Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

by Patrick Weekes

  The deck was strangely silent. The first lucky break of the day—we’d come during shift change. Or they didn’t think anyone would be dumb enough to try and steal a Qunari dreadnought. Showed what they knew.

  We worked quickly. I raised the anchor and Irian rigged the ship to leave the harbor. Dock seventeen’s isolation worked to our benefit, as no one questioned why a human and an elf were readying a Qunari dreadnought for travel. Through it all, we were keenly aware of the growing hum as beneath us, Dumat’s Folly prepared its final act.

  Finally, we were ready. I took a deep breath and let my magic fill me. Irian went belowdecks, ensuring that we were, in fact, alone on the vessel. No sense getting this far and then catching a spear in the gut.

  I channeled all my anger, my guilt, my refusal to lay down and die, through me, through my staff, and into the air. The sails fluttered gently, settled, and then filled. With a jerk, the ship began to move, spurred on by the magical wind. I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was working.

  An arrow flashed past me, thudding into the mast in front of me. I lost focus. The gale turned into a breeze, the boat slowing down. Stopping. I turned to see five elves, wearing Qunari armor. As I watched, a sixth climbed over the edge. Shit. I guess someone had been paying attention. Five of them wielded javelins. The one who’d fired the arrow nocked another, aimed it directly at me. I raised my hands.

  The haft of a spear cracked him on the side of the head. He tumbled to the ground. On either side of him, the other five turned. Irian. She stood behind them, soaked through from the sea, a smirk on her lips. I knew that expression. She settled into a combat stance and raised a hand. Beckoned the Qunari.

  Two of them leapt forward, one going high while the other went low. She batted away one strike, leapt over the other, and drove a knee into a gut. The guard collapsed. A third one stabbed his spear down, trying to catch her on the tip, but she grabbed the haft and used her momentum to swing up, her booted feet coming up and into her opponent’s nose. There was a crack, audible across the ship, and a spray of blood as he stumbled backward. Down.

  The first guard she’d dodged had drawn a pair of daggers and stabbed at her unprotected back. But she’d anticipated the move. With a grace and agility that reminded me I was lucky to have won even a tenth of our sparring matches, she leapt straight up, catching hold of the trailing lines of the sail, and tucked her knees beneath her, the weapons scything by just below her. She dropped down on top of the other elf’s shoulders, and with a twisting motion of her hips sent him flying toward the deck, where he impacted with a crunch, his daggers clattering to the deck.

  The other two guards were more cautious. They had their spears out, pointed directly at her, circling her. She was slowly backing away, but she was running out of deck. They had her cornered. One jabbed his spear at her and she caught the blow on the haft of her own spear, but it broke in half. A second guard swiped at her, and the blade caught her on the arm, drawing blood. She hissed. The first one raised his weapon, ready to strike again. To finish it.

  It was the opening I’d been waiting for. I channeled energy through my staff again. It reached out from its tip, into the skies. Lightning answered, and crashed down, into the tip of the javelin that the first guard carried. The blast sent him and his companion flying, tumbling across the deck, before they slammed up against the side.

  I took a breath. Let it out. All six Qunari elves lay unconscious. Irian stood, already tearing cloth from her tunic to form a makeshift bandage for her wound.

  “We can’t leave them here.” She was right. They’d done their job, nothing more. They didn’t deserve to die for that. I looked around. There, bracketing the ship—two lifeboats. I looked her in the eyes, nodded at the closest one.

  She got it immediately. We worked quickly, and soon, all six guards had been loaded in the lifeboat. But there was still one more person that needed to be there.

  I pointed at Irian. At the lifeboat.

  “You, too.” My voice was shaky. “This is my mistake, Irian. You don’t need to die for it.”

  She snorted.

  “You and your martyr complex. Can you keep the wind up and steer the boat at the same time?”

  “I just need to go straight. And out to sea as far as possible. I don’t need to steer for that.” We didn’t have time for this argument.

  “What happens if you catch a wave? Run into another ship? Or the wind—the real wind, I mean—picks up?” Dammit. She had a point. “You can’t do this without me. We’re a team, aren’t we? Isn’t that what you’ve always said?”

  Using my own words against me. But she was right. I couldn’t do it alone. Too many things could go wrong. I needed her help.

  I started to speak, to thank her. She held up a hand.

  “We can talk after.” The cheer in her voice was forced. But I appreciated that she’d tried.

  She ran past me toward the front of the ship, taking the steps up two at a time.

  I settled onto the deck, cross-legged, my staff laying across my legs, and took a deep breath. Found my center, and began to pour energy through my staff, into the air. In front of me, Irian stood, her expression defiant, hands tight on the ship’s wheel.

  The wind picked up again, even heavier than before. The sails filled, and the ship flew forward. I was glad I was already sitting down—as it was, Irian barely kept her balance. We were off. Behind us, I was dimly aware of shouting, of the sound of horns. But it was too late. We were gone.

  The air whipped by us. Irian kept the wheel steady, our course straight. Behind us, Kont-aar receded. The hum of magical energy was louder now, vibrating through the wood of the ship itself. Fatigue started to creep into my limbs—into my thoughts. I could feel the wind slackening. Released the enchantment. It’d have to do. I climbed to my feet, almost falling over. Irian came over, steadied me. I held her hand tightly. Didn’t let go.

  I looked back. We’d gone farther than I realized—a good four miles outside of Kont-aar. I didn’t know if it was far enough. Not like we had a lot of choice. Below us, the thrum of magic had taken on a keening edge. Flames, edged with red, were licking at the deck now, centered on where I knew the artifact sat. The heat was almost unbearable, the sound even more so. End game, then.

  I pulled Irian close. She was crying—her tears mixing with the salt spray on my robe. I held her tightly, my own eyes watering. Dammit. It wasn’t fair.

  “I just wish—” I stopped. I didn’t know what to say. Whatever it was, it would never be enough. Not even close. She looked up, met my gaze.

  “I know,” she said. She smiled, then, a real smile. “At least we get to do this together.”

  I looked around. I’d always expected to meet my end in some alley in Minrathous. Not on the deck of a Qunari dreadnought. My eyes fell on the lifeboat. Seemed cruel—no way we’d ever outrow the blast.

  I looked at my staff. Looked at the lifeboat. Oh, shit.

  “I’m not giving up yet,” I muttered. I grabbed Irian’s hand, pulled her with me toward the lifeboat.

  She eyed it, her expression of despair unchanging. “We have minutes, maybe. We can’t row fast enough to get to shore in time—not with only two of us at the oars.”

  I grinned. “Who said anything about rowing?” Held up my staff.

  She got it. Shook her head, laughing. “You’re crazy.”

  “Slim hope’s better than none, right?”

  I grabbed a coil of rope from the deck, heaved it on board, and started tying knots as quickly as I could. Irian frowned but took her cue from me. After a dozen heartbeats, I looked at our handiwork. A half-dozen lines were tied to the oar hooks, crisscrossing the boat. Had to hope it was enough.

  We climbed in, and Irian cut the lines that held the lifeboat on the ship. It dropped twenty feet into the water, landing with a splash. I slipped the loose coils around myself and Irian, and we tied them tightly. As tightly as I dared—they needed enough give to keep us on the lifeboat without tearing us l
imb from limb.

  I took a deep breath. Irian squeezed my hand, tightly. I squeezed back, let out the breath I’d been holding. Pointed my staff toward the stern of the lifeboat, toward the water. Had to hope this worked.

  I drew in all the energy I had left, every scrap I could manage, channeling it through my body, through the staff. A cone of force erupted forth into the water, and the lifeboat rocketed forward with a jolt.

  I was dimly aware of Irian laughing wildly as spray rocketed up in front of us, drenching us. I didn’t look, didn’t dare turn my attention from the magic in front of me. I fed every frustration, every emotion I could into the spell, and I could feel the boat skipping over the waves, moving faster than I would’ve ever expected. We bounced up once, twice, more times than I could count, but the ropes held, kept us from going overboard.

  The dreadnought was receding, the reddish glow at its heart growing smaller and smaller. I risked a look behind me and realized we were almost at shore. I let the spell drop, let the energy fade out.

  The lifeboat continued accelerating toward the shore. Shit. I tried to turn, to project the force in the other direction, to slow down, but the ropes—the same harness that had kept us from going overboard—now got in my way. The shore got closer. Irian started frantically cutting ropes, freeing us both, but it was too late. We sailed out of the water and up, over the beach.

  I channeled the last of my strength into a shield, a sphere surrounding us both. Hoping it would be enough. I grabbed Irian and leapt, hugging her tightly to me, praying to any divine being that could hear me that it would be enough, that I hadn’t just doomed us.

  We slammed into the beach, sparks flying up where my shield hit the ground. The force of our impact sent sand flying up into the air, our sphere digging deep furrows. We bounced once, twice, jostling within the magical orb, but it still held. Finally, we slid to a stop. I waited a moment and then let the shield drop. I staggered to my feet, looked out at the water.

  I thought I could see the dreadnought, the burning deck a distant speck on the horizon. A moment passed. Another. And suddenly, a flash of light, a second sun on the horizon. The Dumat’s Folly. Every ounce of magic it could drain from the ship, released in a single, cataclysmic blast. And just behind the light, a shockwave. The waves rising, cresting.

  The sound came next. It was the roar of a hundred dragons, the crash of a thousand avalanches. It filled the world and, dimly, I could hear glass shattering farther up the shore, in the town. And immediately behind it, a wall of water. We were hundreds of feet inland, close to the town, but it still drenched us, soaking us to the bone. I didn’t care. I welcomed the cold. The cold meant we were alive.

  I kissed Irian, deeply, and she returned it, leaned into it. I reveled in the feeling of her—of her warm, soft lips on my own, of the taste of salt. I pulled her tighter, closer. Living in the moment. The wind whipped at our hair, at our clothes, as the waves continued to crash just below us. Dimly, I heard the sound of shouting, of booted feet running.

  Then the feeling of rough hands grabbing us by the shoulders. Hauling us to our feet, pulling us apart. They spun us around, surrounding us, marching us forward. Away from the false sun on the horizon, and toward town.

  * * *

  They brought us to a tavern. It was empty except for us, two guards, and a tall elf with dark hair, wearing the simple brown leather of the Qunari. He sat at a table, his expression unreadable. I returned the look and sat down across from him. Beside me, refusing to sit, Irian stood, arms crossed, her own expression remote.

  “Tell me what you know.” I recognized his voice—the one who’d been called Gatt. His tone was quiet, calm, but something else—urgency, maybe—colored his words. I leaned back. I was tired. More than tired, I was exhausted.

  “That elf—she got to Dumat’s Folly first. Hid it, replaced it with the weapon that destroyed your ship. Then you stole it. The weapon, I mean.” I shrugged. “I’m guessing someone hired you to do it?”

  “The Ben-Hassrath do not work for hire.” He stated the words calmly, matter-of-factly. Then he sighed. “However, that is not to say that we cannot be persuaded in other ways. One of our agents spoke of Dumat’s Folly. Suggested it was an artifact of great power and danger, integral to Fen’Harel’s plans.” He waved his hand irritably. “We captured him, planned to interrogate him, but he killed himself first, rather than be questioned.”

  “Lots of that going around,” I muttered.

  “Why bring it here, then?” Irian asked. A good question.

  “The vessel it was on. It is—sorry, was called the Darvaarad. A Qunari word that means—‘magical isolation’ is the closest in your language. It was where we studied magical energies. To better understand you and your kind. Once it was a fortress, but its walls proved ineffective. This time, we felt it would be safer if it simply kept moving, using speed and secrecy instead of fortifications.” His voice turned wry. “Clearly, we were mistaken.”

  He leaned back. “The greater question, I think, is why hire you? Why not simply find the artifact herself?”

  “Opportunity.” I said the word slowly. Gatt looked at me curiously. “I don’t doubt we helped her track you down, but that wasn’t the real prize. Not for her. A Tevinter altus, striking at a Qunari settlement that had yet to enter hostilities? Ben-Hassrath wouldn’t be able to sit the war out anymore. Hell, it might even bring Rivain in—and who knows who else. Utter and complete chaos.” I felt nauseous. What I’d almost done, almost been responsible for.

  He nodded. “There is little chance that we would not have struck back, and struck back hard. Any thought of peace would have vanished. Our people would have settled for nothing less than the total destruction of Tevinter.”

  I let my head fall into my hands. Irian had been right. I’d let my pride blind me—hadn’t paused a moment to think about what I was doing. And it had almost cost me—cost the world—everything. The weight of my own foolish decisions was suffocating.

  “But that’s not what happened,” Gatt said quietly. “You risked your lives. You saved Kont-aar—and more than that, you saved my people. You could have left my six to die, but you went out of your way to spare them.”

  I shrugged, embarrassed. “You would’ve done the same.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But either way, just as it would have been hard to deny Tevinter’s antagonism had the plan succeeded, it becomes equally difficult to deny that Tevinter saved us today.” He smirked. “I can think of a half-dozen elves who will happily spread that tale.”

  I snorted. “Hate to break it to you, but most of my people still want to see you dead. A Qunari is a Qunari is a Qunari.”

  “A truth with us, as well, I’m afraid. The Antaam will still agitate for us to move against you more openly. But we can blunt their strike. The Ben-Hassrath will remain officially neutral. More important, free to act against the true threat. And with our allies standing next to us.” The last was almost a question. He looked at me expectantly.

  I hated to disappoint him. And the truth was, I was tempted. But I shook my head.

  “Look. I’m happy I didn’t start a war. Even happier that I didn’t let some egomaniacal elf trick me into starting one. And I’d like to help … but right now, I just want to go home.”

  “You cannot.” He held up a hand to forestall my explosion of anger. “I do not deny your wish. If you want to travel back to Minrathous, I will help you find passage. But you are now known to Fen’Harel. He has eyes everywhere. Inside Tevinter, without a doubt.”

  “So where should we go?” Irian asked quietly. She had moved closer, and was standing directly beside me. I put an arm around her waist, pulled her closer. She leaned her head on my shoulder. Gatt studied us for a moment, contemplating, and then spoke.

  “You cannot stay with us. Nor, I imagine, would you want to. But we have other allies. A dwarf in Kirkwall. He will want to hear what you have to say about the enemy. And more than that, he will have work for you. Someth
ing more than survival—a chance to strike back. A chance to matter.”

  I thought about it. Thought about never going back to Minrathous. About spending the rest of my life on the run, waiting for a dagger in the back, an arrow in the night. I chuckled. It didn’t sound much different from life in the Imperium, to be honest.

  Besides. I looked up at Irian. She smiled at me. My home wasn’t about things, or a place. It was wherever she was. That was the decision I’d made all those years ago, and it was one I had never regretted. Not for a minute.

  I sighed. Reached out my hand. Gatt took it, and we shook.

  But there was still unfinished business.

  “We’ll go to Kirkwall. Eventually.” I looked at Irian again and my smile widened. “But first, any chance we can go to Val Royeaux?”

  THE DREAD WOLF TAKE YOU

  PATRICK WEEKES

  The building sat hunched near the docks of Hunter Fell as though hoping not to be noticed. A hornless Qunari stood at the door, dressed in a dark samite suit and carrying a mahogany walking stick whose head was a dragon’s skull carved from lazurite. The cut of his clothes and the scars on his hands sent a clear warning that sailors looking for a cheap drink should look elsewhere. A sign over the door had no picture but read, simply, THE TEAHOUSE.

  Inside, the teahouse was dimly lit and conspicuously quiet. It was a place where a hood pulled up could hide a face, where whispers were worth more than gold. Candlelight flickered in smoked-glass lamps, shedding just enough light for a keen-eyed servant to find their way across the thick stained planks that lined the floor. There were no common tables, merely a bar and a number of wide booths, each blocked off from the room by heavy velvet curtains woven through with lyrium and enchanted to prevent any sound from escaping the booth.

  The elf currently known as Charter nodded to the Qunari doorman as she stepped inside. He stared down at her, quick movements of his eyes showing that he saw at least some of the daggers hidden beneath her simple cloak and traveling clothes.