IdeasGuy
patreon
From the Ashes: Flash Fire (ch. 8)
🕑 Added 2022-10-01 15:05:35 +0000 UTCA heads up -- Gacha God will be going live sometime this month. The reaction to this story has been a bit more than I anticipated, so rather than putting it on ice, I'll be continuing it up to a certain point. From the Ashes will become a bi-weekly story updated on Friday or Sunday, up until I reach a natural stopping point. The story would return when the next section is completed. This is mostly because writing six active stories at the same time in addition to my other side projects is... a bit much.
...
The fortress was less a fortress and more what I imagined a villa to look like. It was as pretty as a painting, situated upon a high cliff that gave it a great view of the Hinterlands and Lake Calenhad. The view really was stunning, and the thought of living all the way up here, while lonely, seemed impressive. However, the villa itself looked like it hadn't been properly maintained in a very long time. The white marble stone walls -- an odd choice given that every other stone was granite as far as I could tell -- were filthy and overgrown with vines where they weren't crumbling. There was a wrought iron gate that had fallen off and the steps were carved into the cliff that it was sat on.
The blue tiling and decorations were in a similar state of disrepair. While the villa wasn't crumbling, it was in desperate need of a cleaning and the elements hadn’t been kind to it. Nor had its current inhabitants.
“Lowlanders built the fortress a century ago,” Svarah informed me in a low whisper as we overlooked the villa, spotting the men and women gathered in a central courtyard. The villa itself was shaped like a blocky U with the single point of entry being the gate. “The Red-Lion hold took it from them after they were done to turn it into their hold, but found it not to their liking and left. The Lowlanders never came back for it.”
A century ago… “Orlesians,” I muttered, thinking it made perfect sense. They occupied the country for about a century before King Maric lead a rebellion that booted them out of it. I’ve never met an Orlesian myself, but from what I heard, building a villa in the middle of nowhere was perfectly in line with their nobility. The act of spending money was far more important than what the money was spent on to them.
“Hm. Them, we know. They found great sport in hunting us. And we found great joy in killing them,” Svarah informed with a chuckle. It quickly trailed off as we counted out the men and women that we could see that were huddling around a a fire in the middle of the courtyard, burning in what was left of a ruined fountain. There were twenty of them, a fairly even split between avvar and people that clearly weren’t.
They were wearing armor, so my first instinct was to say that they were knights since they clearly weren’t members of the Guard, but armor alone didn’t make knights. From what I gathered, the people down there were capturing avvar. Which made them slavers. The fact that they were human was just icing on the cake when it came for reasons to kill them.
“What say you, Azoth?” She asked me and I really considered my options. I really, really considered them because I had never been in a straight-up fight before. If this became a battle, then I would die.
“I need to get in and free the prisoners first. That way, it’s not the two of us against twenty,” I voiced, and from the sound that Svarah made, I was forced to tack on, “At least.” For all we knew, there were many more enemies inside.
“My people will be cut down without weapons,” she voiced, and that was true. But that wasn’t a terrible hurdle.
“I can fit an armory in my backpack,” I told her, making her blink in surprise and I was surprised that she just seemed to accept it. “I find the armory, then your people, arm them, and kick start the fight while they’re not expecting it. All while remaining undetected without triggering an alarm.” I said, mostly to myself.
Svarah nodded, liking the plan. “What shall I do in the mean time?” She asked and I knew she wouldn’t stay idle without reason.
“If I mess up and trip an alarm, I’m going to try to lure them away as much as I can. That’ll be your chance to get in, save your people-”
“And rescue you,” she decided, giving me a firm nod. I decided to return it and not mention that I intended to Mold Earth the ground, make a hole for myself, and try to get away below ground. In any case, it was a plan and I needed to figure out how to pull it off. To that end, I considered everything at my disposal.
In terms of spells, I had quite a few to use -- Dancing Lights, Mold Earth, True Strike, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation, Mage Hand, Mending, Control Flame, and Create Bonfire. For stronger spells, I had Earth Fist… and that was it. With Healing, I had Heal and Rejuvenation. As a Druid, I had Goodberry, Talk With Animals, and Entangle -- which would only work if there were roots or vines available. And that was it. For now. The knowledge of Gaxkang was still settling. If I had made that list before, Control Flame wouldn’t have been on it.
True Strike would help with fighting, and I could create natural fires with Bonfire, but those were the two spells I had that would aid me in a fight. Minor Illusion would help some, but if I was using minor illusion, then I was probably already dead.
Reaching into my pack, I pulled out one of the tomes -- This one was written in elvish as well. However, while the other elvish tome outlined the Druid arts, this one was far more… cunning. It detailed spells known to the Arcane Trickster.
Blooming Blade, Disguise Self, Distort Value, Invisibility, Shadow Blade, Mirror Image, Pass Without a Trace, Phantasmal Force, Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, and more. Three days was hardly time to master everything the tome detailed, especially later spells like Weird. However, after three days of marching our way here, I did pick out two spells that I thought would help the most. Pass Without a Trace and Invisibility. The latter would make me invisible to the naked eye, but the former would eliminate things like smells, or signs of footprints in the snow that would give me away even with invisibility.
They were a very potent combination and I intended to use them both to sneak in. I really wished that I could read the third tome, but I needed a teacher in Qunlat before I could learn from it. I could only guess what it contained.
I paused after taking out the Keening Blade and shoving the tomes back in my backpack. I met the gaze of Svarah, who seemed rather puzzled about how I managed to fit the sword in a rather small pack, but it proved that I could fit an armory in there. “If I die, I want you to take these to the Dalish Clan. They’re not that far from where we found you. Odds are, they’ll spot you before you see them.”
Svarah nodded, her expression grave. “You have my word, Azoth.” She spoke seriously and grimly. She might be a human, but I found myself trusting that she would see the task through. From the sound of it, even if it would mean her death, she would see the backpack and tomes delivered.
I nodded, feeling relieved that the tomes wouldn’t rot away with me. Leaving them behind with her, I gathered magic around my fingertips and closed my eyes. It wasn’t the first time I cast either spell -- I did get some practice when Svarah was asleep, but it was the first time I stacked them. I felt the change come over me as I suddenly couldn’t hear the snow crunching underfoot when I shifted, I couldn’t smell the fur or leather I was wearing, nor did I see fog when I exhaled.
“Azoth?” Svarah uttered, shocked. She waved an arm where I was, smacking me in the arm. “Oh, you’re still here. You are a mage, then? The auger of your clan?” She questioned and I had no idea what an auger was, but I was surprised that she was taking the news so well. It seemed that magic was only shunned in the cities. Or where the Chantry had deep roots. If I had known that before, I would have run to the hills at a much earlier age.
“I’m leaving now. You’ll know when it starts,” I told her, not answering her question before I began to make my way down to the staircase that led up to the villa. I shimmied my way down before soundlessly approaching the gate -- both spells would last for as long as I supplied mana to them, so there was little risk in them failing, but maintaining them was a delicate balance.
I heard the two groups talking, a clear divide between them. The avvar -- the Stormbreakers -- were huddled together amongst themselves while the slavers were the same way on the opposite side of the fire. I half expected someone to spot me despite my invisibility, but even as I openly walked through the gate, no one looked my way. This close, however, I was able to hear what they were saying as I looked for an easy entrance.
“Why are we all they up here at the ass-end of the world? What do the Imperium want with hairy, stinking barbarians?” One man muttered amongst his compatriots and my eyes narrowed at the mention of the Tiventer Imperium. The nation that destroyed the elven empire and for thousands of years, enslaved my people.
“Andraste was a barbarian too, you know. Maybe it tickles them pink to enslave her people? Maybe they need ‘em for their blood magic? I don’t care. They’re paying good gold for ‘em,” I heard another say as I walked by them, noting their weapons -- swords, axes, and a few spears. They had them on them, but no one was looking for a fight even if they were prepared for one.
The words made one man seem distressed, “Oi, don’t go making me think about that. We could be selling the second comin’ of Andraste,” he voiced, a deep frown on his face.
That got a few laughs. “That lot is no more Andraste than I am!” One remarked before another continued with, “I stepped into the cellar and just about got knocked out by the smell alone!”
I ventured past them, filling the information away as I headed closer to the avvar. Like the slavers, they were conversing quietly amongst themselves. “Don’t invite weakness. They’ll take us as quickly as they will the Stone-Bear tribesmen,” A large man with a bare chest despite the cold muttered quietly, his body a tapestry of tattoos that I couldn’t decipher.
“Surkesh hasn’t returned yet,” another noted, and I’m guessing that was the name of the man that I killed. The tribe seemed disquieted by his loss and I noted that as well. All the while, I searched the villa for an easy entrance, but short of climbing up upon the balcony of the second story, I would have to use the front door. I ventured closer to it, inspecting the hinges to see if they would squeak if I tried to open it.
Instead, I was nearly hit in the face by the door when it suddenly was thrown open and a tall figure stepped out. Another avvar, from the looks of it, with blood-red hair and a beard that went down to his chest. He was carrying a huge mallet as he strode by, resting it on his shoulder, and it was big enough to crush me if he hit me with it. I quickly stepped inside the villa to see that the interior was as poor as the outside.
The villa opened up into a large banquet hall. I think. I’ve never seen a banquet hall before, but it's what I imagined one would look like -- a long wide-open room with a curled staircase that ran along the walls that led to the second and third stories. It had been a lavish place once, but it had been ravaged by time, barbarians, and bandits it would seem. Fine furniture was broken up over time to make fires, the tapestries were faded and moth-eaten, and cobwebs and mildew grew in the corners and walls.
I saw another ten people -- three avvar and seven slavers that were standing on opposite ends of the all. Another avvar was walking down the halls, a wine bottle in hand and he passed me by without a glance. So far, I counted thirty one enemies. And that number slowly increased as I explored the villa, not daring to open any doors, but those that I peaked into either had one or three men on the other side of them. Every one of them was tense, eyeing the other group with suspicion, and I could feel the tension in the villa.
As far as I could tell, there were sixty-three avvar and slavers inside the villa. Possibly more. I didn’t know how many were behind closed doors, nor did I know how many of the Stone-Bear tribe there were. And despite my hopes, I didn’t see an armory of any kind. Instead, everyone seemed to be holding their weapons and ready for a fight and inevitable betrayal.
Which meant I had to think of something else. The answer presented itself upon a silver platter when one avvar shoved a slaver when they were walking down the same hallway, neither willing to step out of the each other's way. I watched the interaction and how they glowered at one another.
I knew what I had to do.
I ventured back down into the main hall and I was forced to drop Pass Without a Trace. Magic hummed around my fingers as I cast Minor Illusion in the hallway. On the floor, I created the illusion of a body of a slaver crumpled on the ground with an avvar standing over him. The red-headed one I had seen with the slaver’s head crushed on the ground like a mellon stuck with a hammer. With the same illusion, I made a voice that I heard scream out, “They’re attacking! We’ve been betrayed!”
The men outside and inside immediately responded, but not with violence at first. Both slavers and avvar sprinted to the sound to see the body. I watched their faces and I spotted some confusion or doubt in them, but while some had reservations, those that believed what was happening didn’t hesitate to act. I watched as the shock quickly faded and the battle erupted in the hallways.
“I knew it! Liars and thieves! Kill them all!” I had the illusion shout in an avvar voice, making the avvar think that they had been the ones attacked. The battle began and I watched as the halls of the villa were painted red with blood and throughout the villa, carnage took place. The slavers and avvar broke out of their rooms, spotting their enemies, and battling one another.
I passed by them, dropping the illusion because it was no longer needed, and made my way towards the kitchens. The avvar in the hall were slain, and the slavers that remained were fighting avvar that poured from the upper floors. I think I had been overly optimistic with how many avvar and slavers there were because they just seemed to pour from hidden corners of the villa. They were even fighting in the kitchen, leaving me to open the cellar door without notice.
The slavers had been right about one thing -- the stench was horrid enough that it made my eyes water the moment that I opened the doors. It was to be expected, I supposed, when there were half a hundred men and women sitting in the cellar in their own filth with their hands bound. All of them looked unwashed, and they looked up at the opening doors with defiance, then confusion when they didn’t see anyone coming down before the doors closed. I waited until I was at the bottom of the stairs to drop my invisibility.
That got a few stunned shouts of surprise, but they quickly settled down when I put my finger to my lips.
“Pointed one, what is happening up there?” A man asked me and I thought he looked a lot like Svarah.
“I tricked the slavers and the Stormbreakers into fighting each other,” I answered, using Keening Blade to cut through the rough ropes and he rubbed his wrists. I saw that they were red and bleeding. “Svarah found me and brought me here to help you. I don’t have weapons for you to use though,” I told them, cutting through another’s bindings.
From what I gathered, they didn’t overly care. Those that were freed immediately began untying the others and within minutes, everyone in the cellar was standing on their feet, glad for it after a week of being forced to sit.
“You’ve done us a great favor, pointed one. We will see it repaid,” the man I first freed -- Sturvurkur -- told me, offering a hand for me to shake. I looked down at it for a moment, not entirely comfortable shaking hands with a human, but as far as I knew, these people hadn’t earned my hate. I clasped it and said nothing before I led the way up the stairs. I pushed open the cellar doors with a little difficulty because one of the slavers had died upon them. Shoving them open, I saw an avvar man open his mouth to shout, only to be silenced when I thrusted the Keening Blade into his throat.
I had completely underestimated how fast and intense battles could be, I learned as the Stone-Bear clan was led out of the cellars, helping themselves to the weapons of the dead. The banquet hall was filled with corpses, as were the hallways, but the battle still waged outside in the courtyard and throughout the villa. The Stone-Bear tribe were quick to rush out to join the fray, claiming vengeance for their imprisonment.
I joined them, though at a far more subdued pace. A slaver spotted me, thinking I was the weakest and he sprinted towards me from down the hall, a mace and shield in his hands. I thought I would be more afraid when I turned to face him, casting True Strike upon the Keening Blade. It would be the first time I fought in an actual fight, up close and personal. But, my heart barely skipped a beat.
This human, I decided, I hated. I gripped my sword with white knuckles, a snarl tugging at my face as hate welled up inside of me. This human was a slaver. He captured half a hundred people and locked them in a cellar to stew in their own filth before he was going to sell them to the empire that had enslaved my people. There was no hesitation in my mind. I wanted to kill him. And I wanted him to die screaming.
The human lashed out at me, trying to brain me with the mace while trying to shoulder-check me with the shield. I met him head-on, casting Minor Illusion to seem like I was going to slash at his neck when I really attacked his wrist. I saw the confusion in his eyes when he saw the third arm appear out of nowhere, his shield easily passing through the illusion when he went to block. The Keening Blade cut through his wrist like it was barely there. Cold steam rose from the stump at his wrist, his hand and mace clattering to the ground.
I was lucky he wasn’t wearing armor. Too cold in this weather, I imagine. For that same reason, I was able to slash at his thighs, cutting deeply, but not through the bone. The man fell to the ground, screaming in pain. A snarl of a smile pulled at the edges of my lips, the sound was music to my ears. If my family could see me at this moment, I don’t think they would recognize me. I barely recognized me.
“Please! Wait! I have a son! I have a son!” The man pleaded, scooting away from me as much as he could. There was terror on his face as he looked up at me -- bright blue eyes, dark brown hair, and human scruff around his jaw. He seemed like he was old enough to have a child. “He needs me!”
“I see,” I spoke, my voice cold to my own ears. “Such a shame that your son is going to grow up without a father,” I told him, watching as he clung to a desperate hope that he would live and seeing it be dashed in his eyes. Before he could say another word, I flicked my wrist and slashed his throat, the Keening Blade cutting through flesh with terrifying ease. I can't believe I used this sword to spar with Kallian. I could have cut something off of her.
“Azoth!” I heard someone shout, and I recognized the voice as Svarah. I looked up from the man that I had slain to see that she was striding towards me, bloodied axe in hand and a smile on her face. “You fight well for a mage,” she spoke, shouldering the great axe while gratitude shone in her eyes. I heard fighting throughout the villa, but it was scant and fading. We had only been in the cellar for a few minutes, but the avvar and the slavers did terrible damage to each other.
I nodded, thinking that was an exaggeration. Without my magic and surprise on my side, I probably would have been killed by that fumbling human. My head bashed in with a mace and that would have been that. “Are your people well?” I asked her as I looked through a window that revealed the courtyard, which was now filled with bodies.
“We had a few losses, but the day is won!” Svarah informed me giving me a wide and genuine smile that slowly slipped when I didn’t return it. “We intend to return to our hold and rejoin with what's left of our clan. You are welcome to join us, Azoth. You have done a great deed for my people.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I told her, and she shook her head.
“For whatever reason you might have saved my friends and family, you saved them all the same,” she told me, her gaze softening a fraction when my expression tightened. The words found their mark, even though they really shouldn’t have. The words of thanks were twisted in my mind -- I saved her friends and family, but I hadn’t been able to save my own. Her thanks was bitter. “I am not the Thane of the Stone-Bear, but you have more than earned a Legend-Mark for this deed in my eyes.”
Behind Svarah, Sturvurkur approached, his face splattered with blood and a weeping wound on his side, but he wore a broad smile. “I happen to be the Thane, and I am in agreement. From this day, I proclaim you Azoth Shadow-Walker!” Sturvurkur shouted out, and the members of the Stone-Bear tribe shouted out their agreement.
“We shall remain here for a time to regain our strength,” Sturvurkur told me, giving me a nod. “You are welcome to remain with us, but I understand that you have a clan of your own.” He said and I had to wonder about that. The offer was on the table and I would need to stay somewhere for winter. I couldn’t make it on my own.
I offered a small nod and Sturvukur before he walked off to help the injured members of his tribe. I watched him for a moment before looking to Svarah. “I’m glad your tribe is okay,” I told her. Svarah opened her mouth to say something, but I cast Invisibility and Pass Without A Trace conjointly to vanish from her vision. Her eyes widened at that, reaching out to grab me, but she missed me and I was already moving on.
“I will see this debt paid, Shadow-Walker!” Svarah swore, knowing I could hear her, sounding indignant that I was leaving like this. I didn’t respond but headed up to the ridge where I left the tomes. Brushing off the snow, I spared one last glance at the Stone-Bear tribe that were nursing their wounds and collecting the dead.
Then I walked away.
…
It took me a full four days to reach the Dalish encampment on account of the thickening snow that seemed to constantly fall from the sky. My face was bitterly cold, but Create Bonfire helped a great deal with keeping me warm since it didn’t need a source of fuel beyond my mana. My stomach felt like an acorn would be too big for it, but I managed to feed myself with goodberries as I made my way back.
My welcome was about as warm as the chill in the air.
Theron and Tamlen appeared, bows drawn and pointed at me when I reached the perimeter of the clan. They must have seen me coming from a while out because the Keeper Marethari and Merril joined them after Theron let out a long whistle. Merril looked like she was on the verge of tears, but Keeper Marethari gave me a long and even look.
“I would have you explain yourself, da’len,” she requested, Tamlen and Theron pointed their arrows down, but they didn’t unnock them. “As Theron and Tamlen tell it, you left the clan to join a shemlen tribe.”
I processed that for a moment, my gaze sliding to them. Tamlen looked a bit sheepish, but Theron narrowed his eyes into a glare. It seemed that as far as he was concerned, that was the truth. A question that had been on my tongue since I joined the Dalish started to rise up, despite the fact that this wasn’t the time or place to ask it.
I needed them to understand why I did what I did.
“My family was murdered,” I told them, my voice small but firm as I spoke the words out loud for the first time. It was real. It happened. There was no undoing it and no way to bring them back. “The woman that I was going to marry was going to be raped, but fought back and was murdered during the last purge. My brother tried to save her, but he only got himself killed. Along with the rest of my family because the humans wanted to make a point. They were stripped, mutilated, and hung from the Vhenadahl tree.”
The Keeper didn’t look surprised but her lips thinned. Merrill openly wore an expression of horror while Tamlen and Theron seemed disquieted.
“I came to you because I thought that the Dalish were fighting against the humans. That you were planning to carve out a new home for the elves. Is that true?” I asked Keeper Marethari, my tone flat. Her expression tightened and I had my answer. I was angry, I realized. And oh so bitterly disappointed.
“We shall wait out the shemlen,” she told me. “One day-”
“You fucking cowards,” I interjected, the words spilling from my lips before I could stop them. All four of them seemed alarmed at the venom in the words. I was as well. I clenched my jaw, taking in a slow breath, trying to get a grip on myself, but I couldn’t help it. “I’ve spent weeks with you, trying to learn your ways, to fit in, because I thought you were the last of our free people. I figured that there had to be more to you than whining about the past and complaining about humans, but that really is it, isn’t it?”
Theron bristled but with a hand, Keeper Marethari stopped him from putting an arrow in me. “You are angry, da’len. You have experienced a terrible loss -- one worse than I imagined. Stay with us, Azoth. You will learn peace.”
“I don’t want peace!” I shouted, making her recoil ever so slightly as I took a step forward. Tamlen raised his bow, pointing it at me, but I didn’t care. “I want vengeance. I want blood! I want to make the humans suffer everything that they’ve done to us. I want them to lose everything! I want them to drop to their knees and beg me for the sweet release of death and I won’t. Give. It. To. Them.” I snarled out each word. “I thought you wanted the same things. You were supposed to want the same things, but all you care about are stupid relics from a dead kingdom and a deader empire!”
“Azoth, what you are feeling right now is known to the Dalish. You must settle yourself, else you will become possessed by demons.” The Keeper warned. I shook my head in response.
“I won’t. No demon can give me what I want because what I want is to carve out a place for our people with my own two hands. I don’t need their power or their promises,” I spat, dismissing the idea out of hand completely. No matter how the demons plagued me, I wouldn’t give in. Not because of will, but because of hate. I would be myself when I brought the humans low and it would be through my power alone.
“It was a mistake to let you into the clan,” Theron voiced, earning a scowl from Merrill.
“It was a mistake to come to you in the first place,” I retorted. “You’re useless. Content to hide in the woods, complain about humans, and look down on those that suffer more than you can comprehend. The void take Arlathan and the Dales. I don’t care about them. I care about the future.” I spat at Theron before I reached into my pack and pulled out the tome of the druids. Unceremoniously, I tossed it to Merrill, who nearly dropped it she was so surprised.
“Call it payment for the clothing,” I told them before I began to march away. I already memorized the book on the way back, knowing deep in my gut something like this would happen and I would have to leave. Not back to the Stone-Bear tribe. Nor towards the Dalish. I was a fool to come out here. I wasted so much time.
“This is- Keeper- It’s!” Merril babbled excitedly before she realized that I was going. “Azoth! What are you going to do?” She called out, clutching the tome to her chest. A fragment of their precious empire. Maybe they could do something of use with it, but I didn’t have high hopes. The Dalish left me bitterly disappointed with the legends that surrounded them.
“Something,” I told her as I made my way. A few weeks wasn’t a long time, but it was enough to give me a sense of direction. I knew my destination.
Denerim. This was a fool's errand and it was time I went back home.
“I’m going to go do something.”
Comments
Heisenberg
The Dalish are such chumps, "wait out the shemlen", practically cucking themselves. Really like the last line of "I'm going to go do something" great statement to end the chapter.
