Merrill touched the frame of the eluvian, her lips pursed. It was so...uncooperative. She had cleansed it with blood magic, but it hadn't responded very well, apart from being rid of the more dangerous, rotten magics that afflicted it.
Spirits and demons alike were attracted to the eluvian, but Merrill's blood magic tended to ward them off. In particular something very nasty had been near it when Merrill had first come across it in the Brecelian, but it was long gone by now. Blood magic, when put to constructive use, was very helpful.
Magical artifacts in general attracted spirits, as they blazed with energy and had a direct connection to the Fade. What kind of spirits depended upon the artifact itself and the mage or mages who had made it.
The older a magical artifact was, the better integrated it was into the Fade. For some reason, Tevinter artifacts, especially pre-Blight ones, were the exception, barely making a dent in the Veil. It meant that Tevinter artifacts, unlike elvhen or dwarven ones, barely lasted longer than a century, and older artifacts were purely for archaeological and not magical purposes.
On the other hand, ancient elvhen artifacts, particularly those rare items recovered from Elvhenan itself (often stolen by the Tevinters and then stolen back by escaping slaves), felt as if they bypassed the Veil entirely. There was simply no break in the magic, as if when they were created, the Veil had not been present.
The eluvian very unique, however, operating differently than any other magical artifact Merrill had ever seen, and this made its repair much harder. It connected to the Fade, but it connected somewhere else, a very strange feeling that Merrill wasn't sure how to articulate. If the physical world were on one plane, and the Fade on another, then this third place was another plane entirely.
She was quite certain that everyone who understood magical artifacts would be very excited to know about this. She was even more positive that the Circle would destroy such a thing if they ever found it.
She felt that if she managed to get the eluvian to cooperate with the Fade and the third place, she could make the mirror work. The connection between the three was the problem, not the mirror itself.
She had repaired the physical entity, but the eluvian remained dark in the Fade, the enchantments not working. Blood magic would be of no use, because the artifact wasn't entirely in the physical world.
The connection was easy enough to locate, even if it didn't function. There was a copy of the eluvian in the Fade as well as the physical world, and there was a connection between the two via a cord. It was the oddest thing, because the copy of the eluvian always stood a little to one side of where it actually stood in the physical world, as if it had been designed that way so the cord was easier to access. The cord was dark, and there was another connection that lead off to the third place, one Merrill couldn't get to in either her physical body or her Fade self.
Merrill had repaired the cord between the physical eluvian and its Fade copy, and magic flowed easily along the path. It was the second cord that was the tricky one, the one that lead to that strange other place. It seemed to be made of many knots or links in a chain, and even if she repaired all of them, the cord soon went dark again, and her magic was stopped.
It felt almost as if there was a lock, keeping it closed.
Merrill regarded the eluvian with a scowl, tapping one foot on the ground. Every time she reached out to it with her inborn magic, she could feel the connection to the Fade and that strange third place, and the energy being blocked, like a dam.
Already she had repaired much of the connection, but it still wasn’t enough. The knot needed to be undone.
With a sigh, she sat on the floor before the mirror and closed her eyes. Maybe this time, the Fade would be different.
Entering the larger Fade when one was not a natural somniari was always a trying experience. Not only did one have to go to sleep, but one had to maintain their lucidity in their own dream, and then make their way out of their dream to the larger Fade. This was even more difficult when one was a blood mage.
Provided a blood mage did not want to blow a hole in the Veil and brute force their way into the Fade, reaching the Fade was far more difficult for a blood mage to do. Merrill, however, felt that she had achieved a decent balance between blood magic and her inborn magic, and was reasonably adept at getting into the Fade despite the blood mage handicap.
She wandered into the Fade, searching intently for the eluvian's Fade twin. She found it quite easily.
She held the connection to the other in her hands, examined it yet again. It was an ancient spell, deteriorated and worn, but she had repaired its shape well enough.
The arulin'holm had been of little use in the physical world. The repairs needed to happen within the Fade, with no physical instrument, no matter how magical. However, there was a copy of the arulin’holm in the Fade, and it had proved to be invaluable, a tool that could manipulate the delicate strands of the connection spell with ease, and perhaps be a way of picking the lock, so to speak.
The connection had been dim and cold when she first spied it. Now it thrummed with magic, brighter than it had ever been. When she reached it, it responded to her touch, sending a jolt of magic through her dream-hands, but it went dark again.
Slowly, she went over the connection again, from the eluvian, to the impassable wall at the other end. Somewhere in there was one last problem to solve, and then it would wake up.
Her hand passed over a dark link in the chain, one that felt a bit darker than the rest, and she breathed life back into it, as one would breathe over the dying embers of a fire.
The connection lit with light, and the lock was fully illuminated. She examined it closely, looking over the strange puzzle which held it closed.
She might need a key. But a key was something she didn't have, so she was just going to have to do without.
The knot took some careful undoing—she wouldn't even have been able to manipulate it if she hadn't repaired everything else. The Fade-image of the arulin'holm was invaluable, slowly turning into just what she needed as she realized she needed it.
Some locks needed keys. Some just needed to be picked.
She didn't know how long she was there, picking at the lock, but something clicked and whirred, and the lock was undone.
The effect was immediate. The Fade thrummed around her, and the dark shadow of the eluvian's twin suddenly blazed with light. She was so startled she tripped back into her own mind and shocked herself awake. The eluvian made different noises now, less like whispers and more like running water. She opened her eyes, and found the room enveloped in a violet glow.
The eluvian gleamed, the purple light it emanated soft and gentle and welcoming.
“Oh...” Merrill whispered. Gingerly, she got to her feet. “Creators.”
With one delicate hand, she reached out to touch the surface of the mirror.
Her hand went in.
She jerked back, shocked, and examined her hand for any damage. It seemed perfectly fine, and felt fine as well, save for a slight tingliness. She eyed the mirror, circling it, probing it with her magic for any signs of something being wrong.
There was nothing that jumped out at her for being wrong. All appeared well. Any nearby spirits appeared to be gone, startled away.
Coming back around to the front of the mirror, she pressed her hand in again. It went in again, and came out fine. Slowly, she eased her entire arm in, then her shoulder, and pulled them out. She was still fine.
With a deep breath, she stuck her head in.
On the other side of the mirror was a foggy landscape, over which the early morning sun shone. She frowned, and pulled her head back out. She went to the front door and looked outside, then nodded, her suspicions confirmed. It was a bright, cloudless midday in Kirkwall.
She went back to the eluvian and stepped through the mirror fully, to stand on the other side. She was amidst a large number of other mirrors, most dull, one or two gleaming like her own. The glowing ones shone with light that was purple, blue, green, or silver, and one was even a pale gold.
The area she stood in was rather pleasant, if empty of people. There were benches and large stone statues around the area, reminding her of a courtyard or decorative garden, but a little dreary with few plants or flowers. There were curious stone trees and the huge carved figures were of men and women both, some in armor or in long robes. She wandered about the courtyard, looking at the other mirrors.
She pressed her hand to one of the ones that glowed blue. Her hand went through, to somewhere very cold. After a moment's hesitation, she walked through the mirror, and found herself barefoot in a massive, icy cavern.
Icicles dripped from the ceiling and ice covered the floor, and under the ice she could see the remains of stone carvings. More ice covered large statues, and there was a mosaic on the far wall that was made up of thousands of tiny, colored tiles, all preserved by the ice. She walked over to the mosaic, and saw a rather marvelous scene depicting people braving a snowy wilderness. It did not escape her notice that the people were all clearly elvhen, with pointed ears and even vallaslin etched out in miniscule tiles no larger than her fingernail.
Overwhelmed, She let out a startled laugh and quickly backed through the eluvian again. She shook her head. She certainly wasn’t dressed to be wandering around a snowy cave, that was quite clear.
She walked into another eluvian, this one a pale green. It opened into a closed and dusty hallway that felt of magic, and she could hear the whisper of spirits near her, but couldn't see them. On the floor were discarded books, piles of cloth and dusty cushions, and articles of clothing, all of which was which was surprising--after so long, shouldn't cloth and paper have rotted? More art lined the walls, this time paintings, not a mosaic. The paintings depicted elves building a huge fortress on a mountain, the sun rising over them as they worked. Interestingly, none of the elves had vallaslin, and Merrill raised her eyebrows as she saw a large white wolf with six blue eyes feature heavily in many of the images.
She returned to the courtyard again, and spent a few moments wandering in and out of other eluvians, still not sure what she was seeing. One eluvian lead to a forest ruin, one to a small hut in the middle of a pond. Another opened into a massive building that, after a few moments, Merrill identified as a library. That was one was very odd, as it was not in the physical world as the other places had been, but seemed to be another section of the courtyard. Merrill wondered just how large the space the eluvians opened into was, and contemplated that she might have to make a map.
She had thought the eluvians to just be a method of communication, but it appeared they were something quite different. There were so many, and most of them had gone dark--could she fix them? She had fixed her own, perhaps she could open the others. What would the others think of this!
Merrill walked out of her eluvian and returned to her home, giddy with discovery. Marethari couldn't doubt her now—she had to return to her immediately, show her what this was. She would understand at last.
First, she had to show someone in Kirkwall.
She ran to Abigail’s house and burst through the door.
“Abigail?” Merrill called.
“Merrill?” Abigail came down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, vhenan, I have to show you something,” Merrill said, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.
“What is it?”
“Come on, to my house!” she grabbed Abigail's hand.
“If it's so important--” Abigail said, surprised.
“It is!”
Merrill and Abigail hurried back down to the Alienage and to Merrill's home.
“What's that noise?” Abigail asked once they were over the threshold. The familiar whooshing and whispering noises of the eluvian were replaced by a strange sound, like rain on the surface of a pond.
“It's the eluvian,” Merrill said. “Come see, come see!”
She took Abigail to the room where the eluvian was kept, and showed her the softly glowing mirror.
“I got it to work,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. "I fixed it!"
Abigail was dumbstruck for a minute. “So...how did you do it?” Abigail asked after a long, shocked silence.
“I was working in the Fade,” Merrill said. “The mirror's spells aren't just physical—someone enchanted its duplicate in the Fade.'
“What does it do? Does it talk to people like you thought?” Abigail reached out and touched the mirror, and her hand sunk in. “Oh!” she pulled back, startled. “Is that supposed to happen?” she asked.
“Yes,” Merrill nodded. “Come on, come on—follow me!” she took Abigail's hand and walked through the mirror, ignoring Abigail's surprised gasp. They came out the other side, Abigail stumbling a little bit.
“Look at it!” Merrill spread out her arms to encompass the courtyard. “Isn't it the most amazing thing?”
“It's...lovely,” Abigail grabbed onto Merrill's arms. “But I feel absolutely sick.”
“Oh no,” Merrill said, taking Abigail's elbow. “What's wrong?”
Abigail grimaced and shook her head. “Don't know,” she croaked. “I feel like—like I'm not supposed to be here.”
Merrill nodded and guided them out of the mirror. Abigail let out a breath, immediately feeling much improved.
“Maybe it's not good for humans to be there,” she suggested. “I feel fine now.”
“Oh, dear,” Merrill fretted. “Oh no—that means it'd make most everyone else sick, too, except for Fenris, and Velanna, and the Clan--”
“Don't worry about that,” Abigail laughed. “It's—amazing, Merrill.” she said. “You are absolutely amazing.”
Merrill laughed and went very red. “Oh—no, you don't mean that,” she said. “You're too good to me.”
“And you are too brilliant by half,” Abigail said. She pulled Merrill close and kissed her, a gesture which Merrill eagerly returned. “Maker, that's amazing,” Abigail said when they broke apart. “I just—that's amazing. Do you know where the other mirrors connect to?”
“Most of them are broken,” Merrill said. “Some still work, though. I don't know where they all come out.”
“Have you gone through them?”
Merrill nodded. “One was in a cave somewhere—it was very cold. Another was in a huge ruin, in a forest, but I'd never seen it before. Some others--I saw the most beautiful paintings, Abigail, you need to come sometime!”
“Hm,” Abigail chewed her lip. “Maybe the cold one was in the Frostbacks somewhere? It'd have to be further south than Kirkwall anyway, wouldn't it?”
“Maybe...I need to tell Marethari,” Merrill said.
“Yes, absolutely,” Abigail agreed, then paused. “Would she even want to hear about this?”
"Of course she would!” Merrill said, then looked away. "Well...I think she would. But I'm not...entirely sure." she admitted. “But she should. And I think—I think I'd need to tell the Coalition, the allied Dalish, and Marethari is the only way I could reach them.”
“Well, I'm sure that no matter what Marethari thinks, they'd want to hear about this,” she said, reading out for the mirror, but stopping before she could touch it.
Merrill had no such compunctions, and ran her hand along the frame. “Ilen said I should come back to the Clan,” she said. “Well, I’m finished with this, and there’s nothing at all wrong with it, so I can.”
“Do you think--”
Abigail was interrupted when someone knocked on the door.
“Who's that?” Abigail wondered.
“I don't know,” Merrill said. “I'm not expecting anyone...”
She opened the door, to see Fenris standing in the doorway. He breathed hard, as if he’d run a long way.
“Fenris?” Merrill blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“Have you seen--” he spotted Abigail over Merrill’s shoulder. “Good, you are here.”
“What is it?” Abigail asked, her brows knitted in concern.
“Aveline needs you,” Fenris told her.
“What’s wrong?”
Fenris shook his head. “Not here,” he gestured for her to follow him. “Come with me.”
“Should I come too?” Merrill asked, worried.
“No,” Fenris said. “More people would just make it worse.”
Her gut churning, Abigail raced after Fenris, who took her to the Guard’s barracks. Fenris bolted off again, before Abigail could ask him where he was going, leaving Abigail to find Aveline on her own.
She went to Aveline’s office, and found the woman pacing, her shoulders tense.
“Seamus Dumar is dead,” Aveline said.
“What? How?”
Aveline shook her head. “Petrice,” she growled.
Abigail rubbed her forehead. “That makes no sense. Why would Petrice kill the Viscount's son?”
“It's a long story,” Aveline sighed. “Saemus was converting to the Qun—Fenris and I were dealing with both Dumar and the Arishok, but then Seamus up and vanished. Didn't show up to one of the meetings.”
“And then...?”
“We got a message,” Aveline said. “Apparently Seamus wanted to meet with us, privately.”
“You and Fenris?”
Aveline nodded slowly. “Yes.”
Abigail bit her lip. “That sounds like a trap to me.”
“It did to us, too. We told the Viscount, but not the Arishok.” she sighed. “Might not have been the best idea, but we didn't need to give him any more reasons to attack us. We told Dumar to let us handle it, so we went to meet him.”
“And...?”
“We found his body. In the Chantry.”
Abigail gave a vulgar swear. “Is that where Fenris is? Keeping an eye on things?”
Aveline nodded. “We're trying to keep it quiet, which is why we need to hurry,” she said.
They came to the Chantry, where Fenris was busy scaring everyone away from the body. He looked frazzled, his silver hair pulled away from his face in a loose ponytail, his hands grasping for a weapon that wasn't there.
“How is everything here?" Aveline asked.
“No one is too suspicious yet,” Fenris said. He glanced at Abigail. “We moved the body,” he said. “Here.” he tapped on the door to a small side room.
“We couldn't risk removing it from the building and letting the entire city know,” Aveline said as an explanation.
Abigail went into the room, and saw the body of the young man. His throat had been cleanly cut, and he was bled absolutely white, blood staining the front of his shirt.
“Oh, no,” Abigail breathed, looking down at Seamus' body.
“Oh no is putting it lightly,” Aveline said. She covered her mouth and turned away, thinking.
“What do we do?” Abigail asked. “If the Arishok finds out--”
“It is another death on the hands of Kirkwall,” Fenris said. “He would be entirely justified in attacking the city, at least according to the laws of the Qun.”
“This is practically a declaration of war anyway,” Aveline said, shaking her head. “If it was a noble from any other country—especially after three of their delegates were killed--” she pressed her hands to her temples.
“Would Par Vollen declare war on Kirkwall?” Abigail asked. “If someone in Kirkwall had killed an Orlesian or Ferelden diplomat, they definitely would. I know Orlais at least has gone to war over less before.”
“Par Vollen is not interested in the south, at least not as of yet,” Fenris said. “They wish to deal with Tevinter first. However an incident such as this would bring their attention—there have already been Tallis in the city, you could be assured than Ben-hassrath would arrive here as well.”
“Spies?” Abigail asked. Fenris nodded. “That’s the last thing we need,” she muttered, starting to pace.
“This might be just what the Chantry radicals want,” Aveline said. “Perhaps they aspire to one of the Exalted Marches, but need a reason to conduct one. Par Vollen declaring war, or the Arishok attacking Kirkwall, would be an excellent reason.”
“But what's the point of an Exalted March?” Abigail asked.
“Why, I am surprised you could not put it together,” came a voice from behind them, and they saw Mother Petrice step into the doorway.
“Petrice!” Aveline growled.
“It seems as if you have killed the poor lad,” Petrice shook her head. “What a shame.”
“This was your doing, Petrice, and you know it!” Abigail pointed an accusing finger at her. “What did you do this for? The Arishok--”
“Will be furious, and attack Kirkwall, and will be struck down by the righteous,” Petrice said, a cruel smirk gracing her severe features.
“This man had done nothing to you,” Fenris said, his eyes flashing. “There was no need for you to do this.”
“Hm. Fine talk coming from you.” Petrice eyed the lyrium brands on Fenris' neck and forearms, her glance darting to the marks on his forehead. “You take killing so casually. Why should you care?”
Fenris stiffened, and opened his mouth, but Aveline cut him off.
“We can't stand against the Arishok, Petrice,” she snapped. “And even if we could, this is enough for Par Vollen to declare war on us. Is that what you want?”
“They may declare war, but they would never defeat us,” Petrice said, swiping her hand down. “The Maker is on our side.”
“This is insane!” Aveline said. “Absolutely insane!”
“We need to see the Arishok before word of this gets to him secondhand,” Fenris said.
“I don't think so,” Petrice said.
Aveline stepped forward. “Out of my way, Petrice,” she growled.
“That would be a very poor decision, Guard-Captain,” Petrice said.
Aveline shoved past Petrice, Fenris and Abigail at her heels. Templars met them immediately, naked swords in their hands.
Templars or not, they didn't stand a chance against the three of them. Aveline slammed two with her shield, Abigail broke one's leg and another's sword arm with her staff, and Fenris drove his hand into the last one's chest.
When the last Templar fell, they stood, staring at each other.
Aveline shook her head. "This is absolute chaos," she said. She was sweating, pale and worried. "This will not continue."
“We need to see the Arishok,” Fenris said, shaking some of the gore off his hand.
“And the Viscount,” Abigail added.