Chapter Text
It was not the first time Rook had been in Antiva, or even Treviso. Helping slaves escape Tevinter had involved a surprising amount of travel. Antiva shared a border with Tevinter and was fairly ambivalent about magic and elves and Treviso, at least before the Antaam, was a busy city it was easy to get lost in. She'd even had run ins with the Crows, fortunately never violent. Occasionally, they just needed a reassurance the Shadow Dragons weren't starting trouble in their city. Being accompanied by a group of traumatized former slaves usually smoothed things over quickly. The last time, in fact, a Crow had been her contact and let her use one of their hideouts to stay with her charges. She didn't think she qualified as a "friend" but certainly there was no animosity.
She had never expected to have a meeting with the First Talon. As far as she knew, no one met the First Talon. But apparently asking about their most famous mage killer got attention.
"It's so busy here. I thought Minrathous was crowded, but this place…"
At least Bellara was having a good time. She would not have been Rook's first choice in companion to meet with a group of assassins, but Harding was still having headaches and Neve had had to go meet a contact last minute. Rook didn't want to go alone, so Bellara was getting a tour of Treviso.
"It's more densely populated than Minrathous," she told Bell, scanning the street. "Smaller, but with a similar population. So it feels crowded." The crowd passed by and Rook started walking again. "It's not even the busiest city in Antiva. Antiva City is almost three times as big."
Bellara looked at her, mouth open. "So this is a small city"
"And getting smaller every year." Rook gestured to the canal that ran alongside the street they were on. "I don't know if the water is rising or the land is sinking, but someday this'll all be underwater."
"What will the people who live here do?"
Rook shrugged. "Build their homes taller?"
Bell laughed a little, apparently getting used to her humor. "And the people we're meeting, the Crows? Are they the city guard?"
A man in indigo leathers passed them as she said it and did a little double take, smirking at Bellara as she walked past him.
Rook paused, watching him cautiously until Bell was by her side. "They're assassins," she said. "But they love Antiva in general and Treviso in particular. They run the city, but I doubt any politician would admit it."
"I see. Do you think the man Neve knew about will help us?"
The casino their contact had told her to meet at was at the end of the road, a large sign dominating the skyline. "I hope so. Theoretically, the Crows will take any contract they deem worthy. They have a certain code of honor. Hopefully it includes killing gods to prevent the end of the world."
She introduced them when they reached the casino and they were brought to the top of the building, to a private lounge with four Crows. Three around her age, two human men and a female elf, and an old woman in a chair.
It was obvious who Caterina, the First Talon was. The other three introduced themselves as Viago de Riva, the Fifth Talon, Andarateia Cantori, the Seventh Talon, who owned the casino they stood in, and Illario, Caterina's grandson, who notably did not have any other title.
"I'm Rook," she said. "This is Bellara Lutare, of the Arlathan Veil Jumpers. Thank you for meeting with us."
"You're the client? Viago asked, sounding skeptical.
Rook supposed they didn't look much like people who would hire an assassin. "Right. My target is a pair of elven gods — or that's what they call themselves. They're ancient blighted mages. My detective says you have a man who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees."
"Lucanis," Caterina said, speaking for the first time. "My grandson. They called him 'the Demon of Vyrantium.' He was the one who did those jobs."
"That sounds like exactly who we're after," Rook said, glancing at Bellara, who smiled and nodded.
"Except Lucanis Dellamorte is dead," Viago said. "He was killed a year ago."
Disappointment pierced her like a blade. "Oh." That did explain why Neve hadn't heard anything recently. "Well. Thank you for your time. I'm sorry—"
"What I say doesn't leave this room," Caterina interrupted. When everyone had turned to look at her, she continued, "The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face."
Rook expected one of the others to try to gently redirect her or try to tell her that couldn't be true. But, to her surprise, they all took her seriously, and were only upset she hadn't told them sooner. Age had clearly not slowed the First Talon. She had only been waiting for the Venatori to make a mistake.
"Now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept." She turned her piercing gaze on Rook. "Find this Ossuary. Free Lucanis. You'll have your god-killer. And I'll have my grandson."
It seemed like a fair trade. How hard could a prison break be, compared to taking on a couple of gods.
They followed Illario back through the streets, running along the rooftops as a short cut to the water. Illario seemed annoyed that Caterina had kept this from him. Clearly he had mourned his cousin, and was reeling from the revelation that he was still alive. So Rook was a little surprised he didn't come with them, once they reached the boat. His excuse of wanting to confuse anyone that was following them didn't make much sense to her, and she was an expert at losing a tail. She hadn't really wanted to bring him, anyway, so she didn't argue. She'd only known Bellara a couple weeks, but she trusted her. She couldn't say the same for Illario.
"Have you heard of this prison?" Bellara asked as the Crow mage guided their boat out to open water.
"Yes," Rook admitted, watching the lights of Treviso grow smaller. "Though this is the first time I've been sure it was real and not a myth."
"Why would you think it was a myth?"
"The Venatori like to make themselves sound scarier and more connected than they are. The idea of an impenetrable underwater prison is exactly the sort of thing they'd make up."
Her eyes lit up. "It's underwater?"
"That's the rumor."
"The enchantments alone…"
"That's why we thought it was a myth." And now, apparently, they were going to break an infamous mage-killer out of it. "No one had ever seen it, and people who were supposed to have been sent there could just as easily have been killed, or sent somewhere else obscure. It seemed impossible, even with the power some of the magisters have. So." She shrugged. "Dismissed it at a myth."
The mage they were with seemed to know where they were going and once they reached some point int he water that looked like all the other places they'd been, she stopped the boat and started to make a whirlpool in the water. Rook and Bellara both leaned over the edge of the boat to watch the spell work. Rook had never had much luck with water magic, but she supposed if she liked in a place like Treviso it would be handy.
The whirlpool pulled them down, beneath the surface of the water. Rook resisted the urge to hold her breath, there seemed to be a bubble of air around them and she should use it as long as she could. Bell was watching in delight, probably trying to figure out resonant frequencies or the like. Later, she'd ask her about it. Maybe get better at water magic.
They hit sand, having passed through the barrier of a larger bubble at some point. Rook looked up, watching fish swim past the invisible barrier, then, slowly climbed out of the boat, hooking her satchel over her shoulders again.
"I'll wait here as long as I can," the Crow mage told her.
"Do you even know if Lucanis is still alive?" Rook asked her, looking down the path they had landed on at the collection of buildings a distance away.
"Caterina believes he is."
And that was good enough, she supposed. They'd need to find him, or proof he was really dead that a stubborn grandmother would accept.
Maybe this wasn't easier than killing a couple gods.
"Come on." She jerked he chin at Bellara, who nodded and they headed down the sand path. Cliffs looked on their sides, possibly natural, possibly man-made. As they got closer to the Ossuary proper, the path was littered with the bodies of Venatori guards. "Someone's been busy," she commented, pausing to inspect one of the bodies.
"Or something," Bellara added, pointing to what looked like claw marks.
They looked like demon kills, if Rook was honest with herself. But what a violent demon was doing down here slaughtering guards was a mystery.
"I think this is elven," Bellara said as the sandy path turned to brick cobblestone. "And old. It's possible it's been down here since before the gods were imprisoned.
"Maybe you'll find some artifacts," Rook suggested, then immediately regretted it. The artifacts Bell studied tended to be problematic. In an explosive sort of way.
Still, she seemed excited about it. "Maybe! If the Venatori haven't destroyed them or corrupted them or taken them out to use somewhere else."
That was usually what happened with elven ruins, to be fair.
As they got deeper into the prison — which sure didn't look like any prison Rook had been in, and had probably had an entirely different purpose when built — they came across some missing bridges and, eventually, a leaky spot where the magical barrier met one of the pillars.
Rook stared at the thin spray of water for perhaps longer than necessary. "If the enchantments containing this place ever failed…"
"They shouldn't," Bell said confidently before immediately undermining it with, "But they might. On top of that, we're looking for a killer." She looked over at Rook as they started walking again. "How sure are with that this is a good idea?"
Rook was tempted to point out that she, herself, was a killer. Probably not with a count as high as a Crow. But she'd torn through her share of Venatori in her work as a Dragon. She wasn't proud of it, but she wasn't ashamed either. Being an assassin was different, perhaps, it being a job and not self defense, or the defense of others. But that probably didn't matter to the dead bodies you left behind.
She didn't really want to say that to Bell, though. She was a lot tougher than she looked, and this whole mess would probably end up toughening her up more. It still felt wrong to admit Rook didn't really have a problem with freeing this particular killer from this particular prison.
Instead, she tried for a different version of the truth. "If we want to kill a pair of gods, maybe a 'demon' is just what we need."
They were still coming across dead bodies, but nothing alive, not even when they reached a big courtyard, with lots of doorways. One in particular had a barrier fueled by crystals. "Whatever's in there, they really don't want it getting out," Bell commented.
Rook looked up at the crystals hovering above them. "So we break it."
Leave it to Venatoris to use complicated magic rather than a big metal door. The crystals broke a lot faster than steel.
To her great amusement, there was a solid metal door behind the barrier, but it was unlocked and opened easily.
Inside, underneath a slowly spinning elven artifact was a large crystal prison, surrounded by Venatori guards. They were winding magic around the crystal, apparently to keep whatever was inside, well, inside.
Rook twirled her dagger as Bellara readied her bow. "We don't have to fight," she offered. "We're just here for Lucanis Dellamorte."
The guard closest to them thumped his staff, lighting it up red. Rook sighed. Apparently, they did have to fight. "Get ready," she murmured to Bell, orb dancing on her palm.
The Venatori was in the middle of some invocation, having turned his back to the prison. Before Rook could lift a hand to send a bolt his way a man leapt from the crystal and grabbed the lead guard around the waist, twisting so the guard next to him stabbed his comrade when trying to defend him. That guard was then kicked and impaled onto a jagged crystal as the former prisoner turned to take out the remaining guards.
All of which would have been extremely impressive, even if the gentleman didn't have what appeared to be etherial purple wings.
She and Bellara exchanged a look as the last guard fell, then Rook said, "I'm guessing you're the reason we're here."
He turned slowly, wings folding, then disappearing. "Who are you?" he asked, in the trade tongue but with a heavy Antivan accent. "Who sent you?"
"My name's Rook. This is Bellara. Caterina sent us." And had not mentioned her grandson was that nice to look at. Nothing about Illario had interested her in the slightest. And she had expected a man kept in this place for a year to be thin, bedraggled and half-mad. Not capable of taking out five guards in under thirty seconds and then look ready to take her and Bell on next.
"Caterina," he said quietly, with enough emotion it was clear he had missed his grandmother as much as she had missed him. Gathering himself, he braced his hands on his hips. "But you're not a Crow."
She shrugged. "You weren't expecting a rescue, I wasn't expecting… whatever that was."
"Rook," Bell whispered, as if he wouldn't hear. "He's possessed by a demon."
"Well, obviously." She'd seen a lot of weird magic shit in Tevinter, but she still knew a possession when she saw it. "But that was amazing."
Lucanis spread his hands. "It's complicated."
As was everything in her life lately. "Caterina promised me a mage killer if we broke you out of here."
"I can still work." Said with just enough offense she believed him.
"Good. Because I'm pretty sure more Venatori are on their way. We have to get moving."
She turned to go, but stopped when he said, "They have a vial of my blood. They can use it to control me. I cannot leave it in their hands." She looked back at him and he continued, "And, I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here. Calivan. Crows don't break contracts."
Blowing out her breath, she looked at the ceiling a moment, searching for patience. "Yeah, yeah, the famous Crow contracts." She looked back at him, hands braced on her hips. "So you want a prison break, a blood heist, and assassination help just to get you out of here?"
"I'll owe you."
The words felt like a weight on her, burying her with all the other ones. Pretty soon it was going to get hard to breathe. "I'm sure we'll owe each other before this is all over," she told him. She looked over at Bell and turned again. "Let's go."
*
She did not fight like a mage.
Lucanis had fought a lot of mages. They tended to depend on their staves, counting on the spells to keep attackers at bay. But staves were slow, and standing still meant it was very easy to catch and stab you. Even the handful that had had the bright idea to try hitting him with the staff, hadn't been strong enough to do much damage.
But this woman, this mage his grandmother had sent to save him, fought like a Crow. She was fast, darting from one enemy to another. A staff was strapped to her back, but she fought with an orb crackling with magic energy and a dagger the length of her forearm. She flung the orb out at her target, striking them with a build up of magic and stunning them before darting forward and slashing with her knife. None of the Venatori seemed to know what to do with her, though Lucanis heard at least one call her a Dragon before falling to her blade.
Her companion, the elf, held back like a traditional mage, but used a bow. She also called out warnings to Rook as she danced through the fight. He was slightly bemused when he heard, "Lucanis, your left," an instant before dodging a blast of red fire. He turned, ready to leap at the mage who had sent it, but stopped when Rook flickered into sight beside the man and cut his throat.
That one. Her soul darkens. I could whisper promises and make her weep.
Lucanis winced at the words echoing in his head. Spite had been quiet since he'd leapt from the crystal cell. Lucanis had assumed the demon was content that they were finally on the path to revenge and had been busy fighting. You will do no such thing. She's getting us out of here.
Didn't say I would. Said I could.
No one had ever mentioned demons could be pedants.
"Where do you think they're keeping your phylactery?"
Rook's question brought him back to the world and he looked over at her. She was cleaning her blade off on the robes of a Venatori, before sheathing it and digging through the dead man's pockets. "My what?" he asked.
"Phylactery," she repeated. "It's what they call the vials of blood they take from mages in the south. So the templars can track them."
"They do that?" Bellara said, sounding horrified.
"In the Circles, yes." She pulled out a few potion bottles and opened them, sniffing cautiously before corking it and tossing one to Bellara and straightening. "Well. When they had Circles. Now I think they only do it if a mage is arrested or something."
"Are you from Ferelden?" Lucanis asked. She didn't sound southern, but it seemed polite to ask.
"Tevinter," she replied. "Born and raised. But I've been down there a few times, and I know some ex-Circle mages. They have a lot of horror stories. Anyway, your blood, where?"
"Calivan keeps it under guard near his office. At the center of the prison."
"Onward then."
They passed through one of the laboratories and Bellara stopped, inspecting a few of the bodies. "Blood magic. Sacrifices to make spirits into demons."
"Any spirit can become a demon," Lucanis said. "Zara didn't give them a choice."
That one I could not tempt. Smells of pine and home. No anger, just grief.
That was the first time he had heard Spite sound… wistful. You have a home?
The FADE. Where I am free, floating, infinite. Not trapped in meat and bone and claws sheathed.
I'm sorry I asked.
"Who is Zara?" Rook asked, gently nudging Bellara to keep moving. If the bodies and smell of blood magic upset her as much as it did her friend, she didn't show it.
"Zara Renata," he said, shoving open the door on the other side of the room. "There might be a higher ranking Venatori somewhere, but I don't know of one. This place is all her."
"Renata," Rook murmured, head tilting in thought. "Not a magister, but wealthy. I've heard the name. Her slaves don't usually last long enough to rescue."
Something clicked in his head. "You're a Shadow Dragon."
She flashed a grin and gave a little bow. "Guilty as charged. This is not my first horrific blood magic room. Or even my first prison break." She glanced up as they passed a leaking seam in the barrier. "The whole underwater thing is unique."
"I wish we knew what the elves had used this for," Bellara said, following her look. "Do you think we could hunt for artifacts before we leave?"
"I imagine the Venatori have used them or broken them by now," Rook replied. "But I promise if we see any you can poke at them."
Bellara smiled brightly. "Thank you!"
They fought their way through the Fabrication room, and the head torturer that ruled there. Spite was having a delightful time, which meant he was lending Lucanis all the strength he needed to get through this.
On the other side of that room they went down deeper into the Ossuary and, mixed in with the stench of blood magic, Lucanis caught a different scent. "This way," he said, changing paths and dropping down a short cut. "It's close. We can smell it."
"We?" Rook asked, landing next to him.
"The demon."
"What kind of demon is he?" That was Bellara, dropping down with them.
"He calls himself Spite."
"Oh," she said brightly. "I don't think I've ever met a Spite demon."
"Probably from an uncommon spirit." Rook squinted in the distance. "I see a big building with lots of barriers on it. If I was a vial of blood, that's where I'd expect to be."
She was correct. Once the women destroyed the red crystals, the door opened to reveal a wall of vials and bottles, all holding scarlet liquid.
"Oh dear," Bellara said. "How will we know—"
"That one." Lucanis pointed to the large jar in the center.
"Leave the Venatori to do nothing subtly," Rook muttered. Stepping forward, she picked up the jar and smashed it on the ground.
For the first time in a year, Lucanis breathed a sigh of relief. His troubles were far from over, but he no longer needed to fear their control.
Before he could say anything — thank her, or suggest they move on to Calivan — Rook sliced her palm and squeezed a fist, letting a bit of her blood flow into the puddle of his.
"Why did you that?" he asked, watching her shake a few more drops into it.
"There's a fucking puddle it. A good mage would be able to soak some up and still use it to control you. Now it's contaminated." She stepped back to them and held her wounded hand out to Bellara who sighed in exasperation and healed it.
"You could have broken more of the vials and done the same thing," she pointed out.
"And have a bunch of actual demons the Venatori can't control running around? No thank you. Venatori demons are bad. Masterless demons are—" "Chaos," Lucanis finished for her.
She gestured at him, confirming he'd made her point for her. "Blood problem solved. Next?"
"Calivan," he growled, hearing Spite's voice echo in his own. "This way."
They followed him to the other end of the courtyard, to the elevator that would take them to the top of the Warden's tower. Rook heaved on the lever and it started to click upwards.
"So, Lucanis," Bellara said. "How's the demon? Feeling… contained?"
Spite was chuckling. Nervous elf. Thinks we'll go feral. Nibble her ears.
"Mostly," Lucanis replied, ignoring him.
Bellara side stepped a little closer to Rook, who gamely shifted to stand between them. "It's okay. We can talk about something else. What's Caterina like?"
Lucanis had a vague memory of a warm fire, the smell of peppermint and good coffee, and a voice tinged with affection. When he tried to pursue it, it slipped away. "After so long in this pit. I barely remember."
Rook glanced over at him, eyes unreadable. Behind her, Bellara looked sad. And maybe a little guilty for her distrust. Before either of them could say anything, the lift lurched to a halt and he caught sight of his prey.
He expected Calivan to run when he saw them. He had expected the man to run long before this, if he was honest. Instead he stood there and complained as they crossed the room towards him.
"This was entirely unnecessary," he said, in the needling voice that haunted Lucanis's dreams. "Zara and her little jests. 'He's already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won't this be ironic?' Hilarious. And now look at the mess you've made of my facility. She always leaves me to clean up."
"So this is Calivan," Rook said dryly, tossing her knife in the air and catching it.
Trying not to be distracted by that, Lucanis replied, "He is. The target I was sent for a year ago. A Crow never abandons a contract."
"Mmm. Tell you what, you don't owe me for this one. This one is free."
Oh I LIKE her. She's fun.
Lucanis leapt forward, feeling Spite's wings spread, helping him cross the distance quicker. The women spread out, one to each side, blocking the Venatori guards that had started to pour in. It allowed him to focus entirely on Calivan.
He, to his annoyance, fought exactly like a mage. Normally, this would not be a problem. He was the Crow's mage-killer, this was his specialty. But he was exhausted and weak from a year of imprisonment and torture. The only reason he was moving as quickly as he was was Spite. The demon was all but keeping him upright and for once Lucanis was grateful for the possession. It would let him finish this.
If Calivan would fucking stay still.
He wasn't as fast as Rook, but he clearly knew the same magic she was using, and he was creating duplicates of himself which Lucanis was tired enough to be distracted by. He got sloppy and a blast from Calivan's staff sent his sliding across the floor, near one of the Venatori guards.
He lifted a blade and was about to bring it down when Rook appeared, kneeling next to Lucanis. She held up a hand, making a barrier to deflect the sword. Then she threw out her orb, sending the man flying.
"So is this Calivan contract one of those 'I have to do it myself' things?" she asked casually.
"A Crow never turns down assistance." That probably wasn't true but he wanted this over and done with.
She smiled brightly. "Excellent. Hold this." She handed him her knife, then wrapped her hand around his wrist. Then she held her other hand out, palm facing the ground, and made a slight gesture, flexing her arm to shove her hand forward slightly.
Electricity crackled around them, close enough the hair on Lucanis's arms and neck lifted. Lightning struck the ground, hitting the guards and Calivan in turn. First one round, then another, and a third. The smell of burnt flesh reached his nose and electricity danced on the puddles of standing water that dotted the floor.
Spite appeared in his mirror form on the other side of her. He leaned forward, head tilted as if studying her. "Smells of lavender and lightning," he purred. "Storm beneath the skin." He leaned closer, as if sniffing her. "I LIKE her."
Lucanis tried to ignore him, telling himself it was probably better the demon liked her than the alternative.
Rook lifted her hand from his arm and took her dagger back. "Have at him. Watch the puddles."
Calivan was on the floor and didn't seem to be in the mood to continue dancing around. Spite blinked out of sight and Lucanis surged forward, wings unfurling. He hit his target with all his force, slicing his throat with one blade as he drove the other through what passed for the mage's heart.
Standing, he pulled the sword from the man, exhaling. "The Crows send their regards."
Spite appeared at his side, looking down at the dead man. His smirk mirrored the satisfaction Lucanis felt. Finally, after thinking of little else for a year, his contract was dead and his revenge had begun. Calivan. Zara. And whoever betrayed him to these monsters.
Rook walked up slowly, knife sheathed, tossing the orb up and down like a child's toy ball. She glanced down at Calivan with a curled lip before looking back at Lucanis. "So. We got your target."
"Yes," he said, wiping his sword off to put it away. "The job is done."
Between them, Spite sniffed the air. "Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet."
He glared at the demon, not sure what to make of that. He'd have thought Spite would be pleased. They were finally going to get out of here. See the world.
"Lucanis?" Rook asked cautiously. "You all right? What are you looking at."
"Careful," Spite purred. "They know. We're not RIGHT."
Lucanis looked from one to the other. "You cannot see him." It should have occurred to him before, when Spite was sniffing at her, but he'd been busy at the time. "I wondered."
She blinked at him, then looked at Spite. Or, from her perspective, the blank space where he'd indicated Spite was. "We clearly have things to discuss," she said finally, before meeting his eyes again. "Somewhere else."
Maker bless a practical woman. "Agreed. I think… it's time I got some air."