Chapter Five: Talk of Blights
"Are you all right? Say something... please..."
"Mmmm..."
"Well, that's a start, I guess." The tone was worried and whiny. She knew the voice as her only other friend in the tower.
"J-Jowan?" She heard him breathe a sigh of relief before she turned her head and lifted her eyelids. They fumbled lazily to remain open.
"I'm glad you're all right. A templar carried you in this morning. Are you... really all right though? What was it like?" Jowan asked.
He was excited and she knew this would come, but she was not prepared for this kind of questioning already. She groaned, gently moving her legs out of the bed and rising to her feet. She noticed that she was not in her nightgown, which was undoubtedly bloody, but she stood in her apprentice robes. The mage stood there wondering how that happened, a million questions rummaging through her brain for answers. This almost made her forget about Jowan, who was still standing in front of her, waiting expectantly. His velvety green apprentice robes swung to and fro as he shifted his weight back and forth. His face seemed oily and sweaty like he hadn't slept. His jaw was covered with stubble and his eyes were dark and tired.
"I... my Harrowing? It was, well,
harrowing. I'm sorry, I don't really know how to describe it," she lied plainly. She was a good liar and she thanked the Maker for that. "Are you all right? You don't look well, Jowan."
"You know, I could say the same about you. You've got a nasty fresh scar about your neck...That
definitely wasn't there yesterday. Well... I know I'm not supposed to know," he said in a mocking tone, his long black hair falling across his face. "But we're friends aren't we? I mean, you can tell me and I won't tell anyone. You know that. Just a little hint and I'll stop asking, I promise!"
"I... really shouldn't..." she said, taking a few steps backwards. She held one arm straight down and crossed the other over her midriff to grab her elbow. It was her embarrassed way of apologizing through body language.
"Hmph. So much for friendship," he said sourly while rolling his eyes. "And now you'll be moving to the nice mage quarters upstairs. Meanwhile I'm stuck here in the apprentice quarters. I have no idea when
my Harrowing is coming. That is... if it's coming at all."
"I'm sure it will any day now." She tried to comfort her friend, though she thought he was only being paranoid and somewhat depressing.
"You say that, but you know I've been here almost as long as you. I am older after all. But it doesn't matter, does it? You've gone through yours now... Sometimes I think they're just avoiding me, like they don't
want to test me." His tone sounded defeated as he frowned.
"You're just being paranoid, Jowan."
"No, I'm not. I'm afraid of what will happen. Wouldn't you be if you were in my shoes? You either do the Harrowing, the Right of Tranquility or you die. I don't want to die and I don't want to be made Tranquil. That's for sure. Tranquility is just as bad as being slain by the templars, maybe worse. You've seen Owain. He's Tranquil. He's so cold. There's nothing in him. It's like he's dead, but still walking. His voice, his eyes are lifeless..."
"They're not going to kill you," she responded as she rolled her eyes. "And I think you're reading too much into this. They'll test you when they believe you're ready, not when you think you are." She hoped her words would settle his uneasiness.
"I guess... Oh, I was supposed to tell you... Irving wants to see you. I was supposed to tell you as soon as you woke up but... well,
curiosity." He smiled, knowing that was all he needed to say. "You'd better not keep him waiting. We can talk more later, all right?"
With that Jowan walked away to his own mess of problems, leaving her to her own thoughts. He was a good friend, but sometimes his paranoia really got the better of him. She assumed that was why he was always sweating so much. He had once told her that "they" were always watching, that there were eyes everywhere. In a sense, she knew he was right. There was no place for hiding secrets at this tower. Not only were the mages terrible gossips, but the templars kept a close eye over every last one of them. Sometimes they even fed into the gossip and made things sound worse. She decided to start her journey to Irving's quarters. She moved slowly, giving herself time to think.
There were rumors that Irving had cast a powerful spell that would allow him to pick up on any conversation within the walls of the tower. Of course, that rumor was probably started by the mages. There was no validity to it, but still it was widely believed to be true. Even if it was not the truth, Lita knew that someone somewhere always saw something. That was how Greagoir found out about Cullen's...
infatuation with her and Lita's own developing returned interest in Cullen. People talked and sometimes that was all the proof the seniors needed to start snooping, like Greagoir for example.
There were hundreds of people here, both mages and templars. Everyone kept busy: training, practicing, extinguishing flames, diffusing problems, though it was never hectic. It was almost like a controlled chaos every day. The tower itself stood on a small island in the middle of a lake, peaking and pointing towards the skies. It was crowded here and she hated that. But it was the only life she had, for she knew no other. The templars had taken hold of her when she was a baby. She was raised by these strangers but assumed it was no different than being raised in a sort of orphanage with others like her. But then again, there were no other children like her. She was the only mage raised from birth to adulthood by the elders. At least in her experience, she was the only mage -that she knew of- whom the templars had taken straight from childbirth.
She was told that both her parents were mages in the tower. They were a part of the Circle, just like every mage here with her now. She did not know who they were, but she had been told that they died. Perhaps she was being protected from the truth or her parents were being protected from ridicule and shame. The thought occurred to her that mages were probably encouraged to lead a romantic life comparable to the templars, which meant having a nonexistent one. There were only mages and templars at the tower. The choice would seem easy: pair oneself with a mage—which was frowned upon, pair oneself with a templar—who are "celibate" and is definitely not encouraged, or do not engage in any romantic activity at all. However, a life without romance seemed so stupid to Lita. There was no risk but there was also nothing worth caring about. She wanted to feel love someday. What she had with Cullen was starting to grow into something beautiful in her heart, but it was not quite love yet.
'What do they expect mages to do? Just be stoic as if we are Tranquil? We have to give up so much. A little affection from the opposite gender would be nice... Is that too much for a girl to ask? Maybe they really do want to make us all Tranquil... Oh wow, listen to me. I'm starting to sound like Jowan.' She chuckled to herself.
Her thoughts lingered back to her parents. She did not know what the truth was behind their situation, but she hoped to find out one day. Rumors flew that her parents were evil blood mages. The thought made her blood run cold. It was as good an explanation as any but it was a horrifying one. Her elders always told her not to feel ostracized by her history in the tower. There had been others like her in the past, born of magi lineage from both sides of the family. Apparently that sort of thing was not really looked upon happily by anyone and it didn't really make her feel better to be one of them. It was because magic itself was powerful enough on its own and it was incredibly destructive when used in the wrong hands.
Magic was always seen as a curse, even if some said it was a gift. People were just afraid of the power. Lita had to admit that sometimes she wished she hadn't been bestowed with it at all, just to see what it was like. It was said that outside the tower, people hated mages for the magic inside of them. They weren't people out there, just
things that should not exist. The Circle tried to teach all of its mages that and prepare them, but it was so unfair. Lita did not want to accept that she was not a human being to most people in this world.
"Apprentice Amell? I heard about your Harrowing. They said you aced it. Congratulations." A faceless templar standing outside the First Enchanter's door broke her trance. She hated those helmets they wore. It was so hard to tell one templar from another. She supposed that was why Cullen stood out so much. He was never one much for wearing his helm.
"Thank you, templar," she replied thoughtlessly as she entered.
Greagoir was standing around with Irving, seemingly arguing about something. Another man was also there and he looked incredibly out of place. He had dark brown hair, which was tied back into a tiny ponytail and a beard that could only be described as "magnificent." It sculpted his face and seamlessly formed into a mustache around his upper lip. He was tan with a small golden hoop earring in his right ear. He looked like he lived outdoors, like a tough man. His armor was gray, red and black. There were fancy swirls and detailing upon his gray breastplate. A thick black strap cut across his chest, holding up the weapons at his backside: a longsword and a dagger. Under his armor, robes flowed out like the templars'. His robes were beige colored and a dark red. He looked very prestigious, if not like some sort of swashbuckling pirate from a story.
"... many have already gone to Ostagar –Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort-" Greagoir was cut off by Irving, who looked at him incredulously.
"Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"
"How dare you suggest-"
"Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you." The stranger cut in abruptly as he caught the young woman gaping at him. He raised an eyebrow at her suspiciously. All eyes turned in her direction. Never had she felt so awkward.
"Should I have... er,
knocked or something?"
"Ah, if it isn't our newest member of the Circle. Come child," Irving said as he motioned for her to step closer.
The stranger took a few steps towards her as she closed in on their group of three. Greagoir crossed his arms and glared at her with dark eyes as she approached. It seemed that last night was not a dream and he had not forgotten about anything. She avoided his gaze and kept her eyes on the stranger and Irving.
"Then this is...?" He seemed to be in awe. She was sure she had never met the man before but he seemed to know about her.
'
Why is he looking at me like that? Maker... they must have been talking about me...' she thought to herself nervously.
"Yes, this is she," Irving responded.
"Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later. I expect to see you as well, Lita," Greagoir said as politely as possible, with venom dripping off every word.
'I'm not poisoning your templar's pure thoughts,' she thought angrily as he left the room haughtily.
'Thanks for the welcome feelings, Greagoir. I knew you would be like this today. I really hope I'm not in trouble...' She wondered why she had been summoned as the First Enchanter's door shut behind Greagoir. It could not be so bad, could it?
"Of course. Well then... Where was I? Oh, yes. This is Duncan of the Grey Wardens. You heard about the war brewing in the South, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."
"Wynne's already there, along with Uldred and our senior mages." Lita stated. "I had no idea any of them were gone until I overheard you and Greagoir arguing... How long have they been gone?" She found her curiosity was branding strange looks from the two of them.
"Yes, well, they have been gone for a week or so now. Wynne left yesterday. Not many in the tower know this yet," Irving said, his eyebrows raised in sympathy. "I should not be surprised you did not know."
"With the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get, especially from the Circle. The power you mages wield is an asset to any army. Your spells are very effective against large groups of mindless darkspawn. I fear if we don't drive them back now, we will have another Blight on our hands," Duncan stated seriously.
The words struck fear in her heart. Blights recorded in history had a death toll of thousands of people, whether they were fighting against the darkspawn or fleeing from them. They were monstrous creatures, commanded by an archdemon which was supposed to be a large darkspawn dragon capable of killing hundreds of men in mere seconds. There were no pictures in the books she had read regarding the creature, but the graphic details were enough to paint a picture in her head of the destruction it caused and how terrifying it was. Irving and Duncan both saw the look of horror she had expressed upon recalling her readings. Duncan offered an apologetic look and Irving patted her on the shoulder.
"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for her." Irving smiled at the young mage.
"We live in troubled times, my friend," he responded sadly.
"We should seize moments of levity,
especially during troubled times," Irving explained. He kept his eyes upon Lita. "You have passed your Harrowing. It is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi."
He made all of it sound so pleasant. Well, at least there would be no more empty threats to demons about being a Circle Mage. Now it was true and they had every reason to fear her. However, her phylactery being sent to Denerim made it official. There was no running or even hopes of leaving this place. She was bound to the tower for her life. The choice was made for her and it felt disquieting.
"My phylactery... You mean my leash?" She managed to ask. This was one subject that was very touchy for her. She hadn't even been old enough to fight them if she wanted when they got a hold of her. How would she know if this is a life she wanted? But she supposed it was the only life. The life of a renegade mage, an apostate, was never a pleasant one. She just wanted a choice.
"Now child, it's not that bad." Irving laughed.
"I'm sorry. What is this phylactery?" Duncan asked confusedly. It was surprising to hear someone ask such a simple question. Lita had never met an outsider, so she had no idea that they knew so little of the mages here at the Circle.
"Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved is special vials."
"So they can be hunted if they turn apostate," Duncan said as he understood how it worked suddenly.
"We have little choice. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle the power we are given responsibly. You have done this, Lita Amell." Irving picked up a neatly folded Circle robe, a beautiful silver staff and a ring from his desk. He handed them to Lita. "I present you with your robes, your staff and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly for you have earned them."
"Thank you," she replied, bowing her head a little. She could not wait to utilize the staff and put on her new robes. The ring was pretty too. She slipped it onto her left ring finger and it slid off, almost falling to the floor. She caught it in her hand and put it on her left middle finger instead. It stayed comfortably there, bearing the Circle's crest for all to see.
'
Well if no one could tell I was a mage before...' She smiled to herself.
"So, what happens now? Do I learn better spells than freeze and bolt? How do I become a senior Circle Mage?" she asked eagerly. She knew the seniors had the privilege of leaving the tower every now and again. She wanted to see Ferelden, not just a lake. Duncan stifled a chuckle at her zealous ambition.
Irving laughed. "Patience, child. You have been through quite the ordeal. Let us not rush things. It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite."
"And with the templars?" she asked. Irving already knew about Cullen, it seemed. Why hide it?
"Should any templar have the time and you are secluded from apprentices who have not yet reached theirs, I don't foresee a problem. Though it is doubtful any would like to talk about such things," he added thoughtfully.
"I cannot imagine it is a pleasant experience for anyone," Duncan commented quietly. He seemed curious about why a mage would want to speak to templars.
"I just like to have to option to speak to someone about it," she replied.
"Someone you trust," Irving understood. "I imagine the person you have in mind was at your Harrowing. It is fine, but do not impede his duties. Now then... take your time to rest, or study in the library. The day is yours."
"But... Greagoir said-"
"Do not worry about Greagoir. He and I have much to discuss."
"I will return to my quarters, then," Duncan said.
"Would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his room, child?"
"Of course," she said with a smile.
"The guest quarters are on the east side of this floor, close to the library. Now if you'll both excuse me, I have matters to discuss with the templar captain."
Both Lita and Duncan nodded as Irving exited his quarters. Lita began to head for the guest quarters, with Duncan following behind her. She decided to go slowly so she could ask him questions.
"Thank you for walking with me. I am glad for the company," he said with a half-smile.
"Of course, Duncan. I am eager to ask you some things, if that's all right with you."
"Oh? What sorts of things, might you ask? I cannot imagine what I could know that would be so interesting." He was surprised. "I am a boring man."
"Well, I don't get out much. What's it like out there? Beyond Lake Calenhad, I mean? We are permitted to walk the grounds, but we cannot leave."
"Ah, thus you have a good view of the other side of the lake? It must feel rather isolated, way out here. I am not a good source of news or imagery, I fear. I am preoccupied with the darkspawn incursion. But Ferelden has its cities and towns, its farms and forests, its good and bad places. I have traveled much in my time. It is hard for me to imagine only knowing of one place."
"It's hard for me to imagine what else is out there," Lita admitted sheepishly. "I want to see it. That is, if the incoming Blight doesn't destroy everything. You came to the tower to recruit more mages, right? I thought Greagoir had mentioned that the Circle had sent most of its senior mages. Wasn't that what they were arguing about when I walked in?"
"It is not my place to comment..."
"I insist. I won't tell, I promise," she said with a grin. "Speak freely with me, please. I'm not sure what you've been told about me, but I am trustworthy at the very least."
Duncan seemed to consider her words with a chuckle. "Well then... Greagoir serves the Chantry, and the relationship between the Chantry and the mages has always been strained. You've realized by now that the Chantry merely tolerates magic? They only watch because they feel they must. Any mages who join the king's army can unleash their full power on the darkspawn. In fact, I'm counting on it. Greagoir may be afraid of what will happen. What if the mages decide they no longer want to be governed by the Chantry? I believe that we must defeat the darkspawn, one way or another. My opinions end there. I find it is best to remain neutral in such affairs."
"I wish I could," she responded enviously. "Unfortunately, I'm stuck in the middle of this mess. So... this darkspawn invasion... I've read books about them and the archdemon... Why do they always come back? Is there no way to permanently quell them? I thought all the darkspawn were destroyed in the last Blight... And the people caught in the last Blight probably said the same of the one that came before that."
Duncan nodded. "We can't seem to eradicate them completely. Somehow they always come back. They usually move around in small groups, but there are always more of them, lurking underground, biding their time. A horde was found in the Kocari Wilds to the south. If they are not stopped they will strike north, into the valley. We believe they are being lead by an archdemon, a dire situation indeed. I asked King Cailan's permission to come and seek a greater commitment from the Circle. Greagoir had said that the Circle sent most of its senior mages, but I was hoping to place a mage or two withing every contingent. I cannot do that with just seven. Mages will make all the difference in the upcoming battle. Darkspawn have their own magic and our resources must exceed their own. Mages heal. They can call fire and ice down upon the enemy. And... so much more."
"Seven? But we must have at least forty senior mages by now. Surely... Every mage in Ferelden is sent to the tower or killed for being an apostate. There are hundreds of us here," she said in confusion. She laughed. "It's quite crowded actually. I wouldn't mind shortening the numbers around here. Maybe I'll get some privacy, peace and quiet."
"So you see why we ask for more aid," he said. He seemed to be relieved someone could understand his reasoning. They were finally coming upon Duncan's room.
"Do you... think
I could join the army? It would certainly get me out of this tower."
"I don't know. Do you?" Duncan was very good at remaining neutral.
"I think I would be capable enough. Though I doubt I'd be allowed..." she reasoned.
"That's a shame. I sometimes wonder if the Chantry's many laws regarding magic are necessary," he said, shaking his head as they walked into his room. It was well lit and spacious, like many of the rooms on this floor. She found herself surprised that the neutral warden would bring up such a controversial point.
"Darkspawn are a greater threat than blood mages or even abominations," he continued. "It takes decades for the world to recover from a Blight. I wish the Chantry could see that. We must stop at nothing to defeat the darkspawn- Ah, listen to me. An old man's rantings can't be very interesting."
"Nonsense. I asked. And I have learned much from what you have told me," Lita responded politely.
"You are too kind. Though I should let you go about your day now. Congratulations on completing your Harrowing, Lita Amell."
"Thank you, Duncan. I hope you enjoy your stay here. Hopefully I shall see you again before you return to Ostagar. Goodbye for now."
They nodded at each other and she left him to his privacy. She looked to her left and saw a lone templar down the hall. He was unmasked. She found that she was forcing herself to keep a normal pace as she headed toward him. All she could think of was his embrace and telling him how happy she was to have survived the night. She felt her pace quicken the more she thought about it. She hugged her new staff and robes close to her chest, wishing she had them equipped already. She wanted him to see her in something new and smiled at the thought.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place, ripping her from her thoughts and quest for the man. She jumped in surprise and turned around to see Jowan's worried face.
"I have to talk to you about something. Something important," he said desperately. His face seemed sweatier than usual and his eyes were full of fear.
Lita looked back and forth between Jowan's concerned face and her robes indecisively. Finally, she settled on his face. "What's wrong?"
