"So, the Hero of Ferelden made deals with demons. And encouraged such recklessness in the mages of Kirkwall. To what end?" Cassandra pressed. "You said yourself she understood the necessity of templars. Why the change of heart?"
"I said no such thing, Seeker. Yes, the Hero conversed with spirits and demons. Played their games. But not when it counted. She never gave into one of them."
"It matters not," the Seeker said, insistently. "That she was even willing to speak with them explains why she did not prevent that mage's actions."
Varric braced an elbow on the arm of his chair. "You're getting ahead of yourself there, Seeker. The Hero hasn't even stepped foot outside her gilded cage yet."
17 Haring, 9:30 Dragon
Muttering tones filtered through the haze of sleep. "Did you hear what happened last night?"
Groggy, Solona opened her eyes to the high cathedral ceiling of the apprentice quarters. She laid in bed a moment. Her Harrowing. She could have sworn . . . had it all been a dream? Disappointment swelled in her chest.
"Are you all right? Say something, please . . ."
It took embarrassingly long to realize those words were directed at her.
Solona rolled her head to the side. The rest of her body felt too heavy to move. Jowan, her best friend, stood there, concern written in every line of his face.
"Jowan?"
Her voice was hoarse, but he visibly relaxed at the sound. "I'm glad you're all right. They carried you in this morning. I didn't even realize you had been gone all night. I've heard about apprentices that never come back from Harrowings."
Solona flinched at the unpleasant reminder of Mouse. Jowan's concern resurfaced, only easing when she moved to sit up.
"Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?"
The honey haired mage didn't begrudge Jowan his curiosity, but she knew better than to reveal the truth of the Harrowing. Angered though she was at Mouse's deception, Solona was certain a worse fate awaited those that unveiled the graduation test's secrets.
"It was a test of ability—that's all."
If she repeated it enough, she might even come to believe it herself.
Jowan shook his head, disbelieving. "There must be something more, or they'd tell the apprentices what's involved. I know I'm not supposed to know . . . but we're friends. Just a little hint, and I'll stop asking, I promise!"
Her gaze dropped to her lap. Jowan's cajoling wouldn't normally affect her, but Mouse's betrayal was too fresh. It would be too easy to tell him he won their bet, but even letting him know that much could be disastrous. Knowing that she could prevent his death if she just told him was torture. But Solona feared the consequences she would incur.
"Patience. You'll go through it soon enough." Empty platitudes were all Solona could offer. Jowan turned away from her, clearly disappointed that she was choosing the establishment over him.
"And now you get to move into the nice mages' quarters upstairs. I'm stuck here and I don't know when they'll call me for myHarrowing."
"They'll summon you to the test when you are ready."
Solona was an unusual case, and the whole tower knew it. She was Harrowed so early out of necessity. At nineteen, her magical coils were on par with those of the senior enchanters. Waiting a few more years, as was standard, left her open to the influence of demons too long. Despite how Harrowed mages were considered less at risk, the templars preferred to have larger numbers of the apprentices. With them, they could act with impunity. No one questioned when a shaky-legged apprentice was escorted back to their quarters after a smite. Greagoir and Irving fought often over the lack of punishment for templars that smited a Harrowed mage without due cause.
Temptation. It was the bottom line. Demons sensed magical power across the Veil, drawn to those that housed it like moths to flame.
Knowing how mages were brought to their Harrowings, Solona couldn't wait for Jowan's turn. His tendency for dramatics would make his reaction amusing.
"I've been here longer than you have . . . Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me."
Only the foresight that it would result in more whining had Solona holding her tongue. Jowan had arrived at the tower five months before her at the age of ten. Granted, he was three years older than her, but given that he wasn't the most studious of mages, it was unsurprising he had yet to be summoned for his test. It wasn't like they marked the day each white-faced and wide-eyed child was escorted to the Circle and dragged them from their bed on the ten year anniversary of their arrival. But she knew any advice to buckle down would go in one ear and out the other.
"Doesn't everyone go through a Harrowing?"
"The Tranquil never go through a Harrowing." Solona winced at the deserved sarcastic barb. "You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility . . . or you die. That's what happens."
Solona reached out, then retreated. The last thing she would want in his position was to be coddled. "They're not going to kill you, Jowan."
"They might not. But the Rite of Tranquility is just as bad. Maybe worse. You've seen the Tranquil around the tower. Like Owain, he runs the stockroom. He's so cold. No, not even cold. There's just . . . nothing in him. It's like he's dead, but still walking. His voice, his eyes are lifeless . . ."
Jowan trailed off. Solona shuddered, infinitely glad to have passed her Harrowing and thus been spared the fate of a Tranquil. Death was still an option, she supposed, but she wasn't foolish enough to dabble in blood magic.
"I think you're reading too much into it. It'll be your turn soon, you'll see."
He was silent for a moment. A shake of the head as if to remove unwanted thoughts followed. "Anyways, I shouldn't waste your time with this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."
"What for?" Solona prayed once more that the details of her Harrowing were known only to her. It would be cruel for them to bring her back to her bed only to kill her because she hadn't killed every being she had encountered on sight.
"He didn't tell me. About the Harrowing, I'd guess, but you never know with Irving," he ventured. "You better not keep him waiting. We can speak later."
Solona wasn't aware the First Enchanter was waiting on her, she thought uncharitably at his retreating back. Though he'd hardly be able to tell she had spent the last ten minutes discussing the test she wasn't allowed to disclose.
She dug through the trunk at the end of her bed in search of clean robes. They would be identical to the set she wore last night—why was it that mage robes lack imagination?—but they would at the very least be clean and unrumpled.
"Did you hear anything? Is she all right? Is she awake?"
"Why do you care? Are you best friends now?"
Solona paused in her efforts. She didn't recognize either voice, but they could only be talking about her.
"I'm just curious," the first woman defended. "That templar, Cullen, said it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he'd ever seen."
Solona flushed at the indirect praise. Was her performance truly that impressive?
"He says she's very talented and very brave."
"Well, he would, wouldn't he?" Was that jealousy?
"I just know I'll be terrified when my turn comes. Like Wendall was. He'd throw up every day for the next week just thinking about it."
Solona resumed her search for clean robes now that their gossip had turned away from her. Once dressed, she quickly made her way to Irving's office. Apparently, everyone and their mother was talking about her Harrowing. She was stopped several times and offered congratulations, from mages and templars alike. The only person not giving her special treatment was Senior Enchanter Sweeney, but only because he apparently couldn't keep all the apprentices' names straight.
A wide berth was given to the apprentice trying to cast fire magic in the middle of the library. His mentor certainly inspired no little amount of confidence. and Solona didn't sympathize for the lackluster results. She certainly wouldn't want the reputation of being the mage that set a section of the library on fire. She couldn't help but overhear Niall and Senior Enchanter Torrin discussing the various politicalgroups of mages, if they could even be called that. More like like-minded people giving themselves a fancy name that expressed their desires for their futures.
"Hello. Congratulations on your Harrowing last night. Good work."
Solona ducked her head in acknowledgement. "Could you tell me more about the Fraternities?"
She wanted to know more. The templars were very careful to restrict their contact with the world outside the Circle. Even Harrowed mages weren't permitted to leave the tower unless on official business.
"Oh, the Fraternities," he responded, drained. Solona gathered she wasn't the first person to ask him this question. "Groups of mages with a common agenda, banding together to make their voices heard. They're found in all the Circles throughout Thedas.
"The most influential are the Aequitarians. They're moderates and believe in a code of conduct that all mages should adhere to. Then there are the Chantry apologists, the Loyalists. The Chantry says something and they follow it to the letter. The Lucrosians just want to make money, and the Isolationists would like us all to be hermits and live on an island."
Which was any different from how they lived now, how? There would always be Chantry oversight. Someone needed to slay those that became abominations.
"Then, of course, there are the Libertarians. They want more power for the Circle, more autonomy," Torrin summarized.
"I think we should all be Isolationists," interjected Niall. "Move to some remote mountain town, far away from the mundanes who hate us. I'd go live alone in the Wilds if I could. But you know they'd just brand me an apostate and hunt me down. There is no leaving the Circle. It's till death do us part. Romantic, isn't it?"
The female mage rolled her eyes. Isolation served no purpose. Mages would always be feared if they refused to step forward and prove that their magic could serve man, not just harm him. Honestly, the chances of meeting one blood mage in your life was slim. Retreating from peoples' fears would only prove them right in having them. She only hoped that Niall wasn't spreading the label mundane amongst the other apprentices. Looking upon them as lesser for not having magic was not the way to abate their fears of magic.
"It's best not to get involved in Circle politics. More trouble than it's worth, really."
"Which do you belong to?" she asked.
"Ha! If I had to I'd say I was an Aequitarian. But I ducked out of the fray a long time ago. Most of the senior enchanters are Aequitarians: Irving, Wynne, Sweeney. Uldred's a Libertarian, and a loud one at that." He sighed heavily. "Mages have enough opposition from the outside without tearing our Circles apart with in-fighting. But what can you do?"
"Giving up doesn't help anyone." Solona believed, wholeheartedly, that the tensions between mages and templars didn't have to be. With a little effort and understanding, it was possible to call them friends. Like her and Cullen.
"An idealist, I see. Well, if you're going to change the world, you should get started immediately. Lots of world to cover."
Solona spun on her heel, reading the clear dismissal. She didn't have to change the world. Just their opinions.
In her haste to get away, she accidently turned into a guest room.
"Oh, excuse me! I didn't hear you come in. I'm sorry. I'm terribly busy right now. I have to prepare the room before the Grey Warden is done at his meeting with Irving."
Solona's heart skipped a beat. "There's a Grey Warden here?" Was this why he had summoned her? To offer her the opportunity to join the Grey Wardens?
"Yes. Duncan, his name is. He must be here to talk to Irving about something important," the other mage elaborated. "You know, I almost became a Grey Warden once."
"Really?" was her skeptical response. She couldn't imagine this wizened man as a legendary Grey Warden.
"There were several of us chosen, though the Grey Wardens only wanted one recruit—they only ever have one mage, you see . . . I think they thought I was the best candidate, but I was young and foolish and I said I wasn't interested. They picked someone else instead, and that was that. I've regretted it ever since."
Solona wasn't going to turn down Duncan if he was here for her.
"Ah, well, I should get back to my work."
Solona was determined to reach Irving's office quickly, now that she had a sense of what awaited her, but she spotted Cullen posted outside one of the senior mages' quarters. The two gossiping mages' words from earlier, calling her brave and talented, returned to her, causing her cheeks to burn. What she wouldn't give to hear them directly from Cullen's mouth.
"Good morning, Ser Cullen," she greeted.
"Oh, um, h-hello. I . . . uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly."
"Why are you stuttering?" She had never heard him stutter in the two years since he'd been here.
"What? I-I'm fine," he protested. "I . . .uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know."
Solona bit the inside of her cheek. If she giggled now, he'd probably think she was laughing at him. She was, sort of, but only because she had never seen him so flustered.
"I knew I wouldn't fail my Harrowing." It was easier to say after the fact, but Solona had never hid her confidence in her abilities. It earned her a significant amount of jealousy and nasty comments from the other apprentices. "I defeated the demons with the Shock spell. You know, the one I showed you yesterday."
Cullen's adorable fluster fled, concern washing across the planes of his face. "Demons? There's only ever supposed to be one."
Solona blinked at him. His confusion sounded genuine. Whatever Mouse was, he didn't appear to be a cunning trap laid by the templars. Still, the details of the Harrowing had to be kept hushed. "I can't tell you."
"You can speak of it with me. As long as you don't share anything with the apprentices, it's fine."
The mage worried her lip. She liked Cullen. A lot. And she trusted him. Cullen was a proud templar, firm in his belief that he was protecting the mages as well as the magic-less populace. He was nothing like some of the close-minded templars who were more comparable to Chantry attack dogs.
"Very well," she agreed, softly, and explained how she had encountered demons of Sloth, Rage, and Pride.
"Maker's breath," the man intoned. "Three demons. I thought your performance was impressive when I believed there to be only one. How did you deal with the Pride demon? We would never set up an apprentice with the strongest demon, not even one as talented as you."
Solona wondered if he could hear how loud her heart was beating at the casual way he kept complimenting her magical prowess. "The Rage demon insinuated it and Mouse had a deal, to trick and consume the mages. It seemed that the Rage demon had offered to share its meals if Mouse would lure the mages to it. But it turned out Mouse had orchestrated it all.
"I pushed him. Mouse had felt out of place the entire time, and the Rage demon had just cemented my suspicions. Then Mouse dropped all pretenses, transformed into a Pride demon, and vanished. You won't tell anyone that I listened to a demon?" She peered at Cullen through her lashes.
"No, I would never," he vowed. "Demons are dangerous because they tell you the truth you want to hear. But you didn't listen to it. Either of them. You didn't let them in."
Solona released the breath she had unconsciously held. "Thank you."
"You've always been so confident." He hesitated. "I've heard of failed Harrowings. The consequences were . . . unpleasant."
"Would you truly have struck me down?" Solona regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth.
"I would have felt terrible about it," he admitted, and oddly that eased her heart. "But . . . I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded."
She could appreciate his commitment and his honesty. As well as the cut of his jaw when he tried to look solemn. Cullen's cheeks still had a slight roundness to them and were steadily darkening to the shade of a currant.
"Yes, I suppose, then, I shouldn't be distracting you from your duties," Solona said, lightly.
"Oh, you're not distracting. I mean you are, but . . . well, you're not. You're good. A good distraction, I mean. I mean, you can talk to me any time, if you want. I like talking to you."
"Well talk later then? In the library," she suggested.
"Uh, yes, we can talk another time. You can come and talk to me any time you like," he repeated, red spreading across the bridge of his nose, and Solona could have shimmied if suddenly breaking out into dance wouldn't have been embarrassing. Cullen was too nice to everybody. For the longest time, she thought that must be the case with her, because all of their little flirtations never developed into something more. Seeing him babble and stumbling over his tongue reassured the mage that he would likely react positively if she approached him about having some fun in the near future.
Solona didn't really hear what excuse Cullen gave as he quickly retreated into the bowels of the tower. Her eyes were focused on the shape of his ass, since the lower half of the templar uniform was a purple skirt layered over chainmail. For armor, it was surprisingly form fitting. And, consequently, all she could think about was how soft the flesh would feel beneath her fingers.
She slapped her hands to her cheeks to snap her from her fantasies. Daydreaming about her favorite templar's skills in bed was distracting Solona from her task. She was already running for a meeting with Irving.
Inexplicably, she paused just outside the tower's Chantry. Solona hardly counted herself as Andrastian, for all that she invoked the Maker when things went sideways, but perhaps a few words of thanks and a fervent prayer wouldn't go amiss.
Briskly, she crossed the room to the altar to offer a prayer. May the Maker continue to preserve her from demonic influence and provide her with opportunities to prove herself more than the magic she wielded.
"Blessed art thou who exist in the sight of the Maker. Blessed are the penitents who seek His return. Blessed is the prophetess, purified by flames. May the Chant reach the Maker's ears and tell him of our contrition. So let it be."
Keili finally noticed she had an audience and stood. "Oh, I didn't see you there."
"I didn't mean to intrude," Solona said, awkward. She hadn't realized there was someone else in the Chantry until she began chanting. Considering the time, Keili should have been with her mentor, not kneeling in an alcove of the Chantry.
"I recite the Maker's blessings every day. It brings me peace in troubled times."
"Are you troubled?" Solona couldn't refrain from asking. Perhaps the apprentice was concerned about her Harrowing. She never imagined that such a fuss would come from her passing. All the Harrowed mages were happy for her distinction, but the apprentices were suddenly all anxious for their own.
"No, no, not really," Keili was quick to say. "It's just . . . I don't want to bore you with this."
"It's all right. I want to know," assured Solona. She couldn't walk away without knowing.
"It gives me hope that one day, the Maker will hear us. That maybe I'll be forgiven, and my curse will be lifted."
"Curse?"
"Magic—what else?"
Of all the inane ideas! Solona curled her hands into fist to hide how her fingertips were sparking. Magic was not some kind of punishment. If anything, mages were more closely linked to the Maker than everyone else in Thedas, because they drew power from the Realm in which he once dwelled. No other being in the world could claim such.
"Magic isn't a curse," Solona firmly stated.
Keili shook her head solemnly, disappointed her viewpoint wasn't shared. "Magic causes such misery. It's dangerous and vile and wicked," she insisted.
"The Chantry must protect the world from us. Being born with something so terrible must be a punishment. I wish I could be rid of it."
Solona's violet eyes hardened. Keili's attitude was an affront to all who had dedicated their lives to using magic for others' benefits. "If you wish to be rid of your magic so badly, go ask to be made Tranquil."
"That takes the magic from me?" Did she seriously just ask that? How did Keili not know what Tranquility was? "It does, doesn't it?"
"You won't be able to feel anything. Blocking your magic also cuts off your emotions. Your dreams. You won't even be a person anymore."
Keili didn't seem to hear her warning, too overjoyed at the prospect of not having magic. "I had heard that, but life without magic is so tempting. I should go. My mentor only allows a few minutes each day for religious contemplation."
Uneasy, Solona watched the brunette apprentice run off. Tranquility was her worst nightmare. She couldn't imagine not having mana flow through her veins, to not care at all about the world around her. It was unfathomable to her that anyone would wish that—state of nonbeing, essentially—upon themselves.
Irving's door was wide open, so Solona walked straight in. There were three people already present inside the First Enchanter's office, making the unknown man, the dark-skinned wall of muscles in Rivaini style armor, the Grey Warden. Bearded, muscular, with hair graying at the temples. The man had quite the noble bearing.
"Many have already gone to Ostagar. Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages. We've committed enough of our own to this war effort."
"Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir?" Irving argued, tone like gravel. "Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"
She hovered on the fringes of the argument. Everyone in the tower knew where these two men stood on the topic of mages and magic. There wasn't much to talk about in the tower, not counting poorly concealed hookups and the latest theory on how Anders escaped, so most gossip focused on the unending contention between the mages and their watchers.
Greagoir took a threatening step forward. "How dare you suggest—"
"Gentlemen please. Irving, someone is here to see you." The Warden's voice was rich and dark just like the rest of him.
All three men turned to see Solona, hovering awkwardly just inside the room like a fresh apprentice sent to the First Enchanter for a lapse of attention in class. "You sent for me?"
"Ah, if it isn't our new sister in the Circle. Come, child."
"This is her?" Duncan's question hung in the air between them as he moved to stand next to the First Enchanter, leaving Solona to wonder if she didn't meet his expectations.
"Yes, this is she." Irving's pride was hardly hidden.
"Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later."
Solona wondered if she was the only one to see the Knight-Commander's parting words as more of a threat than a friendly reminder.
"Of course. Well, then . . . where was I? Oh yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."
"Is this why you had me summoned?" Oh, Maker, she hoped he said yes.
"There is something else, but I wanted you to meet Duncan first." Solona deflated, slightly. The Grey Warden's presence was a coincidence, then. "You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."
"Who are we fighting?" she asked. Rumors had run rampant throughout the tower as the higher echelon left the Circle. Despite that, no one knew who they were fighting, though the predominant theory was Orlais was attempting to re-conquer Ferelden.
"The darkspawn threat grows in the south. We need all the help we can get," answered Duncan.
Solona shuddered. The darkspawn were twisted monsters that dwelled underground. And the Chantry never let the mages forget that it was their kind that had unleashed the terrifying monsters upon the world. The recrimination had never sat right with her. Blaming mages for events that occurred nine ages ago, particularly when the mages in question were Tevinter magisters. As far as she was concerned, the Exalted March on the Tevinter Imperium had done nothing for mages, except give the Chantry the power to decide their fates. Everyone knew Tevinter still practiced blood magic and slavery. They had their own separate Chantry based on their views on magic, which claimed mages were the only people capable of holding titles and deciding laws.
So why did the Chantry proclaim to this day that it was the mages' hubris that brought the darkspawn into existence when it was the greed of men that had no qualms with blood magic? Why were mages all across Thedas forced to live under constant scrutiny and fear while descendants of the original magisters likely reveled their freedom and flaunted the use of blood magic to this age?
"They have formed into a horde in the Korcari Wilds and threaten to invade north into the valley."
"And how can mages help?" Solona felt her skepticism was warranted. Enchanted weaponry and armor, sure, but the blonde was never very good at that particular branch of magic. It required more patience and precision than she could muster. Not to mention, it would be better to leave mage capable of runecrafting in the tower. It was a safer environment for their work and had more materials on hand. Irving wouldn't have introduced her to the Warden if he had come looking for the Circle's Formari.
"The power you mages wield is an asset to any army. Your spells are very effective against large groups of mindless darkspawn. I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight."
"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for her."
And it would be even happier if the First Enchanter hadn't changed the topic. Finally, she met someone that shared her opinion. Magic could be used to help others. Instead of scrubbing the tower's floor on her knees because the templars decided she had spent too much time with her nose buried in a magical tome, Solona could use her affinity towards primal spells to eviscerate darkspawn.
Duncan was unapologetic. "We live in troubled times, my friend."
"We should seize moments of levity, especially in troubled times," countered Irving. He gazed upon her with a serious countenance. "The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi."
Her leash, he truly meant. One more piece of evidence of the Chantry's hypocrisy. They feared maleficars, the practitioners of blood magic, and yet they used the blood of mages to keep track of them, to exert control over mages.
Solona had always imagined she would feel more accomplished on this day, but she had been forced to acknowledge several unpleasant truths since she had been dragged from her bed. The biggest of which being she was no longer content with her stagnant life in the tower, devouring arcane knowledge in stolen hours because the templars controlled every minute of her day. When she woke. When she ate. How long she spent in classes and studying in the library. Whether or not she was allowed to prayer—not that she did, but Solona should have the option to. Even the people she interacted with. She wanted to be able to do something with her skills and not squander her years in the tower until an apprentice was assigned to her.
She thanked the First Enchanter by rote because it was expected of her.
"I'm sorry, what is this phylactery?" Duncan questioned.
"Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials."
"So, they can be hunted if they turn apostate." The words were mild, but one would have to be deaf to miss the layer of disdain underneath the sugar coating.
"We have few choices. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly."
That was the point of the Harrowing, or so Solona had thought. Apparently, it mattered not whether a mage had proved herself capable of resisting a demon. The templars would still hold onto that vial of blood for the moment they felt was inevitable.
"You have done this," Irving continued, completely glossing over the lack of logic he had exposed. "I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."
Solona accepted the folded robes, dyed the gold and blue colors that would indicate her new status, and a very familiar wooden staff. Apparently, they were standard issue because every mage in the tower, except those who had earned enchanter statues, carried the same staff she did. It seemed to her the seemingly life-changing Harrowing had changed nothing for her.
"What happens now?"
Irving laughed. "Patience, child. You have been through an ordeal. Let us not rush things. It goes without saying that you will not discuss the Harrowing with those that have not undergone the rite."
Then perhaps Harrowed mages shouldn't be returned to the apprentices' quarters afterwards, Solona thought, resentful. If they were truly concerned about the rite's secrets, it would be better to separate them immediately.
"Now, then . . . take your time to reset, or study in the library. The day is yours."
"I would prefer to talk now," she insisted. He had wanted her to meet Duncan and then hardly allowed the man to talk about the reason for his presence in the Circle Tower.
"Impetuousness is ever the providence of youth, I see."
Undoubtedly feeling like a third wheel, Duncan announced his intention to return to his quarters. Irving offered Solona's services in escorting him. Fortunately, she had found his room by chance and was capable of doing so.
And she relished the opportunity to continue to speak with Duncan away from the First Enchanter's ears and eyes.
"Thank you for walking with me," Duncan said as he followed her. "I'm glad for the company."
"I wanted to talk with you a little bit more."
His dark eyes twinkled, knowingly. "Yes? What about?"
"Have there been many darkspawn attacks? We don't get much news from outside."
"Enough to cause concern. We Grey Wardens believe an Archdemon is leading the horde."
"Archdemon?" That was new.
"Darkspawn do attack the surface in ragtag bands, but Archdemons are capable of rallying the darkspawn. Turning them into an unstoppable force. A horde of darkspawn. A veritable army. I fear this is what we will have to face."
Not entirely unstoppable. Four Blights had ravaged Thedas. Solona recalled the fourth one occurring several hundred years ago. But history told that each Blight ended thanks to the efforts of the Grey Wardens.
"But I thought the darkspawn were destroyed in the last Blight?"
Duncan sighed. "We can't seem to eradicate them completely. Somehow they always come back."
"Why were Irving and Greagoir arguing about the war?"
"It is not my place to comment," the Grey Warden was quick to reply.
"Please, I'd like to know," she tried to persuade, but he remained firm.
"As I said, it is not my place. Thank you for escorting me."
Belatedly, Solona realized the pair were standing outside the guest quarters. She told Duncan that it was her pleasure, and it was because she had gotten to learn more of his mysterious order. If all went well, she might be headed south with him in a couple of days, if Irving and Duncan's conversation was to be believed.
Jowan was waiting for her outside the Grey Warden's quarters. Had he followed her? Jowan was the only person who knew she was meeting with Irving.
"I'm glad I caught up to you. Are you done talking with Irving?"
"I must be since I'm not in his office." Her sarcasm was ignored.
"I need to talk to you." Jowan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you remember what we discussed this morning?"
Maybe it was leftover paranoia from her Harrowing, but his behavior today had been off. "Why are you whispering? It looks suspicious."
"Shhh! I . . . I just want to make sure we're not overheard. We should go somewhere else. I don't feel safe talking here."
Because of the Grey Warden? Or was it proximity to the senior mages in general? Either way, Solona was very much alarmed by her friend.
"You're starting to worry me, Jowan."
"I've been troubled," he admitted at last. Him and every other mage she talked to today. "I'll explain. Come with me, please."
He led her, of all places, to the Chantry. She supposed it was a reasonable place to hold clandestine meetings. Most mages avoided it and the templars didn't come in droves until after the evening meal.
The dread in her gut spread when he beelined towards one of the initiates.
"We should be safe here."
"In the chapel? The templars' favorite haunt?"
Once more her sarcasm was mistaken for concern. "We can see the door from here. If anyone comes we'll change the subject," the initiate responded.
"Who even are you?" Solona snapped.
"A few months ago, I told you that I . . . met a girl. This is Lily."
Solona groaned. And to think she thought her feelings for Cullen were foolish. At least he hadn't sworn any vows of chastity.
"I was beginning to doubt her existence." As it stood, she wished Jowan had made Lily up.
"I was afraid to tell anyone. She's training to become a Chantry priest, but she's taken vows, been given to the Chantry. She's not allowed to have . . . relations with men. If anyone finds out . . . we'll both be in trouble."
"And now you've brought me here to talk about your affair. I don't want to be complicit in this relationship. You only have yourself to blame."
Jowan, and especially Lily, were fools for even entertaining such an affair. There was no way it would continue to go unnoticed. Punishment, when it came, would be swift and severe.
"I won't give Lily up for anything." Solona thought she might be physically sick when Lily looked at him like he hung the sun in the sky. "Remember I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my Harrowing? I know why. They're . . . going to make me Tranquil."
Jowan looked distraught at the idea, and Solona felt guilty. But not because she hated the idea of Tranquil, but because she thought he had only brought this upon himself.
"They'll take everything from me that I am from me—my dreams, hopes, fears . . . my love for Lily. All gone . . ."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"I need to escape. I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it they can't track me down. We need your help. Lily and I can't do this on our own."
"Give us your word that you will help, and we will tell you what we intend." Lily was calm while her lover worked himself into a panic.
"I . . . I need to think this over."
"I suppose that's fair. But please give us your answer soon. Time is running out."
Solona walked calmly out of the chapel and as soon as she was beyond their sight, set off running. If she shed some tears, she ignored them.
Why did Jowan have to be so foolish? If he was willing to wait . . . In a couple of weeks, the Harrowing would be a thing of the past and Jowan would finally be able to crow about winning one of their bets.
She took a calming breath outside Irving's office and knocked. There was no turning back now. Solona entered when bidden. The First Enchanter was pleased to see her. She mustered up a weak smile.
"I trust you saw Duncan back to his quarters? I'm glad you met him. He's a most honorable man."
"I need to talk to you about something." Hopefully, they could discuss the Grey Warden later.
"Certainly. What is on your mind?"
"Jowan fears he is going to be made Tranquil."
Irving's accommodating expression slipped away. "And how does he know this? I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him." Solona had never been one for hiding her feelings, a trait she regretted now. "You think I didn't know? I didn't become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."
"Then you must know that Jowan plans to escape the Circle."
"Oh, interesting. What else do you know?"
"They wouldn't tell me more."
"So, his lady friend is involved? Yes, I suppose she must be helping him. She would know more about the repository than he would. You know anything else?"
Solona shook her head.
"It's of no matter," Irving said. "I suspected Lily would tell him of the impending rite if she found out. But I never expected they would have the gall to break into the repository."
For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to strike the First Enchanter. It's a rare mage that is willing to be made Tranquil. Honestly, Keili was the only person she could recall wishing for her magic to be stripped from her. Of course, Jowan would come up with a desperate scheme to avoid that fate.
"So what are you going to do?"
"Reporting him to the templars and Greagoir will accomplish nothing beyond what's already planned. If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while my apprentice suffers."
Solona tried to wet her mouth. Irving wanted Lily to get into trouble as well? It wouldn't serve any purpose. Wouldn't the loss of their ill-timed love be enough? Having to see him around the tower and know he couldn't feel anything for her?
"That's rather vicious of you," she protested.
"And Chantry and templars are models of magnanimity?" he said with derision. "They would make us all Tranquil if they could and call it a kindness. They fancy themselves our guardians, sitting smugly on their righteousness. The Chantry must be reminded that not all of them are blameless."
"Can't you just tell them she's involved?"
"If we mention her involvement, the Chantry will say she was framed. No, she must be caught in the act."
"So, you're using Lily to get back at the Chantry?" That seemed unfair in Solona's opinion. Lily had made a mistake, and it certainly warranted punishment. But Irving seemed more interested in sticking it to the Chantry than he did seeing justice dealt.
"If you want to survive, you must learn the rules and realize that sometimes, sacrifices are necessary. Jowan will become Tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences of her actions. How did you learn of their plan? Do they trust you?"
"They haven't told me what they plan," she admitted.
"Then do this. Learn the plan and offer to help carry out their scheme. With solid proof of their crime we can act."
"I'm not comfortable deceiving them."
"It must be done, child. Go, convince them you will risk all for their cause. I will be outside the repository with a contingent of templars. Let them see the mischief into which their initiate has led our student. Perform well, and your dedication shall be rewarded."
Wonderful, so Solona would look like a sell-out. Now she was damned either way. She could only hope that by going along with Irving's plan she was doing Jowan a favor. Perhaps they wouldn't make him Tranquil when they learned of Lily's involvement.
Maker, what a mess Solona had gotten herself into.
Solona hurried back to the chapel, knowing it wouldn't be good if someone had seen her talking with Irving. She tried to act natural when she re-entered, absentmindedly taking note of how she couldn't see the pair of lovers from the doorway.
"You're back! Are you going to help us?" Jowan asked when she ducked into their shadowy corner.
"There's more I need to know, first?" Everything pointed to Jowan being slated for Tranquility for reasons that had nothing to do with Lily. The papers had been signed and she wanted to know why.
"Really, what?"
"How did you meet Lily?"
His face lit up. "She was saying the Chant of Light in the chapel one night while I was walking past. I had heard that chant many times, but I never realized how beautiful the words were until then. I'll never forget that night."
Okay, that was way too mushy.
"Why do you think they want to make you Tranquil?"
Jowan let out an aggrieved sigh. "There's a rumor going around that I've dabbled in blood magic. That's why they won't let me take the Harrowing."
Solona furrowed her brows. She didn't pay much attention to gossip, but rumors of blood magic spread like wildfire whenever they cropped up, and she couldn't recall anyone associating Jowan with blood magic.
"How did these rumors start?"
"I've been sneaking around to meet Lily in secret. Maybe others have seen me and assumed I must have been doing something forbidden."
The blonde gave him a pointed looked, for he was sneaking around to have a forbidden affair, to which he gave a sheepish grin.
"I suppose we are. But they think it's blood magic and it isn't!"
"Then why don't you tell them the truth?"
"I've thought about it, but it will only make things worse. Lily will be punished! I can't do that to her. Maybe if it was just Irving, he would spare me. But he has to keep the peace between the Circle and the Chantry. If he stirs up too much trouble they might replace him. They could wipe out the entire Circle if they wanted. The Chantry abhors blood magic. That's why they're willing to pay attention to this stupid rumor. Aren't you sick and tired of the Circle running your life? You could get out of here with us."
Jowan's impassioned words gave her pause. Sensing he had struck a chord, the dark-haired mage barreled on. "We can find your phylactery as well."
"My phylactery has already been sent to Denerim."
"The repository holds more than phylacteries. Join us, and the artifacts will be yours for the taking."
Solona chose not to respond to Lily's bribery. It would be stupid of her to take anything from the tower's vault when she knew there would be templars waiting for them.
"You could be out of here and gone before they even dispatch a messenger to the city," Jowan cajoled. "You're talented and clever. You could take your phylactery back from your hunters, if you wish. You have so much power. Once you're free . . . they wouldn't be able to stop you."
She struggled to maintain a placid expression. What chance did she have of overcoming templars who could smite her? Jowan was grasping at straws, trying to find the one thing that would sway her to help with their desperate scheme.
It was disappointing to be faced with the realization that her oldest friend didn't know her very well. Even if her phylactery had been present, Solona wouldn't have contemplated destroying it and escaping. As detestable and hypocritical as the practice was, it wasn't possible to change people's opinions of mages if they believed she was an apostate.
"So? Have you decided?"
Violet eyes closed. Solona sent a quick prayer to the Maker that she would be forgiven for what she was about to do.
"The circumstances . . . are different now. I will help you."
"Thank you," breathed Lily. "We will never forget this."
That Solona believed. None of them would forget the events of this night. Jowan, however, would lose his ability to feel betrayed and Lily would probably be sent to a different Chantry.
"So how do you intend to get at Jowan's phylactery?"
"I can get us into the repository. But there is a problem," Lily began, and Solona wished she could roll her eyes. "There are two locks on the phylactery chamber door. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander each hold one key. But it is just a door. There is power enough in this place to destroy all of Ferelden. What's a door to mages?"
"Probably a magical door," the female mage muttered.
"We have no choice. We cannot get our hands on both keys."
Solona deeply regretted involving herself in this. Jowan and Lily didn't have any semblance of a plan. Did they think the strength of their love was going to get them through magically locked doors to the most secure room of the tower?
"I once saw a rod of fire melt through a lock. We could get one from the stockroom. But Owain doesn't release such things to apprentices."
It felt like Winter's Grasp had been cast upon her. They needed someone who had passed the Harrowing to take the risks for them, because it was against Chantry law to turn Harrowed mages Tranquil. How long had they waited for this day? Were they even happy for her at all? Or did they only see the shiny new key that would set them free?
"Let's not waste any more time, then," she dimly heard herself say.
Lily clutched at Jowan's arm. "We should stay here. One mage at the stockroom will attract less attention than a mage, an apprentice, and an initiate. Good luck, Solona, our prayers go with you."
"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?"
Solona valiantly ignored the flat delivery. "I need a rod of fire."
"Rods of fire serve many purposes. Why do you wish to acquire this particular item?"
His response surprised her. Shouldn't he have just gone and fetched what she requested. "Why do you need to know?"
"It is procedure."
Solona tried to come up with a need that wasn't melting locks on doors. "What can the rods be used for?"
"Some mages require them for their research; others merely want to light fireplaces."
For the love of Andraste, fireplaces? Her kind was too lazy to learn a fire spell to light their own fires. "I anticipate having to light a fireplace."
Owain didn't react to her sarcasm, unable to feel offended. Perhaps he couldn't even recognize when words were strung together in such a way as to be subtly mocking.
"I shall put down that you require the rod to deal with a personal matter. Here is the form—'Request for Rod of Fire.' Have it signed and dated by a senior enchanter. I will release a rod to you once I have the signed form."
Which senior enchanter would sign the form for her? Solona debated asking Irving himself. All she would have to do is explain Jowan's plan required it, and the elderly man would undoubtedly sign it. The only issue was it might look too much like a set up if Irving had aided them in getting into the repository.
Maybe Leorah? She had only recently been promoted to senior enchanter, so the woman might be easy to convince.
Solona headed towards the Circle's laboratory, knowing that was where she would find the senior enchanter in question. The laboratory also had its own storeroom, caves built into the rock the Circle had been built upon. It was a much safer place to keep the dangerous and volatile reagents. Perhaps, there would even be rods of fire inside. Solona would certainly like to get one from Leorah and not leave behind a paper trail if this all went down in flames.
"Senior Enchanter Leorah?"
"Yes?" the elf responded.
"Do you have any rods of fire in the storeroom?"
"No, that's something the Tranquil deal in." The vehemence was unnecessary, Solona thought. "This storeroom is for raw magical material and alchemical substances. Lyrium, basilisk blood, and so on."
She wondered if large quantities of lyrium would be capable of blowing a door. "Could you sign a request form for a rod of fire for me, then?"
"Oh no, I couldn't. I'm in the middle of stock taking."
And Leorah could get right back to it if she would just sign the damn form. "Maybe I could help you," offered Solona.
"Oh, no, no. There are . . . things . . . in there I would prefer to keep . . . safe. I can't let anyone in there in case they . . . mess things up . . . yes."
"So why are you out here and not in there?" she asked, slyly.
The senior enchanter panicked for a moment. "Look, I'll tell you the truth, just keep it to yourself. There is an infestation of spiders in the caves. I don't know how they got in there but it's probably my fault. I was promoted to senior enchanter less than a fortnight ago and I don't want anyone to find out. They'll think I'm incompetent!"
"If I help you, will you help me?" Leorah looked at her, considering. "I'll deal with the spiders for you, and when I'm done you can sign my request form."
"Yes, if you can clear out all the spiders, I'll sign it for you. Here's the key, and be careful in there. I'd really like to keep the damage done to the Circle's property to a minimum."
Solona just about jumped out of her skin when the first giant spider dropped from the ceiling behind her. It was nearly as tall as she was. Spiders had no right being that large. She zapped it from a distance, then picked up a lesser health potion from the ground nearby.
The spiders had really done a number on the place. Every couple of feet she was finding bottles of lyrium and health potions that she had no qualms pocketing. Leorah would just assume they had been destroyed as a result of the spiders, and Solona certainly deserved something for the ever-larger growing web she was weaving around her.
One spider managed to catch her off guard, throwing itself upon her. Fangs ripped at her face. Solona shoved the end of her staff into its abdomen. The spider rolled off her, legs curling as it died.
She cast a simple healing spell, letting its soothing waves roll over her. She'd probably never get used to the sensation of skin knitting itself back together. The blood she wiped off her face with the hem of her robes where it would hopefully go unnoticed.
Solona came across several chests as she hunted the giant spiders. She peeked inside each one, curious. In one she found a soft pair of leather boots. She could feel the mana in them, though she couldn't guess its purpose. She switched them out with hers anyway. Enchanted boots were better than non-enchanted ones.
It took maybe a quarter of an hour to clear out the spiders, but every passing minute added to her stress. What if Irving and his templars reached the repository before they did? Catching them before they entered wouldn't be as damning as after the deed had been done.
Leorah whirled about as the storeroom door creaked open. "You're back! Are the spiders gone?"
"Yes," Solona answered as she brushed off silky strands of spider webbing.
"Oh, that's wonderful. You've saved my hide, I'm sure. Where's your form? I'll sign it now."
Solona produced the piece of paper, which the senior enchanter signed with a flourish. "Thank you."
"Right, there you go. How's that?"
"Excellent, thank you," Solona thanked her once more.
"It was a pleasure. You'll go far in the Circle, I bet."
Uncertainty had Solona holding her tongue. The last twenty-four hours had shown her a side of the Circle she had never seen. In this one instance, Jowan had a point. What good would it be to rise to the rank of First Enchanter if the Chantry would still dictate how she lived her life?
Maybe Irving would be kind enough to select her as a possible recruit for Duncan.
Signed form in hand, she returned to the stockroom.
"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?" the Tranquil greeted.
It was creepier the second time. Owain may not have had feelings, but did he have to repeat the same robotic greeting to every person who dropped by his stockroom?
"Here's the signed form."
Owain took it, eyes carefully scrutinizing the signature at the bottom. "Everything looks to be in order." He entered the partitioned area that had been organized into the stockroom and came back with a carved white steel metal rod. "Here is the rod you requested."
Solona nearly body checked a templar in her rush to get away from Owain.
"Slow down, Solona. The books will still be there tomorrow." Violet eyes widened.
"Cullen?"
The templar laughed. Solona's gaze was drawn to the way his hair was curling at the tips and how those curls bounced with every twist of his delectable neck. "You don't stop for anything, do you?"
She let him steady her. "What do you mean?" she asked, wary. Was Cullen aware of the illegal activities she, Jowan, and Lily were about to start? No, she figured. He wouldn't be so cheerful if he was here to arrest her.
"Only half a day since your Harrowing and you're headed for the library. You don't have to worry about the books walking away on you, you know."
Thank the Maker. Cullen thought she was being typical bookish Solona, always eager to learn something new. For a hot minute, she debated asking the templar for his opinion. Cullen had always been kind to her, and really, the worst he could do was report the whole scheme to Greagoir. The outcome would be unchanged. Jowan would still be made Tranquil and Lily would be sent away and she could ease the guilt that was already making her stomach churn for her involvement in the whole mess.
"You said I could talk you later. Is now okay?"
Pink dusted his cheeks. "Oh . . . I mean, of course. Yes, we can talk. Something on your mind?"
Solona decided to just go for it. As long as she was careful to not mention names and keep the details vague, Cullen wouldn't be able to act upon anything he learned. She really needed an opinion other than monitor them under the guise of helping.
"If someone you know was going to do something stupid, what would you do?"
Cullen looked thoughtful. She was grateful that he didn't immediately respond that she should report suspicious activity to the Knight-Commander. Reporting Jowan and Lily would be the easiest thing to do, but the mage really didn't want to see either of them punished for finding love. They found it in the worse possible people considering Jowan was a mage and Lily was a Chantry initiate, but they didn't deserve to suffer because of love.
"That would depend on how stupid, I suppose. If nobody was going to get hurt, he could probably learn from making a mistake."
"And if someone were to get hurt?" she pressed. Because Solona couldn't imagine any scenario in which the three of them walked away smelling like roses.
Cullen advanced. Her back hit the wall and he used his wide armor and palms on either side of her head to block her in.
"Tell me it's not you," he demanded lowly. "If you're afraid someone is going to hurt you . . ."
She rushed to reassure him. "No, nothing like that. Not physically," she said frantically.
"Emotionally."
"I don't understand."
Solona sighed. "Neither do I, really. Someone I know wants help hiding something. I think they're lying to me, but Irving wants me to go along with it and help expose them. But I'm not really comfortable tricking them like that."
"What are they trying to hide?"
Solona shook her head. "I can't tell you that."
"Well, if Irving trusts you to handle this task, his solution is probably for the best. If you do as he says, all should be fine."
She wished she shared his easy confidence in authority. "Have you never been given a command you disagreed with?"
"No. I perform the Maker's will." She admired how resolute he sounded. Perhaps a bit of faith was all she needed.
Solona's hand came up to cup his cheek. "I'm glad I ran into you. Thank you, Cullen."
Cullen's entire face turned bright red as he suddenly realized how their closeness could be misconstrued as a lover's embrace. "You're clever. You'll make the right decision, Solona. I know you will."
She waited until the templar had vanished around the corner before ducking inside the chapel.
"I hate waiting. It makes me nervous." Jowan's voice carried from the far corner.
"You don't have to wait any more. I have the rod." Solona waved it before him.
"That was quick!"
"To the repository then. Freedom awaits."
Lily and Jowan took the lead this time. Solona believed they should have shown more prudence. It would have been better for her and Jowan to follow a bit behind Lily, so that she would have time to unlock the basement door. Not to mention no one would see an initiate rushing through the halls with two mages.
Lily led them to a much thicker wooden door than Solona had expected. She hoped the rod of fire was strong enough on its own, because she had no talent for the fire element.
"The Chantry calls this entrance 'the Victims' Door.' It is built of two hundred and seventy-seven planks, one for each original templar. It is a reminder of all the dangers those cursed with magic pose."
The blonde mage shot the her a scathing glare for that remark. If she was so devout, what was she doing falling in love with a mage and helping him escape?
"How do you know this?" Jowan asked, curious.
"Initiates must learn the Circle's history if they are to work with templars and mages."
Solona wanted to call bullshit. As a mage, she obviously learned the Circle's history, and no one ever mentioned a monumental door. Clearly, it was a Chantry thing.
"More importantly, how do we get past it?" Solona posed at their expert in all things Chantry.
"The doors can only be opened by a templar and a mage, entering together." Lily rushed on, likely sensing that Solona's tolerance for the poorly planned escape had reached its limits. "The Chantry provides the password, which primes the ward, and the mage touches it with mana, to release it."
Lily's explanation had done her no favors. The more Solona learned, the more it appeared they only needed her here to take the fall for them. The two of them were all that was needed to get through. Apparently, she needn't have even bothered with the rod, which made her wonder why Lily hadn't said earlier that it wouldn't be necessary.
"Since you have the password, can't Jowan help you enter?" She said, pointedly.
"The ward only responds to the touch of one who has been through the Harrowing," the brunette explained.
Solona's brows shot up. Why would Lily bother with such an obvious lie? She had never heard of a ward that could determine whether or not the magic touching it had passed its Harrowing. Mana was mana. And while each mage's mana had a different feel, making it possible to recognize them by that feel alone if one was sensitive enough, it wasn't like being put through the Harrowing changed that signature.
"I trust you have the password," she prompted, though she didn't trust anything from either of them at this point. Maker, the demons she confronted in the Fade were more truthful than Jowan, who was supposed to be her friend.
"Yes, I got it from a templar who recently accompanied a mage into the vault." Solona supposed the password must never change. Nor, apparently, was it suspicious for a lowly initiate to be asking for the magical words to a door she didn't have enough seniority to enter. "We have chatted on many occasions. I believe he trusts me." Because that meant he wouldn't report her desire for out of place knowledge.
Lily turned and reached an arm out towards the door. "Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade." A soft clicking noise indicated the phrase had had some effect. "The password only primes the door. Now it must feel the touch of mana. Any spell will do, but hurry."
Lily stepped to the side and Solona hit the door with an Arcane bolt.
They waited with baited breath. The locked overturned loudly, and the door swung open. Elated, Jowan was the first to reach the repository's door.
"Quick, melt the locks off!"
Valiantly resisting the urge to question if this door didn't also have a magical password, because she was thoroughly fed up with the scheming lovebirds-their plan had more holes than swiss cheese and she was likely to turn the rod of fire on one of them should another lie fall from their lips-Solona aimed the rod of fire at the door and pushed her mana through it. At this point, she wasn't even surprised when it failed to work.
"What's the matter? Why isn't it working?" Lily was panicking now, clearly not having had the forethought that the second door would be magically warded.
"Lily . . . something's not right. I . . . can't cast spells here. Nothing works."
The blonde remained silent as they tried to hash out what was preventing the use of magic.
"These wards carved into the stone . . ." Lily brushed her hand over the intricately carved wall, "this must be the templars' work. They negate any magic cast within this area."
Her Circle history class must have been very thorough, if the priest-to-be was taught what magic preventing wards looked like.
"I should have guessed. Why would Greagoir and Irving use simple keys for such a door? Because magical keys don't work! How do you keep mages away from something? Make their powers completely worthless! That's it then! We're finished! We can't get in."
"What about that door? Where does it lead?" Solona drew their attention towards the second door at the end of the hall. She hadn't gone through all this trouble in hopes of sparing Jowan the Rite of Tranquility for them to cry and moan and the first sign of failure.
Everything in the Circle was, aptly enough, built in a circle. If they could get through that door, chances were they could still get into the repository.
"That door probably leads to another part of the repository. What are the chances of there being another entrance?"
Solona was willing to bet they were rather high. Irving hadn't given her any instructions on how to reach the phylactery chamber, and he obviously knew they wouldn't be able to get past this door. "We don't have much choice. Unless you want to turn around, now?"
It was Lily that answered. "We can't get into the chamber the way we planned, but we're not about to give up. We can see where this door leads, but I don't think it will be easy . . . it's probably locked as well."
Solona marched towards it, rod of fire held aloft. "Let's hope it's not warded, then."
A stream of fire leapt from the rod when she channeled her mana. With a whoosh, it flared hot enough to melt the lock. She pushed open the door, only to whip around at Jowan's cry of alarm.
"That's not good!"
The suit of armor had come alive.
Solona directed Lily to stand back. She had no fighting skills and would only break her hand if she actually threw the punch she intended. Her lightning magic wasn't safe to use in such close quarters, and Solona didn't fancy seeing if the metal armor would redirect it back at her, so she stuck to blasts of raw spirit energy.
Two more sentinels stepped away from the wall when the small group turned down the next hallway, setting the tone for the rest of their journey, undoubtedly.
They wasted a lot of time checking if the repository lay behind every door they crossed.
"We need to get out of here," Lily said, as they dispatched the fourth group of sentinels. Solona agreed. She was rapidly depleting her mana and she only carried two lyrium potions.
The next door held creatures she had never seen before. A pack of small, lizard-like creatures, but with a head and mouth resembling a worm. Whatever they were, they had very little fortitude and were dealt with quickly.
They were jumped by three sentinels in the next hallway, a sure sign that they were getting closer to their goal. Occupied as she was, Solona only saw the spray of blood from her peripheral vision. Her hands were already bathed in the green aura of Creation magic as she took Jowan's arm. The sentinel's mace must have landed a glancing blow. The gash was shallow enough for her to handle.
Solona was grateful when they finally found the large room of artifacts. If she was right, the phylactery chamber was on the other side of the wall to her left.
But she definitely wanted to search the room first. The was so much history locked away down here. She wanted to look while she had the chance, because she would probably never be allowed in the repository again.
There was a blackened staff in a large stone chest. It took the joint effort of both her and Jowan to push the lid off far enough to see what was inside. Solona decided to take it with her. Irving had said she would be rewarded for her actions. She believed this staff was a suitable reward. It didn't look very impressive, but she could feel that it held more power than its appearance led one to believe.
Jowan called them over to take a gander at an odd statue he had found.
"I wonder who it is," mused Solona. Its craftsmanship wasn't of Ferelden make.
"Greetings."
"Maker's breath! Did it just say something?"
"I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to the Archon Valerius. Prophecy, my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house."
"Archon Valerius?" Solona repeated, astonished. Why in Andraste's flaming knickers would the Circle have an ancient, talking Tevinter statue?
"'Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress,' he said, 'and tell your lies to all who pass . . .' But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold."
"A Tevinter statue!" Lily exclaimed, blatantly repulsed. "Don't listen to it! The Tevinter lords dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing!"
It was, but not solely because a long dead Tevinter magister was responsible for it. The statue had once been a woman, betrayed by the man she loved. Now she sat, conscious, as a stone statue, unable to pass on.
"How did they do this to you? Are you still alive?"
"Weep not for me, child," the statue said solemnly. "Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again."
"What does that mean?"
"Ambiguous rubbish," came Jowan's voice over her shoulder. "It could mean anything. I can do it too: The sun grows dark, but lo! Here comes the dawn!"
"Stop talking to it. Please, both of you," pleaded Lily. "Come on, Jowan. We need to find your phylactery."
The found another Tevinter statue, this time in the shape of a dog. This one didn't talk, thank the Maker, but its presence sent Lily off into an impressive rant about why the Circle kept so many Tevinter artifacts in storage.
"It's history, Lily . . . and it's fascinating. I've seen pictures of ones like this before. They amplify any spell cast into them," Jowan explained.
Solona understood why this one was locked away. The last thing apprentices learning to control their powers needed was access to the statue that acted as an amplifier.
"I bet we could use this to break into the phylactery chamber," Jowan went on. "It should be right on the other side of that wall. It already looks like it's crumbling. See where the mortar is decaying?"
She touched the rod of fire to the back of the statue and had to duck away from the resultant explosion. There was no way that had gone unnoticed. Irving and the templars would be heading to their location now.
The phylactery chamber was covered in a layer of frost, probably to preserve the blood. It also contained more sentinels. The icy environment benefited the trio of conspirators. The sentinels were sluggish and jerky in their movements, allowing Solona to make quick work of them. Jowan, upon entering the room, had beelined for the second level with his love on his heels.
After the last armor clattered to the ground like a cut puppet, Solona began scouring the shelves, looking for any way to distinguish one phylactery from another. Seeing all these vials of blood unnerved her.
"This is my phylactery! We found it! I can't believe this tiny vial is all that stands between me and freedom." His voice took on a trance-like quality. "So fragile, so easy to just be rid of it . . . to end its hold over me . . ."
Jowan dropped it. The vial shattered, spilling its contents. Solona felt a slight shudder pass through her as she sensed the magic being released.
". . . and I am free."
"Not to burst your bubble, Jowan, but the sooner we're out of here, the better," said Solona.
"I don't want to stay here a moment longer," Lily agreed with her.
From the phylactery chamber, it was easy to reach the tower's main level. For reasons Solona couldn't be bothered to contemplate, they were able to open the magically locked door from the inside, and not have to traverse the entirety of the repository.
"We did it!" Jowan cheered as they left the repository behind. "I can't believe it! Thank you . . . we could never have—"
"So, what you said was true, Irving."
The Knight-Commander's words cut across Jowan's preemptive celebration. Solona was almost disappointed to see Irving had brought the templars, as promised. She half wanted to see how the lovers planned to get out of the tower.
"I assure you, this isn't what it what it looks like," Solona was quick to say.
But Greagoir's stern faces was directed at Lily, half hidden behind Jowan. "An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I'm disappointed, Lily."
The templars truly believed Jowan was a blood mage? He was too weak to be a maleficar.
"She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then. You're were right, Irving," he turned to address the first enchanter. "The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished.
"And this one," he said, pointing an accusing hand in Solona's direction, "newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the Circle."
"It's not her fault! This was my idea!" Jowan protested. The blonde couldn't even appreciate the prompt defense. She certainly thought it would have been kinder of him to wait a day before springing this on her. She didn't get to enjoy the fact that she passed her Harrowing.
"She is here under my orders, Greagoir. I'll take full responsibility for her actions."
Solona didn't shrink from the pained look Jowan gave her. "Wait . . . you . . . you led us into a trap?!"
"You have to know this wasn't the right choice, Jowan."
"Don't you dare speak to me!" he spat.
"Enough!" commanded Greagoir. "As Knight-Commander of the templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death."
Solona opened her mouth to protest. Jowan was a fool, dreaming of things he couldn't have, but he wasn't a blood mage. He didn't deserve to be killed.
"And this initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar."
Two templars clunked their way towards Lily, who shrank back, protesting feebly. "The . . . the mages' prison. No . . . please, no. Not there!"
Solona couldn't blame her for her fear. Aeonar was many a mages' nightmare. Its location was known only to the templars. There was rumor the Veil was thin there. Having stepped foot in the Harrowing Chamber, Solona had a frame of reference to compare it to. Those who had a powerful connection to the Fade, and particularly to demons, would inevitably attract something across the Veil, making the guilty somewhat easier to tell from the innocent. It was a trial-by-fire that most mages failed.
"No! I won't let you touch her!"
Solona could only watch, stunned, as Jowan withdrew a dagger and plunged into his other hand. Blood grotesquely writhed up around Jowan, dancing towers of red and black. He flung his hands towards the gathered templars and blood, more than she thought a human body capable of holding, raced forward, knocking everyone but her, Lily and Jowan to the floor.
Jowan turned to his love, only to see Lily retreat from him. "By the Maker . . ." she breathed. "Blood magic! H-how could you? You said you were never . . ."
"I admit, I . . . dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!"
By the Maker, Solona swore. Where did he get such a dumb idea?"
"Blood magic is evil, Jowan. It corrupts people . . . changes them . . ."
He tried to plead with Lily. "I'm going to give it up. All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. Please, come with me . . ." he begged.
"I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you . . . I . . . I don't know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me . . ."
Later, in the safety of the inn across the lake, Solona would blame the now wilting flower that was Lily. If she hadn't encouraged Jowan's feelings he never would have sunk to learning blood magic. He never spoke of gaining freedom from the Circle before Lily appeared in his life. Like the rest of them, Jowan was resigned to life in the tower.
Heartbroken, Jowan fled. Solona did nothing to prevent his escape. Jowan, a blood mage? How had he hidden that from her? A pained groan had her kneeling by Irving, who was beginning to rouse.
"Are you all right? Where's Greagoir?"
"I knew . . . blood magic." The Knight-Commander climbed to his feet. "But to overcome so many . . . I never thought him capable of such power . . ."
Him and her both, Solona thought, regretfully. She had believed Jowan when he claimed the rumors of him using blood magic were false.
"He lied to me!" Solona defended when Greagoir's piercing gaze fell on her.
"None of us expected this. Are you all right, Greagoir?"
"As good as can be expected given the circumstances!" the head templar was enraged. "If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!"
"He can't have gone too far." The tower sat in the middle of Lake Calenhad. Only Anders ever managed to reach land successfully, and he never shared how he did so. "You could still capture him."
Greagoir sneered at her. "Believe me, we will use every resource. Where is the girl?"
"I . . . I am here, ser." Lily still cowered at the top of the staircase.
"You helped a blood mage! Look at all he's hurt!"
"Lily didn't know Jowan was a blood mage. None of us did."
"Save your breath. I can speak for myself. Knight-Commander . . . I . . . I was wrong. I was accomplice to a . . . a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even . . . even Aeonar." Lily ducked her head before the Knight-Commander, awaiting her sentence.
"Get her out of my sight," he ordered. Once more he turned his attention and fury on Solona. "And you. You were in a repository full of magics that are locked way for a reason."
"Did you take anything important from the repository?" asked Irving.
"Yes, this staff." She removed it from her back and held it out to them. "You can have it back." It did not engender the goodwill she was hoping for.
"Some honesty, at last." Greagoir was less than impressed. He clearly believed she shouldn't have taken it in the first place. "But your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! What are we to do with you?"
She shot a fear filled look at the first enchanter. "I was only doing what I was told!"
"As I said, she was working under my orders," explained Irving.
"And this improves the situation? The phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save you and me!"
Irving crossed his arms. "I had my reason."
"You're not all-knowing, Irving! You don't know how much influence the blood mage might have had. How are we to deal with this?"
"Knight-Commander, if I may . . ." Solona nearly gave herself whiplash when she turned to find Duncan approaching. "I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens. Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks."
"What?" Greagoir was outraged. "You promised him a new Grey Warden?"
"She has served the Circle well," Irving defended. "She would make an excellent Grey Warden."
Solona felt as if the bones in her legs had turned to mush. For a moment, she thought Greagoir was going to insist she be punished for her part in this travesty, acting under Irving's orders or not.
"We look for dedication in our recruits. Fighting darkspawn requires such dedication as she has shown, often at the expense of all else."
"I object. You say she operated under your instructions, Irving, but I do not trust her." Not a surprise. Greagoir didn't trust any of the mages. "I must investigate this issue, and I will not release this mage to the Grey Warden."
"If the Grey Wardens will have me, I will gladly go," Solona interjected.
"Greagoir, mages are needed. This mage is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood mages—you know that. I take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for her actions."
"This mage does not deserve a place in the Order," argued Greagoir.
"Why? Do we not reward service?" Irving asked, rhetorically. "This mage has served the Circle well." His next words were directed at her. "You have an opportunity few even dream of. Do not squander it."
"So, I am to be a Grey Warden?" Was Irving allowed to overrule Greagoir in this regard?
"Yes. Be proud, child. You are luckier than you know."
Lucky, maybe. But there wasn't much left for her at the tower, anymore. Her closest friend turned out to be no friend at all and was now an escaped maleficar. If she stayed, Greagoir would always be watching her. The only good memory she'd take away would be those of her and Cullen. Odd, that the templar turned out to be a better friend to her.
"Come," Duncan beckoned. "Your new life awaits."
