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wootensmith · 6 years

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Vir’dirthara

They were in the vir’dirthara, dozens of them. A forgivable trespass, laudable perhaps, had they only been seeking knowledge. Solas might have simply chased them off, following them to their leaders, had they only been learning. But the Qunari were destroying what they did not take. Saarebas burned ancient tomes of history and magic and art under the command of their keepers. “They are frightened, Solas,” whispered Cole, suddenly crouching beside him. “It crawls and pries at them, the longing for more. The flames consume the magic. Secrets locked safely behind absent tongues.” “They are fools,” he hissed. “They destroy what they do not understand so that no one else will ever have the chance to discover it.” “Suffering is a choice. And we can refuse it. The way of peace.” “You cannot believe that.” Cole shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. They think they’re saving the world by taking away the magic. So did you. Once.” “And what a price we are all paying for my error. Must it be compounded generation after generation?” Cole touched the glimmering cord around Solas’s neck. “Maybe it wasn’t a mistake. She changes everything, but you can, too.” He bit back a bitter laugh. “You should go, Cole. I must wake the librarians. I cannot watch them destroy what little has survived. It will not be safe.” Cole stood. “I should have brought you food,” he said abruptly. Solas looked up at him. “Why?” “So you would remember that you aren’t that kind of wolf.”

He glanced back at the smoky library, the rage welling in him. “I am no longer so certain I believe that.” “She does. And so do I.” “Go, Cole.” His hands flickered and the boy’s face grew bewildered as he dissolved back to the Fade. He would not remember the conversation. Solas leaned over the edge of the tiny floating island where he stood. He called the librarians to wake, but he did not stay to witness the slaughter. Cole’s presence likely meant the Inquisitor was near, now, and his own agents would be in danger if he allowed the Qunari to stay in the Crossroads. He pulled his helm back on and fade stepped to the eluvian.

They were green, these Qunari, barely trained in combat and bewildered when Solas simply called the guardian spirits to the crossroads and vanished again. Was this mission of theirs unimportant to Par Vollen? Or had they been purposely selected to prevent questions? They had likely not expected any resistance, relying on stealth rather than force. Solas flipped through a small journal that had been in a small camp. Elf recruited from Kirkwall. A waste, he thought, pity and scorn mingling in him. Yet, how could he blame them? He had not been there when Kirkwall burned in the madness after the chantry crumbled. Nor the years before, as the alienage starved. “This is only what we see from the outside, Solas,” The Inquisitor’s voice echoed in his head, “The Qun gives them something, some belief, some purpose for their lives.” Some strength that they could not find in Kirkwall to recover their dignity. How could he begrudge them that? He wrenched control of the eluvian back but left it standing open. If they would have the good sense to flee, he’d allow it. Those that remained— Ir abelas, Vhenan, I cannot risk you, not even to honor your wishes. He moved on, following their trail through the broken rubble of the valley. Abelas and Ilan were already battling the Qunari when he slipped through the next mirror. “Council has already begun,” gasped Ilan, making Fade flame bloom beneath the feet of a soldier. “Our people?” asked Solas crystallizing another in ice just as he bore down on them. “Safe. Already through and hidden,” grunted Abelas as he stabbed another. The soldier yanked himself off of Abelas’s sword and stumbled toward the eluvian. Abelas followed casually after him. “We were the rear guard. They were moving more barrels. Couldn’t let them finish.” He raised his sword. “Wait,” said Solas. The Qunari was crawling down the rocky path now, long ribbons of blood coating the ground in his wake. Abelas hesitated and looked back. “Let him go. They’ll find him. She’ll want to know where he came from. Let her find what they’ve done. The Inquisition needs to know of its betrayal.” Ilan shook his head. “The Inquisition is done, Solas,” he said. “He would only need a moment to set off a primer—” “They need to know. This may not be their only attempt.” Abelas nodded and began dragging the flagging Qunari to the mirror. “I’ll make certain they find him,” he called back. “And us?” asked Ilan. “We must find the dragon they are using to craft the gaatlok. And who is behind all this. I have my doubts that it is the Salasari.” Ilan pointed toward a dark eluvian. “They came from there, but they’ve locked it— a different key. Many have come out, but I’ve seen none return through it. Should we force it open? I don’t know how much aid I will be to you—” Solas frowned. “No. If they’ve changed the key then it may no longer go to the shrine as it ought to. I have no wish to emerge somewhere in Seheron without warning. If that is where they have come from, they must return to notify their leaders that their plans have gone awry. That should happen soon, if any who were in the vir’dirthara have survived. Come, let us see.” He led Ilan back through the tower, stepping over fallen qunari on the way. “You’ve already had many battles, it seems. Do you need to rest?” Ilan shook his head. “I’ve a few in me yet.” “Let me—” The roar of a warrior from the steps interrupted him. A squad of five were guarding the eluvian. They moved to strike and Ilan sent a wall of flame crashing into them. There were screams and two toppled from the platform in a desperate attempt to escape the others remained. Solas pushed him behind him. “I’ll need your eyes and ears, Ilan,” he said. The remaining three qunari closed in. “Where is your viddasala?” he shouted. But they raised their blades. It was frightening, how easy it was to kill them. A thought, and that was all. Rigid stone stood in their place, their spirits fled and all the warmth gone. Ilan shrank back from him. “How long have you been— where did you—” “Peace,” he said gently, “I am on your side.” But Ilan flinched when Solas drew near. “For how long?” “Would I have trained you to find my weaknesses if I meant it to be temporary?” The boy looked doubtful. “What weakness? You turned them to rock without even touching them. Without any spell at all.” He stumbled backward as another realization hit him. “They’re all like you, aren’t they? The Evanuris. They’ll all be as strong as you are. We have no chance at all, do we?” “You are not alone, Ilan. There are many others who will stand with—” A wild laugh erupted from him. “What does it matter?” Ilan waved at the three statues towering over them. “You took three by yourself. Without even moving. How many would it take to overwhelm you? Fifty? A thousand? Ten thousand? There aren’t enough of us left to defeat them all.” Solas’s shoulders sagged. He knew well, what awaited them. “I hope when the Veil is removed that you will be like me. Like the Evanuris. There was not such a difference between the People before the Veil. And the spirits who will aid you number beyond counting—” “And you? The other Evanuris? The Veil’s removal won’t make them more powerful? They have had thousands of years to win spirits to their side—” “No, Ilan, they have not. They cannot reach the Fade as you can. They have been ripped from it even more completely. There will be some spirits who side against you, but it will not be for love of the Evanuris. Trust in me. I will not lie to you, the chances of surviving are not large, but I would not have brought you to Arlathan if they were nonexistent. You know this.” “I knew this would be a terrible battle, that I would likely not survive, but I did not know this. I didn’t know it would be so easy to defeat us, to wipe us utterly away—” “It will not be easy. And I will not allow you to be forgotten.” There were voices in the tower behind them. “Come,” said Solas, “We must find the Qunari’s commander before she can destroy the Inquisition. I do not want them stumbling into the viddasala unprepared.” Ilan looked doubtful but followed him through the eluvian. A large unit awaited them in the broken tower on the other side. Too many for Ilan. “Back through, quickly! Find Abelas,” shouted Solas. “But—” The tower rang with the crack of Solas’s mind blast. Half of the Qunari crumpled around him, but the others did not hesitate to take their place. “Now, Ilan!” he shouted, pushing the boy into the mirror. The silver rippled and swallowed him. Solas wrenched the eluvian from its destination. That mirror would not lead here any longer. Ilan and the Inquisitor were safe. For the moment. The Qunari around him froze and shattered. Foolish, he told himself, I need them to tell me what lies beyond the dormant mirror. Restrain yourself. They’d been using the tower as barracks. He searched for clues among their kits. Dozens of barrels of gaatlok gleamed in stacks against the walls. This was much bigger than even the plot he’d uncovered. They could take out half of Val Royeaux with what was in the tower alone. There was little to find here. He retreated to his old valley again. Abelas found him in the old armory. “Is Ilan safe?” he asked. “Yes,” said Abelas. “Gone to keep an eye on the Inquisitor after she returned to the palace. His face is not familiar to her, she will not notice him as she would me. He was— shaken. I gather you have finally allowed him to see the true extent of your power?” “It was a mistake,” admitted Solas. “He is frightened of me.” “He should be. It was reckless to leave them in the dark for so long. It will give him more resolve when we return to training.” “Or break his will.” Abelas frowned. “They are more resilient than either of us have given them credit for. Thousands of years they have endured what would have been torture to us. You should not doubt them.” He was silent. It was not his people that he doubted, only himself. “I chased the Qunari through another mirror. I don’t know where they found the key. Anaris’s tower perhaps,” said Abelas. “It led to one of the roads in the durgen’len kingdom. But there were signs of our own people there. The Qunari are using their explosives to mine lyrium.” Solas was surprised. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed. Their stockpile of gaatlok is quite large, I feared it was intended to do more damage to southern Thedas. But if they are using it for lyrium— what use do they have for it? The Qunari abhor magic.” “I don’t know. I did not linger, I was far outnumbered.” He hesitated. “I wanted to tell you— she is in pain. The echoes of your magic are reacting to the mark. Her colleagues fear she is dying. They discuss it when she is not near.” Solas nodded. “I must intervene soon. But I must stop the Qun from starting a war first. We must find out what lies beyond the closed eluvian.” “I lost those I did not follow through the eluvian. I do not know if any remain in the Crossroads.” “Gather the others. Meet me at the old shrine. We cannot let them reach Arlathan if I fail to contain them.” He took a deep breath and began the spell to reach all of those he’d recruited. “Garas vhenas,” he murmured. Abelas seemed surprised but offered no objection. “I will see you at the shrine,” he said. He took a step and then turned back. “I hope you will not be alone when I next meet you.” The only option was returning to the vir’dirthara. He’d searched for remaining Qunari for some time, but they’d fled. Only the spirits remained and they had not stopped to ask questions of the invaders. Even if they had somehow eluded him and retreated through the closed eluvian, the ghil-dirthalen might know what they sought and where they had gone. It pained him to hear what the ghil-dirthalen said of the aftermath of the Veil. He had not had the chance to speak with them at length before, but now, with the halls so silent, he was compelled to listen. If only he’d had the time to warn them, to give his people a chance to flee to safety. There was no place that was safe, he told himself. Everything shattered in an instant. But the answers he needed were among the bitterness and angry memories. The librarians had forced a retreat. The Qunari were regrouping in the Inverted Ward and intent on making a push for the eluvian. Something called the darvaarad lay beyond. It was as he’d feared. The mirror would lead him to their territory if he could not halt them. He followed the paths through to the Inverted Ward. Bran spotted him as soon as he stepped through. “It’s him!” the man cried, grabbing a sword. “It’s Solas. He’s mad! Working for— for—” “Warn the Viddasala,” shouted another. He advanced on Solas while Bran raced for another eluvian. A burst of Fade flame and the man dropped. Solas ignored the others and chased Bran through the eluvian. But the man was long gone, disappeared through another path. There were so many lying open. Solas was frustrated. He had no time to root them out. He glanced at the eluvian that led to the Winter Palace. She was right there. All he had to do was walk through. Save her. By now she knew that he was here. She must. She’d walked through his old sanctuary, spoken to his allies. Did the others know? Had she told them? Would Cassandra and Varric attack him on sight? Would she fight beside him or choose them? Patience, he told himself, speed will only make things worse. Make you miss something. He climbed the steep slope of the waterfalls to watch. The Qunari would return through here. They must. And when they did, he would be ready.

#Solas #solas and lavellan #lavellan #dragon age inquisition #trespasser

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abakersquest · 7 years

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CHAPTER EIGHT – IN THE SHADE

The now jagged moonlight awkwardly collided with the figures emerging from the shadows. Wally desperately tried to make sense of these creatures, he could make out heads, shoulders, arms, legs, but the edges of them were far too sharp to be natural. If nothing else these creatures bore resemblance to paper cutouts made by a very disturbed child. There was an unsettling hissing around them that rose in pitch every time they moved, as if sand were running through a poorly made hourglass.

“WALLY! BEHIND YOU!” Shouted Rozzi.

The wallaby spun on his heels quickly, swiping The Flare as he did, hoping to either strike or ward off a would-be attacker. The horrible black figure leapt backward avoiding the strike and unleashing a horrific squeal of anger.

More of the shadow things appeared around Mycete’s attackers, numbering now in the dozen. Rozzi’s chain flicked through the strangely stiffened air, hooking onto a distant branch before she pulled and swung through the encircling monsters toward Wally, landing by his side.

Keeping one hand toward the cage, Wistea split her focus on maintaining the structure and defending herself. Down her free arm crept several vines to form a makeshift whip. She lashed it out against the shadows she could see, keeping them at bay with powerful strikes.

“Everyone! Form up around Wistea! We have to maintain the cage!” Hector shouted as his sword parted one of the shadows straight down the middle. The beast howled gutturally as its bisected form seemed to knit back together. Grunting in frustration, Hector raised his sword above his head, bringing it down to shatter the branch beneath his feet, robbing the creatures of their apparently needed footing. He pushed past the crowd making his way to Wistea.

With another deft toss of her sickle and chain, Rozzi prepared another swing, handing the chain to Wally.

“What?!”

“Well one of us is strong enough to carry the other, and it ain’t me!”

Having no time to argue that point, Wally sheathed the flare and easily scooped Rozzi up with one arm, taking the chain with the other and leaping off the branch just as the creatures began to surround them. The pair slapped against several leaves as the arched through the air at breakneck speed, missing their intended landing point entirely.

“Wally! What happened?!”

“I have an idea!”

Landing at last on a much higher branch, Wally left the chain to Rozzi and eyed the battlefield carefully. He ran for a bit down the branch and held up his hand to better measure the range before unsheathing The Flare, holding the broadside of it toward amassed creatures.

Just as Rozzi was about to ask what he was doing, ethereal flames danced up from the crossguard and coated the entire blade, Wally grunted with effort and she could see a fire in his eyes unlike anything before. The flame around the blade began to shine brighter and brighter before Rozzi was forced to look away. The light erupted in all directions and to all who saw it; it was as if the sun had come to visit the night in the middle of its work shift.

The horrible beasts recoiled at the bright light, their shapes stretching out and contorting in some effort to escape it, only to finally evaporate like smoke from a candle wick.

In the ensuing distraction, Mycete placed his hands on the bamboo bars, a rapid fungal rot spreading out from his palms, making them easy to rend asunder and affect his escape. Wistea summoned more bamboo stalks in his path, only for them to be bashed apart by his massive bulk as he charged away from the scene.

The light finally began to ebb and Wally sighed, relieved from the exertion.

“… So when’d you learn that one?” Rozzi asked.

“Oh, I’d say about midswing when I, you know, finally stopped panicking.”

“About that, not bad for your very first try, hope your second one’s better ‘cause we have to be down there.”

Wally clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead and was left making a small unhappy noise as Rozzi launched off the sickle to a new perch for their swing.

“Are you alright?” Hector asked Wistea.

Wistea nodded, her vine whip receding up her sleeve. “Mycete’s magic is much stronger than it was before… He should not have been able to escape the cage I made.”

“Look’s like Wally’s theory was right. Those things that attacked us? They’re called ‘Shades’. They made up the bulk of Kota’s personal forces along with the Black Rock Knights.”

“That that foul false Planaetian has set foot in my homeland again ignites my ire!”

With a heavy thud and a quiet thanks to whatever deity happens to be listening, Wally and Rozzi landed near Hector and Wistea.

“Speaking of ignition, well done Wally!” Hector called out.

Wally nodded at Hector, setting Rozzi down gently, only to find her arms still wrapped around him.

“… You can let go now Rozzi.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Her smile is almost fiendish.

“Is… Is now really the time for this sort of thing? I mean, we have m-more pressing matters.”

“Well that’s just it with you, you’re hardly gonna have any time where y’not dashing off t’ save the day.” She let him go and walked in the direction Mycete took off in. “So I’ll get my flirting in whenever I get the chance. Now come on, times a wastin’!”

The purest sound of exasperation rumbled its way out of Wally’s throat, which was followed by an amiable chuckle from Hector and a curious gaze from Wistea.

Mycete’s trail was easy enough to follow; he’d left in his wake a clear gap in the leafy surroundings and on the branch itself, deep rotten footprints.

“He cannot control his newfound power” Wistea announced to the group. “It is leaking out of him with every opportunity. I am not certain if that makes him more or less dangerous.”

“Let’s go with ‘more’ for now and err on the side of caution,” replied Hector, his attention turned back to Wally as they continued following the trail. “Are you alright? Not feeling weak or unsteady?”

Wally shook his head. “It’s like you said, magic’s much easier when you do it on purpose. Although my eating habits seem to still need some adjusting.”

“Is that why you hesitated to strike Mycete?”

Wally kept walking but looked away. “… So you noticed…”

“It’s alright,” Rozzi began, walking well ahead of the two of them. “I mean it’s one thing to fight monsters, but that’s a person. An awful person sure, but still a person. Ain’t supposed to be easy doin’ something like that.”

Hector sighed. “That’s my fault really… You took so well to my training I completely forgot you’ve never actually fought people before.”

Wally nodded. Really until today, The Ragged Rogue was the only vaguely person like thing he’d ever fought. His one mugging experience was hardly a fight, and any other potential scrap ended with him either talking his way out of it or running away. That wouldn’t do anymore, he knew deep down fighting was what he had to do if he wanted to keep Mondia safe. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Mycete’s path through the treetop grew lighter and harder to follow, the rotten footprints all but gone and only bent offshoots of the branches hinted at his course. Thankfully and regrettably they didn’t have far to go to find him. Out ahead of them, within the ring of an enormous tree knot, Mycete stood just beyond what was clearly a gate built into its center. As they rushed to catch up, the whole of the knot began to rotate and the gate slammed shut after him.

“NO!” Wistea slapped a hand against the closed gate, quickly searching for any way to open it. “Elder Ygg is too weak to defend himself, if Mycete gets to him before we can open this gate, Planae is doomed!”

Hector looked down at his wallaby compatriot. “Okay then Wally, open that gate.”

Wally’s ears perked straight up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Right, shouldn’t be that hard for you.” Rozzi said, adding in some encouraging shoulder pats. “It slid closed from the top yeah? Means is weight based, so all you have to do is get your hands under and lift.”

Wally turned to face them both and knit his brow. “So we’re clear. You both assume I’ll be able to lift a gate that, judging how quickly it slammed shut and the size of it, might weigh as much as my bakery?”

The two of them nodded confidently.

Wally sighed as he walked over to the gate. He’d have argued if he had any position to, as even he had to admit he’d performed some rather ridiculous feats of strength over the last few days. He looked to the seam where the bottom of the gate met the rest of the branch and found a very slim gap he could work his fingers into. The gate jostled ever so slightly and Wally was able to get the slimmest of grips before proceeding to pull upward.

Wistea took a step back. “Um… While I do recognize you as The Flarebearer, and no doubt you have some strength to have been chosen for that task, I do not think for one moment you would simply be able to lift the sacred gate to the… well…”

Wistea’s voice trailed off into silence as the gate’s internal workings groaned and creaked in protest to the amount of force placed upon them from the tiny wallaby. Wally grunted and huffed and his arms trembled slightly as the gate rose against its wishes to remain closed. He had no time to actually think about what he was doing, every inch of his mind was focused on simply completing the act that, to everyone watching, seemed absolutely impossible. The whole assembly jerked awkwardly, as it had never been intended to be opened this way. Wally himself shook under its weight as he held the gate over his head.

Hector smiled with some pride as he squatted down low to make his way through the Wally sized gap that Rozzi was able to easily walk through. The pair then tugged on Wistea’s arms, snapping her out of a daze of amazement.

Wally shoved the door up a bit before jumping through himself, the falling weight of it nearly clipping the end of his tail. “Y… Y’know…” He panted a bit. “One… One of these days… I’m not gonna … Be able to do the things… you say I can…”

Hector smiled. “I doubt that considerably, my friend.”

---

As the heroes above their heads entered the Temple of the Wellspring, the Defense Force below struggled valiantly against terrifying odds. The whole of the infected citizenry had charged on their position at the roots of the First Tree, outnumbering the soldiers ten to one. Normally these odds would’ve been fine, assuming well trained soldiers against the average citizen. But the infected charged ahead heedless of any pain or fear of death, they surged when most armies would retreat or regroup, to the soldiers on the ground it was like fighting a living tidal wave. Worse still, they couldn’t fight to their fullest. These were the people they’d sworn to protect, comrades in arms, friends, family, meaning they could only fight with non-lethal means, against an enemy that could recover from any strike that was non-fatal in no time at all.

Millette quickly found himself the only commanding officer still standing. With the defensive line crumbling under the weight of the assault, avenues of retreat cut off, and their backs to the First Tree’s trunk, he shouted. “PAY HEED SOLDIERS OF ARBORLEDAN! WE NEED ONLY HOLD FOR ONE NIGHT MORE! FORGET THE EXHAUSTION IN YOUR LIMBS; HARNESS THE PAIN IN YOUR HEARTS, AND RALLY!” He charged forward, the massive blunt club he’d chosen to wield held high above his head.

The assembled force of outnumbered soldiers hollered a battle cry and joined in right behind him, diving into the mass of lost souls, in a desperate effort to survive just one more siege.

---

The air inside the tree was thick with the scent of a spring day after the rain. It was warm and cool in the same breath and lit by the mystical glow of luminescent moss. All along the well polished wooden walls and floor of this corridor were ancient carvings of, no doubt, Planaetians past. Some simply etched into the surface, others in full relief. However, the group had no time to take in any of the artistry or atmosphere as the rushed down a spiraling stairwell at the end of the entry passage. Midway down the full height of the First Tree they found the already open tall red oak doors to the Temple of the Wellspring. Inside an enormous figure, no doubt Ygg the Elder, barely held a shimmering barrier of light between himself and Mycete, his powerful blows rocking the mystical column of energy and visibly weakening its creator.

“Eight forms to one shape, from heart to hand and defend! GREATER SAMARA!” a shimmer of green light raced through the air from Wistea’s arms and across the room to splash against Mycete’s back. From his armor sprang forth several large flat leaves shaped like propellers. The leaves then spun at great speed, yanking the felonious mushroom clean off his enormous feet and dragging him away from Ygg.

“CUTE TRICK, FOREST WITCH!” he shouted. A creeping rot slowly overtook the spinning leaves, disintegrating them and letting Mycete drop down hard enough to crater the floor. “Too bad I’ve got one of my own.” He snapped his enormous fingers and once again the world became far too angular as more Shades rose from every flat shadow in the room. “Rush that little one with the sword! Don’t let him get off another one of those fire spells!”

The dark beasts howled and sprang toward Wally from every direction. Their impossible speed was too great for anyone to mount any defense and Wally was quickly covered in a pile of the screaming terrors.

Wistea began to ready another spell only to be launched off her feet by the sudden manifestation of an enormous flat capped mushroom. Unable to cushion her fall, she landed hard and lost consciousness.

As they were already in motion, Hector and Rozzi avoided their own makeshift springboards and approached the writhing pile of darkness to try and free Wally. Unfortunately every slash of their weapons proved ineffectual as the Shades would come apart and simply knit back together.

“OH COME ON! NOT AGAIN!” Shouted Rozzi still hacking away to no avail.

Hector took a step back, held his sword with both hands and slowly exhaled. The blade shimmered before he brought it down onto the pile again and again, its errant flashes of electric light sparking outward with every following blow. “Only magic can hurt them Rozzi! Stay back!”

Several of the Shades leapt from the pile, knocking Hector back. He rolled with the momentum to regain his footing and set upon the loosened Shades with his now enchanted sword. Their jagged fingers clashed with his blade as if they were made from steel, fighting like rabid beast with no worry for life or limb.

With a frustrated grunt Rozzi turned toward the only other threat in the room, Mycete. The towering terror had made his way back toward the hunched over figure that she assumed was Ygg. The elderly Planaetian was barely on his legs, clearly unable to defend himself much longer. So, without another thought, she flung her sickle across the distance, cutting an end off of Mycete’s head cap. His pained shout, and the fact the damage didn’t repair in seconds, let Rozzi know she’d picked the right target. “Alright y’ oversized salad mixin’! Let’s go!”

Rozzi raced to close the distance between them; she figured his magic to summon up more mushrooms only worked well at range. In addition, her experience in fighting larger opponents had proven that staying just inside their full reach always threw them off, preventing them from gaining any leverage, and forcing them to act defensively. So long as you avoided grabs or holds, you’d have the advantage. She deftly slipped under a right cross and went into a slide between his legs, springing to her feet behind him. Her short blade then made quick work of the straps connecting his breastplate to his backplate. The now loosened armor threw off the aim of his backhand strike as he spun on his heels to face her. Rozzi then rolled off to the side to avoid the following overhead strike, her sickle already slicing through the air, hooking onto the top of his loosened breastplate, popping it off with a quick yank.

“COCKY LITTLE BRUSHLING! I’LL HAVE YOUR HIDE!”

“Doin’ a great job of it so far,” she smirked.

He unleashed a guttural noise, leveling a straight left in her direction that cratered the ground that had been under her feet. Mycete’s eyes barely managed to catch her movement before she landed on the back of his hand, raced up his arm and planted both her feet squarely in the center of his angry face. She was, however, caught entirely off guard when the force of the blow rebounded off his rubbery body and launched her backward. She spun in the air to land on her feet, finding herself much father from her opponent than she cared to be, but before she could close the gap, Mycete reared both his hands back.

“Let’s see how you like this…”

Rozzi could see the spores fizzle into existence around his hands, she told her body to move but her legs seemed to lock on the spot as he thrusted his arms forward and a torrent of spores erupted from his palms. It was too wide and too fast to dodge; she knew that in an instant. Time seemingly slowed to a trickle as she saw the oncoming deluge grow closer, even if the spores didn’t rob her of her mind, no doubt there’d be painful or deadly side effects. Through the panic and fear, a spark of something danced down her arm, the undeniable urge to move in some desperate attempt at defense. She shut her eyes, tightened her grip on the sickle’s handle, and swung for all she was worth.

There was a strange silence at first, then the feeling of a cool breeze, but no impact. She slowly opened her eyes to see the spores shredded just inches before they struck her. As time began to move at its normal pace once more and her senses readjusted, she realized that she was surrounded by a perfect sphere of rushing air. She moved her sickle experimentally, noticing the sphere move slightly as she did.

As the last of the spores dissipated she saw Mycete had used them as a smokescreen to close the gap between them. Now he loomed before her, ready to bring his massive fist down like a hammer. She moved without thinking once again and the sphere of air launched into Mycete’s chest, showering him in a cascade of slashes that sent the fungal titan reeling in pain.

Meanwhile, beneath the pile of Shades, Wally struggled against their formless nature and paradoxically vice-like grips. As their goal was to smother him en masse, he was quickly running out of air and had no leverage to break their hold on him. Blind and deaf with nowhere to turn but inward, Wally began envisioning a small flame at the core of his being, a candle in a dark space that shone brighter and brighter. Wally’s body then emitted a brilliant flash of light that quickly reduced the suffocating pile to mystic embers, leaving him on his back, desperately gulping for air.

The flash of light stirred Wistea from unconsciousness, as her senses cleared she scanned the room. Hector mopped up the remaining Shades that were disoriented by Wally’s outburst. Rozzi was mere feet from the staggered general, her legs wobbling ever so slightly from her first use of magic. Wally, finally catching his breath and getting back on his feet, was staring at the general.

“It doesn’t matter…” groaned Mycete. “None of this matters…” He raised his hands up to the ceiling, an eldritch gleam surrounding them, growing brighter by the second. “I’LL JUST ROT THE TREE OUT FROM UNDER YOU ALL!

“WHY?!” shouted Wally at the top of his lungs. Every set of eyes, even Mycete’s, turned toward him. “All this destruction, the chaos… What could you possibly have to gain from any of it?!”

Mycete said nothing; he simply stopped acknowledging Wally’s presence. A mistake he’d come to regret as he brought his hands down, only to have them caught by the wallaby who’d crossed the distance between them in a single bound. As the mystic rot crept its way down Wally’s hands it was reduced to ash and cinder by the time it reached his wrist, he pushed against the full might of the general with all he had. “Just tell me why!” Wally shouted desperately.

He stared into the eyes of the growling tyrant, was there nothing left of the Planaetian he was before? Had all compassion or kindness been erased from this being standing before him? Just then, he noticed a single flicker of light that flashed behind the villainous stare. Had Wally blinked he would’ve missed it. In that singular moment something came to him, a bright and shining idea that was undeniably clear, as if it was something he’d known his entire life. He suddenly dropped all his weight back onto his tail, causing Mycete to violently jerk forward. Wally then drove both his feet square into Mycete’s chest, driving him up into the air. He quickly planted his feet, reached behind himself, took hold of the Stellar Flare and began to recite aloud, “EIGHT GODS INTO ONE MOMENT, FROM MY SOUL INTO THE WORLD! CATHEDRAL FLAME!!!”

Wally swung the Flare several times, each swipe leaving a gash of flame hanging in the air before him, creating some mystical symbol which he launched toward the falling Mycete with a mighty thrust. As the flaming sigil struck its target the bright orange fire became a blazing blue aura that surrounded him entirely. Mycete did not scream, nor he did he thrash, he simply hit the ground as the flames burned away for a short time. When they abated, General Mycete’s fungal caps were no longer black or blue, but a soft earthen red and cloudy white. His expression was not one of defeat or anger, but of the most serene sleep possible.

Wally leaned heavily on the Flare as a wave of exhaustion washed over his body. It was as Hector said, the spell came when he needed it and it was as clear as any memory he’d ever had.

Meanwhile, down at the roots of the First Tree, the embattled Defense Force watched as the infected Planaetians were freed one by one from the invasive spores controlling them. A cheer soon rung out as it was clear the small band of heroes above their heads had saved the city.

The exhausted Animani gathered together, using each other as support. Especially Rozzi, ragged from her first use of magic.

“What… Was that, Wally?” She asked, fighting off exhaustion.

“It’s… Well…” Rozzi began to slump so he doubled his tired effort to keep her on her feet. “It’s like using a firecracker to clean a flue…”

Hector and Rozzi sleepily stared at him.

“Well that’s how you do it in Gateside, anyway…”

Hector was first to laugh, followed by Rozzi who gently patted Wally on the back.

Meanwhile, Wistea approached Elder Ygg as the great sage finally felt it safe to lower his magical barrier. “Elder! Are you injured?”

The old Planaetian shook his head, every movement of his considerably tall body cueing a creak and groan. The lines in his bark like skin were deep and accentuated by the dark oak coloring of it. His eyes were thin green things that otherwise wouldn’t have been noticed if not for the glow they possessed, shining through the large bushy moss that comprised his ‘eyebrows’. His deep green robes betrayed the true thinness of his frame that became clear as he extended his long arm out to the three exhausted heroes. From his upturned palm grew three cup shaped flowers, all filled with a soft glowing fluid. “Drink,” he said in a voice that was kind, polite, and boomed as you’d expect a tree’s voice to sound. “This shall shake some of the exhaustion from your bodies.”

They thanked him as best they could, taking up the flowers and drinking down their contents. The cool fluid was beyond sweet and with every swallow they felt their fatigue fade away.”

“Now…” Elder Ygg tilted his head curiously as he eyed Wally. “I believe you have some business with me, Flarebearer?”

<[Chapter 07]–[Index]–[Chapter 09]>

#A Baker's Quest #Writing

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worldofadvent · 7 years

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NEO World of Advent Chapter Thirteen

Author's Note: For some reason I thought the tournament was called the 'Gran Serena' not the Grand Serena. I'll go back and fix it soon. Sorry for any confusion that may have caused.

NEO World of Advent Chapter 13

For the first time in a solid week, Cipher found himself in the office. The phones rang at odd intervals with a customer at the end, usually armed with the belief that they were owed a cheaper machine for Cipher's shop not having been certified by Neo Arcadia. He couldn't help it if his designs weren't reviewed by the board of commerce; such patents often took years Cipher didn't have. As it were, some of his designs were in the process of review, but when they would be finished, Cipher had no idea.

Besides, he thought with no small amount of aggravation as a woman told him that an 'actually respectable' shop sold Sliders for a quarter of the price he did his. "Ma'am." Cipher said, holding back the ire he wanted to let burst forth, "That's a pawn shop. Everything you'll find there has been broken at least once in its lifetime. Everything we sell here is brand new. Yes, I assure you it's safe; I use them myself. No ma'am, that doesn't mean - I use one of them myself. Not all of them."

The woman on the other end screeched about untruthful employees ('You just said they were brand new!') and demanded to talk to the manager. Cipher contemplated just hanging up, but even rude customers' money could make a difference. It was only when the irate woman started demanding to see 'someone competent' that Cipher told her that he'd give her over to the manager ('Hopefully someone whose parents raised him with a bit of common sense!'). Cipher beckoned Brandon over while muffling his end of the receiver. "Congratulations," he said darkly. "You've been promoted."

Brandon took the phone from him and pacified the irrational customer with a good deal more patience than what Cipher was capable of at the moment. He made his way to the back, where hopefully a cup of coffee would calm his frazzled nerves, rolling his eyes as Brandon attempted to explain that they would actually lose money if they sold a Slider at that rate. One week of freedom, Cipher thought bitterly, and you forget how crazy people are. Another dial tone sounded; it took Cpher a moment to realize it was his personal one.

"Hello?" Cipher checked the address - his home, nervously. Usually the Advents he left at the apartment complex didn't call if it wasn't important. "Is anything wrong?"

"Uh yeah," Carla's voice came through from the other end. "Is vomit supposed to be green? Charles is having a fit."

Cipher pinched his nose. Charles had come down with a fit of violent food sickness last night; Cipher had hoped that the day off was all that was necessary. A hospital bill was the last thing they needed. "Go ahead and call the medics," he told her. "Have Wess stay with him; Shirley's in charge." He made a quick motion to the girl in question, Shirley quickly packing her things for an emergency trip back home.

"Are you sure," Carla asked. "You told us not to call for an ambulance unless it was an emergency."

"You're the one letting me know he's puking up radioactive vomit," Cipher said. "Just have Wess stay by him and let me know if he gets any worse. Get him to call the medics."

"Okay," Carla said. In the background he heard her conversation: "Kyle, call an ambulance!"

"Are you sure?" the reply came back.

"JUST DO IT," Carla yelled. There was a shuffling sound as she focused her voice towards Cipher. "He's busy; is there someone else or do you want me to hang up?"

"Just get Sarah to do it," Cipher told her. He wanted to scream; could anything go right today?

"SARAH!" Carla's unnaturally loud voice blared through Cipher's communicator; he suddenly felt as though holding it away from his ear might be a good idea. "GET DOWN HERE AND CALL AN AMBULANCE. NO, I'M OKAY, IT'S FOR CHARLES." Another shuffling sound. "They're on the way," she explained calmly.

"Thanks Carla," Cipher said. "You're a lifesaver."

"He'll be okay, won't he? It was just some bad fish." Carla sounded worried.

"Yeah, he'll be okay," Cipher assured her. "The medics have dealt with much worse, I'm sure. Just make sure Matt doesn't take advantage of the chaos, alright? I don't want to come home and find the television missing."

"Alright. I'll let you know if… Hang on, Shirley's here. Should I go?"

"Yeah," Cipher said, "Let her know what's going on. Tell her to keep me informed; you're free to go."

"Thanks, Cy." Carla hung up.

Cipher let out a long growl of frustration, ignoring the cautious looks Kent and Brandon were giving each other. "Are you sure we can afford a hospital?" Kent asked carefully.

"I don't know," Cipher snapped. "But I'm not going to argue with you about making sure he's okay over a damn bill."

Kent's raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Just don't bite my head off."

"Sorry." Cipher's eye twitched as a phone rang in the now-empty cubicle belonging to Shirley.

"Do you want us to get that?" Brandon asked when it was clear that Cipher had no intention of answering it.

"No," Cipher told them. "Just close up for the day. There's nothing we can get done with just the three of us anyway. Kent, make sure nothing's using energy if it doesn't have to. Brandon, you sweep. No need to mop if we've only been here for a few hours."

"On it," Brandon said. "What then?"

"Just go home," Cipher told them. "I'm going to test something out in the meantime. Throw out whatever fish we have in storage."

"Got it," the two said. "Don't worry about us; just do what you have to do to cool off or something."

"Thanks," Cipher said. "I'll see you guys later." Cipher made his way to the back, where the general public were not allowed, unlocking a case with a passcode. It clicked open, revealing what appeared to be wrist and knee guards. They were white with dormant grey strips that Cipher knew would fill with energy upon being turned on. He put them on to see if they still fit, but soon removed them; their real purpose lay beyond mere accessories. He connected the ends of them outside, pressing a button as the compatible ends formed a bridge of green energy along its base, like the surface of a Slider.

This was his private design, the prototype for an extremely portable hoverboard- armor that turned into a vehicle. Obviously he would have to work out a few bugs and it would lack the control and power of a normal Slider, but the convenience was something else. Nothing like it was in production, Cipher knew. It was a completely new innovation, one he could charge whatever he wanted for and not be told that there was one just like it for half the price across the street.

Cipher tested the edges of the energy gingerly, taking care in case the edges were sharp. The energy used was the same kind used by the Neo Arcadian government to create sabers or other weapons; refining it to the point where it didn't take on a bladed edge had taken some effort. When they were ready for mass production, Cipher would make sure to buy the energy before it was crafted into a weapon, but scrounging for scraps was all he could afford right now.

Cipher made a slow but steady trip over the white and blue building where Neige had told him to meet if he ever needed further funds for the tourney. Anthem Broadcasting, it was called. She said she would likely be in her office anyway, and to not bother with an appointment if he had to see her. While it wasn't necessarily for the Grand Serena, hopefully Cipher could work something out for a small loan.

Once he came to a stop, the pieces of his new Slider fell apart, the energy that connected it dissipating with a hiss. Cipher examined the pieces critically, feeling them hot to the touch. He put them on anyway, rationalizing that they at least lasted long enough to get him where he was going. Stalling in one place might cause them to deactivate, a kink he'd have to fix later.

Inside, reporters talked amongst each other. Occasionally, Cipher could hear them talking about a controversial issue or griping about a certain politician they didn't like. It was strange, Cipher thought, how different jobs in the city were dominated by certain groups. The military, of course, was primarily reploid in nature, entertainment was a pretty even split, and the media seemed to be primarily human-oriented.

"Is that you, Cipher?" Neige came around the corner, a cup of something hot held in her hands as it waved steam across her face. "I thought I saw you drive by."

"Yeah," Cipher said. "I mean yes, I'm here. Could I talk to you about something?"

"Sure thing." Neige beckoned for him to follow her to his office. "So. What's up? Something go wrong with the tournament or is it something else? I thought you did pretty well in the preliminaries."

"No, nothing like that." Cipher dug out a picture of his Family for emotional impact. "One of my Family is sick. I'm pretty sure it's nothing serious, but I don't think we can pay the doctors this time around. Is there any way you could give me a loan of sorts? Just a small one; I'll pay it back as soon as physically possible."

"I can give you a loan," Neige agreed. Cipher felt a wave of relief until she added to her statement. "But i don't want your money. Most Advent Families struggle to get by as it is. There is something that you can help me with though."

"What is it?" Cipher asked. "If it's that interview you were talking about earlier, I don't mind anymore."

"No it's not that," Neige said. "Well, maybe later depending on how this goes. Cipher, are you aware that Zero and Ciel, the leaders of the Resistance, had children?"

"Yes," Cipher said slowly, "But I don't see what that has anything to do with me."

"Well I do," Neige said matter-of-factly. "Just do me this one favor and take a genealogy exam and I'll forward enough Zenny to provide for your Family for a couple of years. Just one little test."

"That's illegal," Cipher said. "Neo Arcadia forbids any sort of paternity test for Advents in a registered Family."

"I often find that what's illegal or unethical isn't always immoral," Neige said. "They told you your parents were dead, but are you really content with just their word?"

"What do you want from me?" Cipher demanded. "I'm just a mechanic. What's so important about a genealogy exam and what do the leaders of the Resistance have to do with it?"

"Sit down," Neige told him; he had risen without meaning to. Cipher grudgingly lowered himself into his chair. "I know the news keeps talking about their kid of theirs- Cero, and the one Umera kidnapped, but they also had another in incubation. They even named him."

"So?" Cipher felt an uncomfortable prickling of his skin, an old hope rising to the surface. "Who cares? They're dead."

"We never found them," Neige corrected Cipher. "A lot of folks know that their firstborn was to be named Light, after one of Ciel's ancestors. But the other one, his name was Cipher."

Cipher swallowed a hard knot in his throat. "That doesn't mean anything though."

"Really?" Neige pulled out a small mirror. "Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Advents take after their human parents, you know. I happen to be familiar with a blonde woman with eyes just like yours." Neige sighed. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"What if you're wrong," Cipher asked. "There's no way. How would I be named Cipher if they didn't know who I was?"

"I have my theories," Neige said. "The government has been pretty shady about the whole 'Advent' thing ever since Umera showed us his true colors. Do you remember anything about who named you?"

"They told me someone left a card with my name on it," Cipher said. "I just thought my parents decided they didn't want me halfway through my incubation. What, do you think it was Umera who dropped me off?"

"I've seen weirder things happen. Show me your oversol," Neige said. "You promised me you would keep me updated." She clasped her hands together tightly, expectantly.

Cipher allowed his hands to become a blackish-grey. Soon, his wrists were covered in a red sheen and Neige told him to stop. "I always thought that was what Cero's would look like," she said in wonder. "Cipher, you could have a family. A real one. Not the one Neo Arcadia assigned you."

"I do have a real family." Cipher stood up, ignoring how hollow he sounded. "I can't do it, Neige. I'm sorry."

"Cipher," Neige said, "Think about what you're doing. You could have parents. A brother. They've been looking everywhere for you. I've been looking everywhere for you. I promised them I'd let them know if I found you."

"Well you haven't found him," Cipher said. "Sorry, but I have to go. I have to go check on Charles."

"Just promise me you'll think on it, will you?" Neige's words were uncomfortably familiar in the space of the small room.

"I will," Cipher said. "But I really have to go."

Cipher made his way outside, unsurprised when he found himself at the gate of the Forge what felt like moments later. His hands were already on Joan's contact info as he pressed 'call.' The phone rang for a bit as sounds of grating metal could be heard in the background. "Hang on," she told him. "Let me get someplace quieter. What's up?"

Cipher opened his mouth, but he found himself incapable of making sound. "You're outside," Joan said, apparently having seen his location on her communicator. "I'll be right out, okay? Stay right there."

A minute later, Joan was at the gate, her brows scrunched together in worry as she saw Cipher. "What's wrong?" She led him to a nearby bench. "Come on, talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"I went to Neige," Cipher said through a sob. The tears had at last come in the form of an uncontrollable, choking sob. "She thinks…" He wiped his face with his sleeve. "She thinks my family's alive."

"I see." Joan was remarkably calm about the whole thing, Cipher thought. She held his head against her chest as she sighed. "I kind of figured this would happen."

"You did?" Cipher was confused. "Did Neige tell you?"

"Nah," she said. "But when she started taking an interest in you, I kind of knew. I always suspected… She was talking about Zero and Ciel, wasn't she?"

Cipher nodded, surprised when he felt foreign tears on his face. "I'm so sorry Cipher," she said. "I think I always knew. I was just so relieved. I thought I was alone, then you showed up, this handsome and smart and kind and blonde Advent. They never said Zero's kids died and here you were, a perfect fit. I was so scared they would take you away." Her body wracked with guilt. "I was just the orphan of some washed up general and you were so brilliant. Every day I was afraid someone would see that." There was a silence. "I was afraid you would see that."

Joan looked terrified, as though she expected Cipher to scream at her, tell her what an awful friend she was. She flinched when Cipher's head rose from her chest. "Cipher?" she asked. "I'm-"

Her words were silenced as he held her close. This was Joan, he reminded himself. His oldest friend. His best friend, even if life hadn't gone the way they planned it. "I'm not angry," Cipher said. "I think I knew as well. We were both just too scared to say anything."

"You're not mad?" Joan let out a hopeful gasp.

"No," Cipher said. "You were just a kid, same as me. If the whole world couldn't see it, I don't see why you had to do something." He sighed. "But what if she's wrong, Jo? What if you are? What if I am? I can't be their son. I'm not that special."

"You are," Joan told him. "You're the most special person I've ever met. You can do all these brainy things like manage a schedule or make sure the kids drink the milk before it goes bad or make new Sliders. I know I can't do that."

"You're pretty amazing yourself," Cipher said. "Don't you dare go thinking like you're not. There's a reason why they picked you to Head the Forge. I'm still wondering why the rest of my Family isn't scarred after living with me for years."

Joan chuckled. "I guess I am pretty great. Hey," she said, "Even if by some awful coincidence you're not their son, you'd still have me. But if you are," she added, "I want autographs. I have a limited edition figurine of Zero I want signed. None of this electronic signature bull either."

"I'll get you all the autographs if that's the case," Cipher promised her. "I wonder how I'm going to explain this to the rest of the Family."

"You could just not tell them," Joan said, adding "At first" when Cipher gave her a look. "All I'm saying is, Carla's birthday is coming up and Zero would make one hell of a surprise birthday visitor."

"Matt would probably try to steal one of his weapons," Cipher mused. "Do you think Zero could handle him?"

"I dunno," Joan joked. "That boy is pretty sneaky. Hey, here's a thought: what if you let Neige do that interview with you? You could just be sitting at home, watching the news, when all of a sudden you're the headliner. I bet that would impress him."

Cipher laughed. "I could be Zero and Matt wouldn't be impressed. I'm pretty sure Shirley would die of shock though. She has one of those limited edition figurines, too. It's in mint condition, as she keeps reminding us."

"What's the use of an action figure if you don't ever use it?" Joan bemoaned. "Everyone's all about the 'in the box' models, but what happens when you buy it? Do you just stare at it forever?"

"I guess?" Cipher shrugged. "I could ask Shirley; she doesn't even let us look at it."

Joan smiled. "I guess it'd be kind of cool if you were his son. I think Cero even has an action figure modeled after him. Do you think that would extends to you? And um, maybe your friends if you ask nicely enough?"

The two of them spent the afternoon producing all the crazy scenarios in which Cipher could uncover his being Zero and Ciel's son. It was the only way they could make sense of it, Cipher figured, by making light of such an unbearably weighty situation. But that's life sometimes. Just so long as you had someone to help make sense of the train wreck it is, you'd be fine Cipher supposed. Maybe that's what family really was.

Someone who could make you laugh even when everything went wrong. And maybe, maybe they could help make it right.

#megaman #megaman zero #mmz #capcom #long story #ocs #fanfic #fanfiction

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wootensmith · 6 years

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Forgive those who trespass

He did not need to wait long. The Viddasala emerged from an eluvian, her fist closed around her pet mage’s chain. A large group of others followed and she shouted orders as the mage cast a spell to open the mirror. They passed through, trailing a few at a time. Solas leaped down and slammed into the last soldier who’d been keeping watch. The soldier struggled a moment before dissolving to ash. Solas wiped the cinders from his armor and entered the eluvian. He left it standing open behind him, knowing the Inquisitor would follow. Safer that way, knowing where she was, what waited for her ahead. He could eliminate the bulk of the Qunari and draw her to the shrine before the anchor strengthened too much. If the others intended him harm, the presence of his own agents might dissuade them without violence. He turned away from the mirror and rage clawed at him. The relics of his people destroyed. Dozens of eluvians shattered, the fine glass shimmering against the stone walkways. He could hear the crash of more being smashed ahead. Were they trying to prevent him from following? Fools. As if I would be stopped so easily. They are frightened. Good. He followed the sound, slipping in and out of the Fade, erupting in a plume of smoke behind a soldier only to knock him from the parapet and then behind another before spearing his throat with a sharpened icicle. The fortress was crawling with them. The Viddasala had collected more Qunari than he had expected. If this plot were the product of a splinter group, then the Qun had a larger rebellion on its hands. If not— Solas shook his head and allowed Fade flame to swallow another soldier. Time enough to worry about the Qun later. It was likely they would not have an opportunity to repeat the plot. By now most of Thedas’s leaders knew what was intended. They would not be taken unaware again.

Voices from the stairs behind him. Varric’s, certainly. Dorian? He longed to turn back, but there were still too many Qunari between them and the shrine. He sped on. Shouts ahead. They’d spotted him. There was not much thought after that, just a whirl of movement and the smell of burning skin and cries cut off midstream. There were somehow always more of them. He had a brief flash of Ilan’s shocked face. If he had been with Solas, he might have drawn comfort from Solas’s fatigue in facing so many. If he were with me, he’d be dead, Solas admitted to himself. And if I do not hurry, they will turn on the Inquisitor as easier prey. A shout to close the gate ahead. The creak of large hinges above as he swept through, a deep thud as a blow hit his chest and bounced from his armor. “Barrier,” he muttered. Another mind blast rocked the fortress as he pushed them away. A metal piece of his chest plate dug in to his skin where the blow had landed, but he was uninjured. “Where is your leader?” he snarled, picking up an elf who had fallen in the blast. The elf just grunted and tried to twist away. “Leave this place. Go back to your own lands. Your plan is discovered. It will fail.” The elf sneered. “The Qun does not fail. All paths will lead back to it.” “Leave, or you will not be alive to see it.” The elf lunged for a dagger at his waist, others began to close in. Solas gave up and dropped him, the elf ossifying before he hit the ground with a clunk. More hurried to take his place, falling into stillness one after another. An eluvian stood open ahead. Something roared as Solas raced down the steps toward it. He glanced back. There was the dragon they’d been using to make the gaatlok. Chained and raging. The Viddasala’s voice rang out from the stairway. He looked up as she issued an order to kill him. But something caught her attention. He felt it tugging hard enough to be painful. The anchor was close. He made for the portcullis between the Inquisitor and himself, but was thrown back by a powerful barrier. The saarebas were among the soldiers. He needed a moment to regroup, to think— he could draw them away from the Inquisitor at the same time. He threw a flickering wave of Fade flame. It went wide but the soldiers flinched. They were emboldened by the miss, thought he was flagging and thought it their time to press the advantage. He turned to the eluvian and wrenched it into his control, sprinting through as he did. He emerged just a short distance from the shrine. In his own valley. Qunari tumbled through one after another, hesitating for an instant when they realized they were not where they expected. But Solas remained before them, and their orders had been clear. “You are not welcome here. Go home while you still may,” he shouted. A few faltered. But the large soldier in back smacked them with the flat of his sword. “Katara!” he shouted and they rushed for Solas again. He was disappointed but unsurprised. He’d given them ample opportunity to retreat. And reason enough to do so. For the Inquisitor’s sake, to prove that he wasn’t cruel. That he’d changed. Prove to her? Or to myself? he wondered, leading them farther toward the shrine. It hardly mattered. The experiment had failed. With the anchor threatening to overwhelm her and rip another abyss in the Veil, it was long past time to end this. He led them through the mirrors, lingering only long enough to be certain they realized where he had gone. He could hear the Viddasala shouting just before they reached the shrine and panic warred with grim satisfaction within him. Had she killed the Inquisitor? Or simply abandoned her for a greater quarry? He turned, stopped fleeing. “Stop,” he said simply, “I will allow you to trespass no farther.” A sea of roaring blades rushed toward him. He held up a hand, more as a signal, a warning, than true need. The first man was a statue. Then another. It did not stem the tide. The Viddasala’s shouts were shocked and desperate. It was a different thing, hearing tales of magic from the tongue of another and seeing your own men’s spirits ripped from their flesh before you. How well Solas had learned that lesson, long before the Qun. One by one, they all fell. The Viddasala stood staring at him from beyond the grove of statues that had once been her charge. “I warned you,” said Solas, “That the next time we met, I would not be kind. You should have left Anaris’s secrets where they lay. You should have abandoned this place.” “And I told you that you would need Fen’harel himself to stop us,” she snarled, pushing through the statues to reach them. “Ah,” said Solas, “At least one of us listened. For I am he. Go. Tell the Qun that Fen’harel has returned. And these lands are under my protection. Do not let them renew their assault.” He turned away from her confusion. He had more pressing matters than one Qunari. Her feet were heavy on the steps behind him. “You,” she cried, “Saarebas, you are why we are here.” He shook his head. “Ebasit kata. Itwa-ost.” “Maaras kata!” she shouted. He turned back to her. “Your forces have failed,” he tried to tell her, “Leave now, and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further.” It was his last attempt to warn her. He was unsurprised to hear the cry as she lifted her spear as he turned back toward the eluvian that would lead to Abelas and the others. A simple thought, and she was no more. He’d inform the others, tell them to make a sweep for those remaining and return to find— a splash behind him arrested the thought. And then— “Solas.” That voice. He closed his eyes for an instant as it rang in his ears. She was safe. He knew the expression she’d have when he turned, the naked happiness that would meet him. But the smile withered from his face as she cried out in pain and collapsed into the puddle at her feet. She looked up at him and shook her head. “Run, emma lath, I cannot hold it. Run!” Her body went rigid, arcing with the effort of maintaining a barrier around her, fighting against the anchor. It was a battle she was rapidly losing. His greaves clanged against the stone as he sank beside her. “Run,” she pleaded again. He clasped her marked hand and sapped the anchor’s magic as it lashed out with a crackle. “Do not fear for me, Vhenan,” he whispered, folding around her tightly. “It cannot harm me. And I can give us a little more time.” She sagged against him, her breath still ragged after the pain ebbed away. He waited until it smoothed before helping her rise again. “I thought the Qunari would hurt you,” she offered. “I wanted to help you, but—” she looked at the stone remains of the Viddasala. Her voice broke as she admitted, “but you’ve never needed me at all.” “That is not true, my love.” She shook her head. “How can it not be true? You’ve kept me in the dark for two years. Varric tried to tell me you were dead— I started to believe him. That maybe Mythal had harmed you. Two years and not a solitary word— if you knew how many I had tried to send to you— how hard I’ve looked for some way—” “I do,” he said quickly, touching the shard she had sent him. “I found them all.” He did not add that he had seen her, had spoken to her in sleep. Or that he had left his own memory for her to find. “Then why did you not respond? Why this way?” “Ir abelas, Vhenan. I believed this way was easier.” “Easier for who?” she cried, “For me? For you? I know you had to leave and why. I know I could not go with you. Not then. But never a word?” “I hoped, in time, you would find peace. Joy. I had no wish to interfere with that.” She laughed and it was bitter and small. “There is none for me. Have you found any?” “No.” She reached for him, her hand pressed to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It has never been your doing. I do need you, have needed you, every day. But I hoped your days were brighter than my own, these past months. You were doing so much— so many others needed you, what was one man’s wish compared to that? I could not return. If the others knew what I mean to do, they would not understand. Not even if I showed them what I have shown you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “The Inquisition turning against me was never unexpected. And hardly new. But to see them turn against you for my mistakes— I could not let it happen.” “They’ve seen your valley,” she said, her breath warm against his face, “Between the murals and the Qunari information, they will work it out. I cannot protect your secret any longer. I fear it is only Cole who kept them from following me here.” “I am stronger now, than the man they knew. Than the man you knew. I have no need of secrecy any longer. But I will not remain to provoke them.” “What?” she cried drawing back a step, “You’re not coming home?” “I have people that depend upon me. An army to hold back the Evanuris. I cannot bring them to Skyhold. Not without splitting our defenses to fend off those who should be our friends. I know what happened at the Council, Vhenan. I know they mean to take the Inquisition from you.” She flushed, ashamed and grieving. “The Inquisition died years ago. The Council is barely needed. I do not know half of my own forces any longer and the soldiers— they need to go home to their families. But Skyhold— you said it has been held with tiny groups before.” “So it has. But would you fight Cassandra when she came to take it from you and the monster she thought was trying to take the Maker’s place? Or Dorian when Tevinter forced him to address the ancient elf mage that threatened the world? That is what would happen if I were with you there.” She was quiet, turning to look back at the rippling eluvian behind her, where their friends waited. “If I must,” she admitted. “It is unnecessary. Skyhold is not the only place for my people. It is not the only place for you, either. Come with me, Vhenan. I crave you. I need you. Be with me at the end,” he pleaded. “But the Blight—” “I have a place to test your work, people to help us find the last parts of the formula. Indeed, they have already begun with the information you and Brosca have passed.” She shook her head. “It is not so simple. Your cure is almost complete, yes. But there are darkspawn beyond counting in the Deep Roads. Far below the dwarven kingdoms. When the Veil falls, the Forgotten Ones will have nothing to mute the Calling. The darkspawn will flood the world.” “I know,” he said. “I must find a way to stop them. To destroy them and give your people a chance to fight the Evanuris. A chance to save us. I cannot do that hidden away.” He shook his head. “Alas, you cannot do it anyhow, my heart. The mark— it will kill you. I can stem the magic for a time, it is why I drew you here. But it will return, despite me. You do not have time to—” “Would you place me among your own, then? A bomb to erupt in disaster for them all just to have me near? I cannot control it, Solas. I have tried. It escapes me, again and again.” To have you near, I would abandon all the world, he thought, but pressed it away. She would not have accepted that. “I will be there to hold it for you,” he said. He folded his hand around hers. “Come,” he begged. “I cannot,” she said. “Stay. There is always another way—” she broke off with a gasp as the anchor’s power welled painfully again. She gripped his hand as if she could hold him there. “I must take it,” he said gently, “We are running out of time.” “Please don’t. It is all that remains to me of you. It is all that I have left.” She curled into herself with a groan as another wave of agony overtook her. “Come with me. Forget your doubts. Forget the world and be happy in the time that remains. Keep me,” he said, catching her as her knees buckled. “Ar vena a vir. Var lath vir suledin,” she said, clenching her teeth. She sank against him. “I wish it could, Vhenan,” he answered, the spell already prickling from his fingertips into the flesh of her arm. “It will. I will find a way and then return to you. I swear it,” she cried. He pressed a kiss into her lips. She shook with hurt as his spell crept through her arm and the bone began dissolving. There was a shout from the eluvian and he broke away. It was time to leave. He caressed her cheek, her jaw, wishing he could feel it through the metal of his armor. “The way will always be open to you,” he whispered. “Ar lath ma.” What remained of her arm shattered beneath his hand. He rose and passed through the eluvian before his legs could betray him. One more spell, as Varric sped up the steps to find her. He watched Dorian lift her from the water and Cole stared through the mirror at him. The spell finished and the eluvian closed. Only she would be able to come here now. No other, not even his own agents would use this mirror. There was a hand upon his shoulder. He turned to see Ilan. “I’m sorry,” said the boy. “You’ve seen then,” he said. “Yes.” “And you believed I have no weakness,” he said. Ilan frowned. “This is not a weakness. I’m going to Skyhold.” “It will soon be abandoned,” said Solas. “She will not remain long, if you mean to desert me for her.” “I don’t mean to desert anyone,” said Ilan. “But I’m not going to let her struggle alone. She has some idea, some hope of stopping this.” “There is no other way,” he insisted. “If that were true, she would have given in. She would have returned with you. And you don’t believe it either. If you did, you would have left her the anchor when she asked.” “I don’t—” “I’m not asking your permission,” said Ilan. “I will return with her and a way to defeat the Blight or not at all. I will send words and—” he tugged on the shard around Solas’s wrist. “I think you should send them back this time. She will not give up on you. It would be needless suffering to leave her in silence.” Ilan walked away. Solas turned back to the still eluvian.

(yes, there is more coming)

#Solas #Lavellan #solas and lavellan #trespasser #dragon age inquisition

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