I was not one of the lucky few to win, but the experience was well worth the effort. With more time, perhaps I could have produced something better, but I am proud of the little story that came of those brief hours of pure creative abandon. Contests like this are a great way to stretch the writing muscles and have a little fun while doing it - and I will certainly be participating in more contests in the future!
You may read my story below, or see my DeviantArt page, where you will also find a little extra background information on Dragon Age if you are unfamiliar with the setting.
(A "Dragon Age: Asunder Creative Writing Challenge" Entry)
by Amanda Gregory
Acknowledgments
(Dragon Age © EA International; my characters are mine.)
Many thanks to David Gaider, Chris Priestly and Jessica Merizan for opening up this contest, and a round of applause for the team at the BioWare Writer's Pit for all the hours they volunteered to read through the approximately 400 submitted entries. Even though I was not among the winners, it was an honor to know my work was being read by some of the best in the industry. You guys are my heroes!
And a very special thanks to my wonderfully supportive and attentive husband and proof-reader, Julian Gregory. You know more about writing that I can hope to ever learn. Thank you for your patience when deadlines are coming fast, computers are being uncooperative and my nerves are frayed.
She tried to recall what had given her such a jolt, but the dream was already slipping away. All that remained was a vague feeling of unease, and even that was fading.
Cheerful yellow sunlight filtered in through narrow windows high in the stone wall, and judging by the angle of the shadows it cast Faelyn had overslept.
She wasn't too concerned; she had recently passed her 18th birthday and had completed most of her studies as an apprentice. Her duties were light these days. Rumor had it she would be facing her Harrowing any day now. If she was deemed ready.
Waiting for the Harrowing to descend was reason enough for anyone to feel uneasy, she thought as she dressed for the day.
Two of her friends had already faced their trials and were now full Mages, while a third had elected to be made Tranquil, too afraid to face the temptations of the Fade.
Faelyn herself wasn't exactly eager to face her Harrowing, but she felt reasonably certain that she could survive the trial. Mostly, she just wanted it to be over with so that she could concentrate on other things.
One of those other things found her while she was on her way to the dining hall.
She was passing a small adjoining hallway when she heard someone whisper her name. She turned back, a curious smile playing on her lips, and slipped around the corner.
There she found her friend James, a templar stationed at the Circle Tower, leaning casually against the wall. Faelyn's smile widened when she saw him.
"What are you doing here?" She whispered as she trotted up to him.
He grinned toothily down at her as he pulled something from behind his back and held it out to her. It was a delicate pink rosebud.
She gasped in delight and reached for the flower. "It's beautiful!" she gushed.
"I thought you'd like it." He beamed.
"I do," she said, holding it to her nose and drawing in its sweet scent.
"Happy birthday," James said.
"My birthday was a month ago. You're late." She playfully swatted at him.
"There were no roses blooming a month ago," he retorted, dodging her swing. "And you have been too busy to come outside with me."
"Well, you templars get all the fun. Outdoors in the sun, playing with your swords, while we mages toil away inside with our books." She sighed melodramatically.
"Yes, it must be difficult. With all the sitting. On cushions even." He nodded solemnly. "You may not have noticed, but we templars don't get cushions. No, ma'am. Cushions make a man weak. We must have steel, and wood, and stone. Nothing soft."
"Nothing?" she asked with a grin, reaching up and running the petals of the flower against his cheek playfully.
James grinned and stepped closer to her. He leaned in and parted his lips to whisper, and stopped when there were sudden voices in the outer hallway.
James jumped back a respectable distance from Faelyn, his grin gone in a flash and his shoulders squaring to attention. Faelyn quickly slipped the rosebud into one of the many pockets on her robe and set about smoothing her skirts, a nervous habit.
James cleared his throat. "Uh, as I was saying," he began, gesturing for her to walk beside him - though not too close. "The Knight-Commander has requested that all apprentices remain inside the Circle Tower today, unless specifically authorized leave." His tone had become all business. They were playing the nothing-to-see-here game.
"Oh, I see." Faelyn nodded as they exited the side hall, hands clasped demurely at her waist.
A pair of mages, arms full of scrolls, bickered with each other over some minor facet of arcane lore as they scurried by. The mages didn't seem to even notice Faelyn and James standing there as they went.
Faelyn and James stole a glance at each other.
"I suppose I should..." Faelyn began, just as James said, "Well, I ought to..."
James smiled. "I should let you get on with your day," he said softly.
Faelyn returned the smile. "Thank you for the flower. Really," she said.
"You're welcome," James replied, looking as if he wanted to say more, but finally he just nodded, then turned and walked away.
Faelyn slipped a hand into her pocket, fingering the velvet petals of the rose, and smiled.
Faelyn spent the morning in the library with a stack of thick leather-bound tomes. Usually she loved nothing better than to be nose-deep in a book, but today she couldn't seem to focus. She'd read the same passage three times and had no more idea what it said after the third time than she had the first.
Her hand kept trailing back to the flower hidden in the folds of her robe, and her mind kept trailing back to James. His eyes, his smile, the way he smelled. His eyes.
With a frustrated grunt she heaved the book's cover shut. This was ridiculous. She needed air, but the curfew was still in effect; apprentices were to stay indoor today unless granted special permission. Every so often the templars liked to throw their weight around, just to prove they could.
Faelyn strode from the library and began pacing aimlessly. Try as she might there were two things she couldn't stop thinking about: her impending Harrowing, and her feelings for James.
The Harrowing she could do nothing about; it was going to happen, sooner or later, and she would have to face that trial when it came. James was another matter.
They had been friendly with each other since she first joined the Circle when she was twelve. He had been nearly twenty and a Templar-in-training, apprenticed to the Templar charged with collecting newly discovered mages. James had been kind to her when she was most in need of a friend.
Six years later he was her friend still, something rare in the Circle. Casual fraternization between templars and mages was discouraged and romantic entanglements were entirely forbidden, though secret trysts did happen and rarely stayed secret for long.
The consequences for being caught in such an affair were not something Faelyn wanted to think about. And yet as she walked, her thoughts kept drifting back to that very subject more and more, and for the first time she began to realize how much Circle life could chafe.
Faelyn had walked herself to near exhaustion by the time the dinner bell rang. She was ready to simply call it a day and crawl into bed, dinner or no dinner, when she spied James hurrying down the hallway in her direction.
The hallway was filled with mages and templars heading towards the dining hall, there was no place to speak privately. James caught her arm as they passed. "Meet me at your quarters in ten minutes," he whispered. Though his expression was neutral, Faelyn could read the subtle urgency in his gaze. She nodded, then continued on her way as if nothing were amiss.
She looped back towards the stairs, hitching up the folds of her robe and taking the steps two at a time. The hallways were mostly empty by the time she'd reached her quarters.
At first Faelyn wasn't sure James was waiting for her, until he stepped out from the shadow of a doorway. He pressed a finger to his lips and motioned her close.
She hurried over, frowning. "What's happened?"
"It's your Harrowing. You're to be called tonight," he said in a breathless whisper.
A sudden chill filled her belly, and despite her earlier confidence she felt suddenly unprepared. "Oh," was all she could manage.
He took her by the shoulders and leaned close. "I... I have a question for you," he said, all in a rush, "and I need your answer now."
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "What question?"
James glanced around, making certain no one was around to overhear. "Do you want to go through with it?"
"It? The Harrowing?" she asked, frowning.
He nodded.
"It isn't as if I have a choice in the matter," she said slowly.
"What if you did?" he whispered. "What if I could get you out of here? Would you want to leave?"
"I..." She wet her lips, thinking. "I don't know." She hesitated, searching his eyes.
"You have to know." He raked a hand through his hair. "Look... I... I don't want to lose you," he said. "You have to know I'm in love with you. And I believe you feel something for me, too. I thought we'd have more time to sort this all out, but we don't. So I'm asking you: do you want to go through the Harrowing, or do you want to run away, with me?"
"What about my phylactery?" she breathed, hardly daring to speak the words. "They can come after us if they..."
James reached into the neck of his tunic and pulled out something on a cord around his neck: a small glass vial filled with dark liquid.
Faelyn gasped. "How'd you get it?" Tentatively she reached out to touch the vial; there was a curious sensation, like an electric charge, as her finger brushed the glass. The pull of like magics.
"I have my ways." James smiled. "So... Will you run away with me?"
Faelyn looked into James' eyes. "You know what they'll do us if they catch us." It wasn't a question.
James nodded. "I'd rather die free with you than live out my days alone," James said.
It was the exact thing she'd longed to hear. She gave him her answer with a kiss. The kiss lasted only a moment, but she seemed to feel a similar sensation like what she'd felt with her phylactery; a kind of magnetic pull on her very soul. Her head spun and she felt a giddy rush from head to toe - a kind of electric heat that sent her buzzing and made her crave more.
It was like magic. She wasn't an expert on kissing, but Faelyn was pretty sure that when people described kissing as "magic" they didn't mean the literal kind.
Faelyn stepped back and shook her head. "This... isn't right." Even as she was speaking the words part of her wanted to take them back and just kiss him again, but she didn't.
James reached for her hand. "You're just nervous. Everything will be fine! We're together now." He smiled.
Something in his smile sent a chill down her spine. She stepped away from him. "No."
James frowned. "But they're coming," he said, too calmly. "The Knight-Commander, and the First Enchanter. They're going to take you away and put you through the Harrowing." He took a step towards her. "We'll never be together. Don't you want another kiss?"
"Stay away from me. I know what you are," Faelyn cried in horror and she channeled primal energy, forming a ball of flame in the palm of her hand. "Show yourself, demon!"
James began to laugh, and as he laughed his form began to change. His body morphed and twisted until standing before her in James' place was a creature lithe and tall and hauntingly beautiful: a Desire demon.
"Well, little mortal," the demon cooed. "You figured me out. I didn't think you would."
"Underestimating me was your first mistake," Faelyn countered.
"We were having such a good time. I knew you wanted him. I knew it before you did," the demon tittered. "You can have him again. I'll do it better this time. You won't suspect a thing. I promise." She grinned, flashing teeth.
"I don't think so," Faelyn replied. "You're going to get out of my way, or you're getting a fistful of flames." She drew her arm back, mystic flames crackling against her palm.
The demon shifted form and Faelyn found herself face to face with James again. "Fae, please." His eyes were brown. That was what she'd first noticed about him, six years ago when they'd first met. "Stay with me. I love you," he said, holding out a pink rosebud.
"NO!" She released the fireball. It hit James square in the chest and he burst into flames, screaming. They weren't his screams, they were the demon's. She couldn't see his eyes anymore.
Sudden weariness overcame her, and Faelyn fell into darkness.
Her eyes fluttered open and he was there, standing over her. She would have smiled, but for the point of cold steel at her throat.
"No, wait!" a voice cried out. It sounded like the First Enchanter.
Am I still dreaming? She wanted to ask.
She could see the fear and confusion on James' face. He meant to kill her, she was certain, his sword poised above her for the killing blow. She could feel the tip of the blade against her skin. One swift thrust to the base of her throat, just above the collar bone. It would take hardly any pressure at all.
It seemed poetic that her life was to be ended by his hand; she could almost resign herself to that fate, but for the fear in his eyes. He would put her down like a rabid dog.
"Hold," the Knight-Commander growled, and Faelyn felt the blade ease away from her throat as James stepped back from her. She took a ragged breath, unaware she'd been holding it.
The First Enchanter was kneeling beside her then, helping her to sit up. "Are you alright?" she asked, white brows furrowing as she scrutinized Faelyn's features.
"Yes." Faelyn replied, finding her voice. "Yes, I believe so." She raised a hand to touch the skin where the blade had lain. A spot of blood wet her finger.
James knelt beside her and pressed a square of cloth into her hand. "It seems I was... hasty." It was not quite an apology. Faelyn met his eyes again; though the fear was gone, his gaze held no warmth for her. He was a templar, she was a mage; all else had been pure fantasy.
"You were simply doing your duty." Faelyn took the cloth with a acknowledging nod and wiped the blood from her fingers and throat. The cut stung, but it was minor. The coldness of James' eyes cut deeper than his sword. She hated that she expected to find anything different. She wanted to hate the Desire demon, too; but the demon hadn't put those feelings in her heart, it had merely uncovered them.
Faelyn climbed to her feet, shaken but alive. She had survived the Harrowing, but it was what came after that was the real challenge. Facing herself had been one thing; learning how to live with that knowledge would be an entirely different trial.
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