever a Magister is caught practicing blood frenzy they fall from grace. Tried and punished quickly. Usually with death or slavery themselves."
"That's how it works?" Keyleth asked, scratching her head. As if digging for clarity. "The more I hear about Tevinter the less it makes sense."
"There is no faster way to gain power in this world than with blood magic. Blood frenzy is one of the strongest spells in that school." Fenris pointed out. "Violence, madness, and hunger in equal measure. If not for the demands of battle or self-defense there is but one reason for such cruelty and waste."
"Power grab." Nathaniel Howe whispered, his head low. Staring at the dirt. The stories of treachery, betrayal, and murder flashed though his mind. All with his father's face. A face he hadn't seen since he was a boy. "You've been talking a lot about magisters. Do you think there is one out here causing trouble?"
"Unlikely." Fenris shook his head. "The attacks are almost random. But not random enough to be a ploy. So many scattered groups of infected. So many separate groups attacked. Too many loose ends. The only sign of a mind behind any of this is that all infected are elves. Dalish at that."
"That's the only sign?" Nathaniel asked.
"That and the battle on the hill. We all saw it." Fenris answered, his tone certain. "The red markings, I don't know what those are but they are part of the Blood frenzy. This blood frenzy. The Vallaslin. It overpowered those markings. They are for control."
"The Vallaslin?" Keyleth asked. "They're a sign of our clan. Adulthood. A simple mark of culture. Not of control."
"You heard me back at camp, apprentice." Fenris eyed the mage girl. "There are many old legends of our ancestors. They are dead and forgotten for a reason. I would not be surprised if control and slavery was the Vallaslin's true purpose."
"N-No..." Keyleth shook her head, gripping her mage staff tight with one hand. Rubbing her face with the other. Her bare face. Vilkas couldn't help himself. He did the same. Though, he avoided the bandages. "I don't believe you."
"Believe what you want girl. We all saw what happened." Fenris waved a hand at the mage. Utterly dismissing her. "The magisters will be drooling at the mouth when they learn of this."
"What do you mean?" Nathaniel asked, intrigued and weary. "Elaborate."
"Since before their expansion, Tevinter has been obsessed with control." Fenris shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "But try as they might through the centuries, the magisters have always been limited to one spell at a time. The spell itself could not be changed or influenced. When they lost control, the magisters are always forced to destroy their failed puppets. But with this-" Fenris pointed at the infected, their faces. Then at the hunt-master's above them- even his own Vallaslin. The ones made of lyrium. "Nearly 2,000 years of stagnation and failure is undone. A new age of cruelty, slaughter, and 'experimenting' is around the corner. Just waiting to ravage this world."
Everyone stared at the escaped slave at that. His words. Even the one who could not see. Everyone knew what happened the last time a 'new age' from Tevinter came to the world. A cold chill crawled up everyone's spine.
"We must destroy these monsters and end this new threat before that happens." Fenris announced, his tone slow, steady, and somber.
"You still haven't answered my question." Nathaniel said, holding up his letter opener to the mercenary. "Why silver?"
"Warden." Fenris grumbled, shame and anger in his voice. "You are talking to a battle slave. Someone who was taught only to serve and slay. Nothing more. I can tell you only what I have seen and expect to see."
"Damn." Nathaniel shook his head. "So, we have no answers? There are just as many similarities as differences to the darkspawn. Why?"
"I know!" Keyleth cheered, pointing a finger in the air. An eager smile on her face- then she remembered where they were and what they were talking about. "Not the darkspawn thing, but the silver bit. Any mage knows what happens when we try to change something with magic. Side effects. You try to turn pig iron into gold, it melts in the sun. A dwarf enchants a piece of stone to shoot lightning; its as brittle as glass. The sylvan me and the keeper summoned during the battle. Its wood was dryer than if it was left in the desert sun for a year. Honestly, if those monsters could think and tried fire... The battle would've been over before you showed up."
Keyleth pointed at Fenris.
"So, the silver- and fire, don't forget. The power it has for them." Nathaniel said, walking toward the mage. Handing her his letter opener. "It's a mutation. A side effect from the spell that twisted these poor things?"
"Makes as much sense as anything else, doesn't it?" Keyleth shrugged, inspecting the thin blade. "Can I keep this? I'd like to show this to Keeper Destinna. We, We don't have a lot of silver at camp. Even between three clans. We're... a practical people. Silver is shiny and- that's it."
"It's yours. There'll be more coming in. Now that we have something we'll gather as much as we can." Nathaniel said, looking at the sky. The position of the sun. They were past mid-day. They had to hurry. The commander of the gray turned to the yapping hunt-master. Still nibbling on his bread. "Vilcone. We're leaving. Come down."
"Its Vil-Kus, Naty-boy." The hunt-master snorted, wrapping his bundle back up as he got to his feet. The amused veteran warrior shook his head as he wiped off the crumbs from his person. "But that's not a bad nickname. I'll make sure to tell Dezzy when-"
HEEEE-RAHHHH!
The infected. The small handful that remained. Bound and buried in the earth below them shrieked. Dots and bits of their exposed skin started smoking. Circles of ash and soot expanded and grew. Both away but also inside the body. Looking down, the three on the ground could see tiny pieces of burnt bread had fallen on them. Pure agony enveloped the infected as smoke started to consume the rest.
"Guys, what's happening- gah!" Vilkas asked, leaning forward. Tilting his head down. Trying to pick up any details as to what was going on. But, his hands were greasy from the bread. It slipped from his hand. The hunt-master tried catching it as it fell but could only grab its wrapping. The old, hard, fried bread soon rolled free. Falling faster and faster. Hitting branch after branch on the way down. Cracking and breaking apart until there were little more than crumbs left. "No. I waited a whole week to eat that thing. Baby-girl, can you pick up the biggest chunks or is-"
"By the gods!" Keyleth shrieked.
Fire.
The beasts- all of the beasts. Erupted. Ignited. Their entire body engulfed in inferno. The flames themselves- silver white. It took little time. The poor creatures didn't even have time to cry out in pain this time. They simply burned. Soon enough only ash, roots, and bones were left. Oh, and crumbs of fried wheat.
"What was in that bread!"
