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[Nefi87]

Will do when I wake up

[RoraM]

Behold the Beast

 

2nd day August 9:44 Dragon

 

     Before the Ancient Age, when the Emerald knights defended Halamshiral, they walked alongside wolves.  They fought when they fought, ate when they ate, and when the knights slept, these fierce companions stood watch.  Only when I grew older did I wonder if the knights guarded the dreams of wolves, in turn.  The tales did not say.

 

***

 

     My eyes adjust to the darkness of the pyramid.  The jungle air is so heavy, to breathe might be to drown.  Already hair sticks to my forehead, while sweat trickles down to pool in the hollow of my throat.  That an eluvian should lead here is less surprising than the Ben-Hassrath tolerating a magical mirror.  Par Vollen is not safe for mages and I am no longer Basalit-an.

 

     I call up tongues of veilfire to my fingertips and before me blazes the all-seeing eye of Elgar’nan.  Cassandra would have viewed the same symbol with bewilderment, unable to reconcile her belief with evidence her Chantry appropriated our nonsensical elven iconography.  Her faith does not allow for any gods other than her own, though she would have others make room for her absent Maker. 

 

     I wonder what she would have made of the wolf-headed god.

 

     He stands square-shouldered bare-chested above a horned multitude, his feet stepping in profile, his pointed ears upright and listening.  The head of his staff is of two silver snakes twining around an orpiment jewel, which he uses to point the way across a vermilion sea; his other hand is fixed in the gesture of warding, keeping unseen forces at bay behind him.

 

     Or is it before him?  I draw my hand across each sloping wall, the pigment colours muted in the cool blue light.  The Iron Bull once told me these ancient glyphs could be read from left to right or right to left.  These murals have been carefully restored, evidence the Tamassrans consider them of historical and not religious import.  But is this a tale of evacuation or invasion?  Is the eye of Elgar’nan on the rise or in decline?  Hurtling themselves from their broken, burning towers, do the figures descend into chaos and ruin with the birth of their animal-gods or with their banishment?  Were you here to Dream, you might have learned the truth of it and gained another story to hold me enthralled.

 

     I stare at the wolf-god one last time, standing over his ocean of blood.  I will find a way westward, if not to you, then to gold.  I have business with Fen’Harel and I dare not keep Xenon waiting much longer.

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

Author's Note:  Title taken from the seventeenth canto.  It  describes the seventh circle of hell, Violence, which is guarded by a minotaur.

[RoraM]

The Fraud

 

     I am moving.  I hear the rhythmic pound of hoofbeats.  I blink myself awake, pain lancing through every muscle as I try to sit up.

 

     “Ah, I think it best you didn’t move.”  His voice is at once warmth, sweet spice, and silken comfort.  “Few would take on a pride demon on their own; fewer still would survive the encounter.  I, myself, know of only one other so foolhardy—and so lucky.”  I look down.  Around my wrists twist bands of iron filigree, fashioned to resemble peacock feathers, the symbols of House Pavus.  “Forgive me.  All part of the ruse.  You are my newest and, might I add, sole, personal slave.  It was the only way I could smuggle you through.  You’re in Tevinter, by the way, traveling the Imperial Highway.  Near Perivantium, to be exact.  You just missed Solas.”  He sees the panic in my eyes and laughs.  “No, not the apostate.  The city, though why—but that is hardly my place to say.”  Swallowing hurts and my lips are cracked dry.  He looks at me sympathetically and holds a skin of water to my mouth.  “I’m taking you to my family’s mountain villa.  It’s fairly secluded and ideal for recovery.  I must say, when the Inquisitor first wrote to me asking to help arrange an expedition to the Western Approach, I was intrigued. At the time, things in Minrathous were heating up for this altus-turned-revolutionary.  I reasoned it would be far easier to see my assassins coming surrounded by desert and I rather fancied another adventure.  What I didn’t fancy was facing more demons, but it all turned out in the end, didn’t it?” I smile weakly.  “Rest now, my friend.  You’ll wake soon enough.”

 

***

 

7^th day Drakonis 9:45 Dragon

 

     I pace the garden.  The air is scented with the roses that carpet every vertical surface, their heavy heads bobbing in the breeze.  In the distance, I can just make out the Hundred Pillars.

 

     Beneath an arbour, a servant silently lays out fresh fruit, ices, and sweetmeats onto a crisp white tablecloth.  My freeing the slaves stirred up trouble in Perivantium, even though most of them returned for hire.  We take care not to venture into town unless absolutely necessary and never alone.

 

     “It seems our vandals have decided to take a holiday.  A shame, really.  I’d gotten rather used to seeing a freshly-painted ‘Vishante kaffas’ beneath the family motto every time I returned.”  I smile. “Come.  Sit down and join me.  The ride from Vyrantium was terribly tiresome and I am absolutely parched.”  Dorian pours me a glass of white wine. “Silent Plains Piquette—the one good thing to come out of the Silent Plains.”  I drain my glass.  He raises one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows.  “Troubling news, I take it?”  I hand him my letters.

 

From the depths beneath the City of Chains:

 

Forgive the prosaic nature of this missive, Inquisitor.  It lacks the theatricality my clients have come to expect from my correspondence, but I am much preoccupied with restoring my Emporium to its former glory.  It is just as well.  This new urchin’s scribing skills leave much to be desired.  Perhaps you heard of the fire that consumed half of Kirkwall shortly after you left?  I can assure you both Chauncey and I found the whole ordeal quite disturbing.  Amidst the smoke and the chaos, I not only lost an urchin, but the piece, or rather, pieces you requested.  However, I retain and have since procured several other items of interest, which I invite you to peruse at your leisure.

 

I remain yours, etc., etc.,

 

X.

 

Your Inquisitorialness:

 

Well, Darktown is gone.  So is most of Lowtown.  The Merchants Guild found it strange none of my business interests suffered from the fire, so, of course, I must have had something to do with it.  Apparently, they haven’t heard of “the Maker’s will”.  Between them, the Carta, and the displaced sh*t from Darktown, I’ve had my fair share of run-ins, but nothing Bianca and I can’t handle.  Got the money you sent.  Glad to hear Sparkler is still alive and kicking.  Tell him he still owes me ten royals.  Funny thing.  You heard of my friend, Daisy?  She had one of those arulin’holms you asked about—used it to repair her eluvian.  When they evacuated the alienage, she found someone had taken it.  Seems to me, you’re looking for an elf—someone no one would question seeing around—and, likely, a mage.  Daisy said none of her wards were triggered.

 

V.

 

     “I do find it odd that I keep missing Inquisitor Lavellan each time I visit," he observes bemusedly.  I shrug.  He refills my glass before popping a grape into his mouth.  “I’ve gotten some worrisome reports from our scholars back at Solasan.  The site’s no longer safe.  Even the soporati were starting to hear the demons speak from behind the Veil.  I’ve been advised the entire camp heads back to Minrathous.  I must travel to Minrathous myself, soon, but the Inquisitor should look into this.”  I nod.  “You will, won’t you?” he asks, placing a slim brown hand over mine, his grey eyes searching my face.  I stare at him.  In the next moment tears begin to well up in my eyes.  “I won’t ask how things came to be this way," he adds gently.  “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.  A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi, I suspect."  We both take a breath and his mouth curves into a smile.  "As for how I knew, I happened to catch the tail-end of your fight with the pride demon.  You used your Mark to banish it back to the Fade before falling down half-dead from blood-loss."  He squeezes my hand.  "I know what it’s like to want to do things on your own, to not wish yourself beholden to anyone, but I could have helped.  Solas is not the only one who loves you, Tala.”

 

     At the sound of my name, I let out a broken sob and wrap my arms around his neck.  My tears stain Dorian's tunic.  He simply strokes my hair. 

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

Author's note:  Title taken from the eighth circle of Hell, where falsifiers and sorcerers reside.
 
Vishante kaffas:  Tevene.  Literally, “I sh*t on your tongue.”
A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi:  Latin adage.  Stuck between a rock and a hard place.  Literally, “A precipice in front, wolves behind.”
 
If you're wondering what happened to the urchin, someone had taken to whispering in his dreams, encouraging him to smuggle the pieces of the mask out of the Emporium. He's found his way to Ferelden, where the voice told him he would find work on Master Dennet's farm. Every evening, he sits at the dinner table with Elaina and Seanna, each of whom slip him extra helpings when the other's not looking. He spends his days in the sunshine, tending to the horses and feeding the druffalo, feeling useful and happy. Soon he will forget he ever lived beneath the City of Chains.
 
As for Merrill, she may have set wards around her house, but she kept the arulin'holm in the same room as the eluvian.  Huh.

[RoraM]

Traitor

 
Satinalia Firstfall 9:45 Dragon

Through the open ceiling of the oasis temple, I watch second moon give way to morning star. The Mark in my palm awakens unbidden, signaling trouble ahead. My spirit blade hums to life, its sound soon drowned out by the clamouring spirits struggling to push through the Veil. Their cries grow louder as I near Solasan's distal chamber.

Arranged in ever-widening circles are the artifacts of my people, removed from where they were intended to strengthen the Veil to surround a central, lone figure with both arms upraised. They begin to pulse white-hot, sending beams upward and outward, forming a jagged, blinding lattice. No, not a lattice. A never-ending volley of arrows moving at light-speed to bring the shuddering Veil to collapse. The figure turns and it wears the mask of Fen’Harel.

With a cry, I rain down the full force of my magic, but every attack is anticipated: fire matched with ice, lightning met with spirit. If I can get close enough, my arcane blade will end this stalemate, but my adversary always remains one Fade-step out of reach.

Suddenly, the Veil buckles and reality bends, folding over and around me. Reeling from vertigo, I feel the ground give way beneath my feet. Frantically, I look around, my hands scrabbling for some fixed point, but it is too late. The enemy holds me tight in Winter’s grasp before the world rights itself again.

Then I hear your voice.

“Did you think I would not recognize my Heart?” You speak in the ancient tongue and behind the thinning Veil the spirits enact scenes of joy, sacrifice, and sorrow from a life spanning centuries. “After memorizing her scent and watching every graceful move, when faced with the vessel of my dreams, how could I not know her?” Only when versions of myself take their brief place among the memories—your memories—do I finally understand what you are.
 
“I have not shared your dreams for some time, my love.” I answer, using the ancestral words, my voice hoarse with disuse. “I have been apart from you, apart from myself. Please. Do not do this.” You shake your head.

“You do not know what it is you ask, for you cannot conceive what was lost! The fault was mine and it must be corrected!” Behind the wolf’s face your eyes glint fierce and bright.

“And what else will this bring?” My voice is stronger now. “What of Mythal? Of hatreds spanning ages, eager to swallow everything in their wake? No. You do this out of fear. You do this so you will not die alone, the last of your kind. You do this because I was not—could never be—enough.” The Veil buckles again and, though greatly weakened, it still holds. In the next moment comes clarity.

Who guards the dreams of wolves?

“Your mask. It needs elven blood.” Able to move once more, I lay down my staff and begin to strip off my armour, my helmet first to fall to the ground. I will be calm, unwavering. I will not look back. “I have seen the future burn with the loss of the Veil and I know what it’s like to live without you, both in this world and that world that never was. I will not bear either again.” Your glittering eyes rest fascinated on my scarred, naked throat. I start counting heartbeats, willing them to slow.

One.
 
Two.
 
Three.

I kneel, laying dagger before me, cutting edge honed ready.

Four. Five. Six. I bow my head, unbound hair falling forward, concealing your approach.
 
Eleven, twelve. I hear you pick up the blade. It was inevitable, for I have already known your fire.

Cool fingers caress my cheek and gently tilt my scarred chin upwards. I watch as you lift your mask. Sixteen, seventeeneighteen. Unlike mine, the angles of your face remain unchanged.

Twentytwentyonetwentytwo. You kiss me and each time your mouth is both brand and balm.

Thirty. I feel your breath against my ear. My dark eyes widen as you whisper. I hear the roaring of oceans. I smile with all my pointed teeth then gently shake my head. The spirits press in all around us.

“Oh, my heart, my only love. When did you say you would save me?”
 

THE END

[RoraM]

Golden Mask of Fen'Harel by rassaku

[RoraM]

Author's Note:  Title taken from the ninth and last circle of Hell, Treachery.
 
The orb is known in Tevinter as a "somniborium", a vessel of dreams.

 

"Survive the first thirty heartbeats, and you'll have already won."

 

"How small the pain of one [woman] seems when weighed against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone."

 

 This chapter is an homage to Phthalo and her work "Twenty-Two", who helped me get over my writer's block.

[RoraM]

Now that Trespasser is out, there is so much to think about.  Time to return to writing, I think...

[Nefi87]

Oh yeah I was so happy, that *spoiler alert* my Inquisitor had finally the big day with Cully-Wully Still sad for my Dajan being in love with Solas tho...