Dragon Age: Revengeance
ACT I
Chapter 8
Aeonar lay within a secluded region of Highever. Thus Inquisitor Trevelyan and his expedition took a ship to Ferelden's northern coastlands, and from there journeyed on horseback the rest of the way. During the trip Lord Seeker Benedict explained what he knew; namely that after the outbreak of the Mage-Templar war, he had led a group of Seekers to the remote fortress to learn why all contact with it had ceased. What they discovered was baffling. Aeonar was completely deserted. The Templar guards and their prisoners had completely vanished without a trace. The fortress was still stocked with supplies, so it seemed unlikely they had simply left. Yet there were no signs of violence to suggest the place had been attacked.
Benedict and his team had gathered all of the records they could find in the hopes of learning what had occurred, thinking perhaps there might be some hint in writing during the days leading up to whatever incident had taken place. Despite an exhaustive investigation, they had ultimately been forced to leave without any conclusive evidence. It was a mystery, one that would have to be shelved until a calmer time.
That time was now. Trevelyan didn't like the sound of any of this one bit, and was determined to get to the bottom of it. To that end he had ordered an expedition, led by himself and the Lord Seeker, to travel to Aeonar and put the mystery to rest once and for all. Aeonar was notorious for being a place where the denizens of the Fade could easily cross over into the mortal world. If some powerful demon was responsible, it had to be found and dealt with.
"There it is," said Benedict, pointing down the beaten path. Nestled deep within a dense forest lay the formidable bulk of The Aeonar. A daunting fortress, dominated by the Tower of Hessarian. The mere sight of it provoked a palpable sense of foreboding and dread. Trevelyan observed that now they were close to it, all ambient sounds had ceased. No birds sang, no insects buzzed, no wolves howled. The forest was eerily silent.
"Onwards," Trevelyan ordered, tightening his grip on the reins with his one remaining hand. However ominous Aeonar appeared, he would not be deterred. Something dreadful and mysterious had taken place here. They weren't leaving until the truth had been brought to light.
Hawke squinted at the approaching force through the scope mounted on Bianca. She counted half a dozen Seekers and around two dozen Inquisition soldiers and scouts. All on horseback. At the front of the troupe was the fabled Herald of Andraste himself, Maxwell Trevelyan, wearing heavy ornate armour. His head was covered with a red hood and golden circlet, just like Meredith. As if that weren't bad enough, he even had Meredith's sword sheathed across his back, despite only having one arm now.
"I thought that damn sword was smashed into a thousand pieces," Hawke murmured. Isabela shifted beside her.
"Someone must have stuck the bits back together. That can't have been easy."
Their ambush was set, their targets heading for a plethora of mines, tripwires, and bombs, whilst Hawke and Isabela had loaded their crossbows with explosive bolts. Coupled with their fortified position and the element of surprise, Hawke was confident of victory despite how heavily outnumbered they were.
"Tsk, tsk," said an unfamiliar voice. "This won't do at all."
Hawke tried to roll to the side and bring her crossbow to bare on the speaker, but found she couldn't move an inch. She was completely paralysed. The panicked expression on Isabela's face suggested she was as well.
"Why don't you both take your fingers off those triggers," said the unseen speaker. "Then the three of us will sit here quietly and enjoy the show."
To Hawke's horror her finger moved away from Bianca's trigger, despite her best efforts to resist. It was blood magic. There was a damned blood mage standing behind them. With no other choice open to them, Hawke and Isabela watched events unfold upon the dirt path below. The soldiers and scouts of the Inquisition convulsed abruptly, and then went berserk, attacking the Seekers without hesitation. Sorely outnumbered, they put up a brave fight but quickly succumbed. Even Inquisitor Trevelyan himself was not immune. Catching Lord Seeker Benedict completely by surprise, Trevelyan drew the greatsword Certainty with one hand and beheaded Benedict with a single sweep of the blade. With the Seekers dispatched, the Inquisition troops then took their own lives. It was only when the carnage had ended that Hawke spotted Venatori blood mages lurking in the trees either side of the path.
The unseen mage behind them laughed at the display. "How Corypheus lost to these idiots, I will never know. It's like I always say, if you want something done right, use blood magic. Works nine times out of ten. Up you get, you two!"
Hawke and Isabela got up and finally turned to inspect their captor. Sure enough he was a Venatori mage, obviously the leader, wearing an immaculate white leather longcoat. His head was uncovered, revealing heavily styled blond hair, and a face that was beyond smug. Hawke felt an irresistible urge to punch it. Alas, under the control of blood magic she could scarcely twitch.
"Magister Draven, at your service, ladies," he announced, giving them a mock bow. He smirked when he saw Hawke straining against his magical influence. "Now I know what you're thinking; if you exert enough raw willpower, you might just be able to overcome my powers and drive a knife between my ribs. Sorry to disappoint, but I am not some back alley mage turning to blood magic in desperation. I happen to be the foremost expert on blood magic in all of Thedas! I've even published papers on the subject. Not that my work was appreciated by my hypocritical peers..." He sighed and then shrugged. "Not to worry, I'll soon have them grovelling at my feet. Now then, would you kindly drop your crossbows and follow me to the Tower of Hessarian. You too, 'Herald'!" He waved to the sole survivor of the expedition. "Come along, now! Don't dally!"
Inquisitor Trevelyan was as powerless to resist Draven's blood magic as they were. Hawke, Isabela, and Trevelyan had no choice but to trail behind the pompous Venatori as he led them to a secret chamber hidden within the Tower of Hessarian.
"Many of my fellow Venatori worshipped Corypheus," Draven said as he operated some manner of mechanism. "He told them he was going to breach the Veil once again, enter the Black City, and become a god. You know, the exact same thing he did thousands of years ago? Which ended in dismal failure? Incidentally, did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?"
The secret chamber proved to be an elevator leading down. Draven continued to chat with his captive audience as they travelled deep into the earth.
"Needless to say, I had a feeling he was going to fail. Instead of following him into defeat, I elected to take advantage of the chaos he was causing and finish what my predecessors started here. Tell me, do any of you know what exactly it was that the Imperium was studying here and at Ostagar? No?" He laughed and spread his arms wide. "Aeonar and Ostagar mark the locations – above ground – of the prisons of two of the Tevinter Old Gods. Far below Ostagar slumbered Urthemiel. We all know what happened there. And deep below Aeonar sleeps Razikale! A true god, unlike that pathetic creature Corypheus."
Oh crap, thought Hawke. She did not like where this was going one bit.
Draven lowered his arms and began to pace around them. "The problem of course, was that a certain elven trickster named Fen'Harel had imprisoned the Old Gods and placed them into an enchanted sleep. What these magical research towers were studying was a means to break this enchantment and awaken the Old Gods, so that we might make Tevinter great again!"
They could all hear it now; a beautiful, terrible song, growing ever louder as they continued their descent. They were heading right for the prison of Razikale, and were close enough now to hear the song that drew the darkspawn like moths to a flame.
"We were so close!" said Draven. "Only one thing was missing." He pointed sharply at Trevelyan. "Herald of Andraste?" He snorted at that. "Come now, we all know the truth. It wasn't Andraste that gave you the mark, Inquisitor, it was Fen'Harel. His orb, his mark, his magic. The mark may be gone, along with your arm, but residual traces of Fen'Harel's magic lingers on in your blood." He snapped his fingers. "Champion? You came here to kill this man. Allow me grant your wish. Would you kindly take your dagger and plunge it into the Inquisitor's neck."
Powerless to resist, Hawke did as commanded. She drew one of her daggers, advanced upon Trevelyan, and then stabbed him directly in the throat. Blood sprayed from the wound, causing the Inquisitor to slump to his knees. Draven laughed and laughed.
"The blood of the sacrifice that seeps into the stone here shall be the only truth we reveal in the end! Praise be to Razikale! May our raised voices reach her and bring her back to us at last!"