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“I’m going to set him on fire.”
Duncan sighed through his nose and brought a hand to his brow. He turned to look at the newest Grey Warden recruit. Said recruit stood before him, arms crossed, with the brattiest look on her face. He really didn’t want to deal with her frankly stupid tantrums.
“What has Alistair done now?” he asked, exasperated.
“More like what hasn’t he done?” The air around Amell came alive with a charge of electricity. The sizzling sound of lightning buzzed uncomfortably in Duncan’s ear. He was use to her small outburst of magic whenever her mood turned crabby. It was involuntary. Amell was young and her magic was still closely tied to her emotions, but she assured him that these tiny sparks of magic were harmless. She was in denial, of course, while Duncan fully realizes that it’s only really harmless to her. And while a bit of static or little licks of flames are nothing to worry about, Duncan fears not her obviously dangerous powers but her utter lack of control over her emotions.
I can’t let what happened in the Tower happen with the Wardens.
His mind drifted off to the memory of a room engulf with flames. Templars scrambled about trying to Smite the fire, but when one wave was extinguished another would erupted with a force stronger than the last. The flames did not burn, not yet, but the heat was unbearable and the smoke dried out their eyes and suffocated their lungs making it hard to see and breathe. In the eye of the tempest, a small girl sat, curled into a ball, her legs drawn to her chest, her head tucked in, and her arms around her. The Knight-Commander signaled for his men to subdue her, but the roar of the flames and the screams of the frightened made coherency impossible for the Templars. But somehow Duncan still heard the small sobs that racked through the girl’s small frame.
Along with the inferno, raw magic exploded from the mage causing others to stumble in its wake. Duncan barely stood his ground. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Greagoir giving the command for a Templar archer to shoot. The archer let the arrow fly. Duncan could see that the arrow was imbued with the ability to nullify magic as it clear a path from the flames for a direct hit. The arrow pierced through the mage’s shoulder and she fell to the floor.
There was nothing human about the scream the tore through the mage. It was a sickly, broken howl filled with unbelievable anger, unbearable sadness, and a deeper, sharper hurt than from the wound in her shoulder. As the mage began to rise up, magic tore through the fabric around her shoulder. The flames burned away the arrow still embedded in her and then cauterized the wound. It was as painful as it looked.
The mage raised her hand and conjured white hot flames in her palm. The flames mirrored the storm raging in the room. Duncan realized that she was beginning to harness control over the magic she initial let run wild with her emotions. Soon the other mages and Templars in the room started to pass out, the few who stayed conscious began to scream louder. He realized these weren’t screams of fear but of pain. The fires have started to burn.
Those who were still awake tried to carry those who have fallen and evacuate the room. When the last of them fled to the halls that were free from flame, Duncan, the First Enchanter, and the Knight-Commander were the only ones left standing in the room. But soon a shockwave of fire knock the last two against the wall and they crumbled to the floor. Duncan, miraculously, was still standing. The flames didn’t seem to burn him, which meant it was up to him to stop her.
Drawing a dagger in each hand, Duncan trudged through the storm of flames to reach the girl. When he was close enough to see the whites of her eyes, he saw that there were tears there. Yet her eyes, her eyes were hallow and utterly soulless. It echoed the look of helplessness in her face. Through the storm he heard her speak a name.
“Jowan…” It wasn’t a prayer or a plea. It was empty.
The flames seemed to abate and Duncan was able to get closer to her. Then a thin wall of fire erupted around her. Encircling her like a cage, the flames began to close in on the mage girl. He saw that edges of her robes and hair were starting to singe from the heat. His heart dropped to his feet when he realized that the flames were about to consume her.
It dawned on Duncan that this girl no longer had the will to live.
Sheathing his daggers, the Warden Commander closed the distance between him and the mageling. Reaching through the flames to grasp her outstretched hand. It was agony. The white-hot fires immediately burned off the leather that gloved his hand and soon his bare flesh was charred black by the burning magic, but Duncan gritted his teeth through the pain and said over the flames:
“I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription.” He saw the mage take in a small breathe. “You are now a Grey Warden.” The flames wavered. The look in her eyes was still clouded, still lost to the world, but he willed the mageling to focus on him. In a small whisper that only she could hear he breathed.
“If you are just going to throw your life away, give it to me.” She swayed in his grasp. He said it so quietly he wasn’t sure she heard him but he continued. “Come to the Order, serve with the Grey Wardens. You could save the world.”
Amell opened her mouth to take a shallow, shocked breathe. She seemed to inhale her magic and soon it receded back into Fade. In a blink and a gust of wind, it was gone, the flames, the smoke, it was just the two of them standing in the middle of the room, hands still clasped together. Silence hummed in the air.
The chaos the ensued the aftermath was a nightmare. Duncan placed himself before Amell and the Templars. Arguing with them as they called for her punishment, for her death, but it all fell to deaf ears, as magic once again radiated from Amell. Her hand that he still held in his own was emitting a soft green glow. It was different this time. It was comfortable, gentler warmth against his skin. The heat this time sought not to destroy but to heal.
Duncan was puzzled. When he first spoke to Irving about Amell’s prowess, he mentioned that Amell never once took a course of the healing arts in the Circle. She had claimed it was beneath her but the First Enchanter thought it to be the one branch of magic his star pupil was not adept in.
And it was evident in the lost look in her eyes that she had no idea what she was doing. Her magic acted on her instinct as it did on her emotions. Working through her feelings of emptiness and detachment, Amell sought to repair the damage on Duncan’s hand. When her magic faded, he could see there were still blisters and scorch marks. Looking utterly miserable, she held his hand still marred with ruined flesh and nerve damage that she had caused. The mageling tried her best, but it was not enough. Amell bowed her head in shame.
Later, when the dust had settled, they walked out of the Tower together and set forth to Ostagar. Amell was listless, but every now and then her eyes followed the movements of his wounded hand. Searching, but not exactly seeing.
Duncan suddenly snapped back to the present when Amell let out another burst of static. She had been ranting all along but he had not heard a word of it.
“… he’s extremely foolish. Utterly incapable of giving a serious answer. And what do you expect? He’s a junior recruit to the Grey Wardens. He’s totally inexperience. I can’t possibly learn much from him.” How long has she been talking and when does she plan to stop? “You can’t put him in charge of me. I’m a freaking child protégée.”
“Amell, this isn’t the Tower anymore.” Was she always this petulant? In the days travelling to Ostagar, she was unresponsive, almost dead to the world, barely saying a word for days on end. Duncan had chalked it up to grief over the loss of her friend and home. Now she came alive in front of him with the most prepubescent hissy fits. “You can’t expect to get special treatment.”
The mage girl scoffed, “I have no such expectations. I neither want nor need special treatment. What I demand is that I be place under the charge of someone who will challenge me. Someone who will make me smarter and stronger. I have little to no knowledge of the outside world as you’ve said before. How do you propose I continue to be a protégée without the proper tutelage? Alistair can’t even give me proper instructions on how to hold a sword, let alone teach me how to devise a strategic battle plan.” Egads, is she always going to be this chatty? “I need to be guided by the best, not by someone who wasn’t even good enough to be a Templar. And that’s such a low bar right there, quality isn’t a Templar Order’s strong suit.”
Duncan sighed internally, wondering if she had already insulted Alistair to his face. “And what then do you propose should happen?” Amell’s posture changed. Duncan realized that she was mimicking the Wardens that stood in salute before him earlier. It appears the young mage really wants to be taken seriously.
“I want you to take me under your wing.” Amell requested as respectfully as she could. “I am more than proficient in the matters of magic. I believe myself to be one of, if not, the best.” The lack of humility didn’t escape Duncan’s attention. “But I am not much good at anything else. Joining the Order wasn’t my choice but I still take the matter very seriously. If I had you to lead me, to directly guide me, I stand a chance of becoming one of the most valuable asset in the Order, an absolutely formidable Grey Warden. I want the best so I can be my best.”
Duncan felt a mixture of pride and trepidation at her abrasive but eager attitude. He couldn’t be sure, but Amell seemed more loyal to him than to the Order. It wouldn’t be advisable if the former were true. A Warden should be dedicated to the cause of ending the Blight not to the individual who commands them. But then Duncan thinks back to the mage in the room of fire and remembers the name she chanted as she welcomed her death. It was entirely possible that Amell was incapable of being devoted to more than one person, let alone an entire Order.
And so far he had no solution to this problem.
“Unless of course, you now realize bringing me here was a mistake.”
It surprised Duncan how immediate and certain he was in his response, “I have made more mistakes than you can possibly imagine, but you child are not one of them.” Despite the girl’s immaturity, the mage inspired a confidence in him. This was probably what led him to declare that when the war was over he would take her in as his apprentice.
The significance of that promise was not lost on Amell. She understood the uncertainty of war, the ever present threat of death, and she was more than familiar with the complications of life. Feeling grateful for his word, Amell relented to following Alistair’s lead once they set of for the Wilds.
“Fine, but I’m going to mess with him first.”
“You are not to use magic to harm him in any way.” Duncan said quickly.
“Don’t worry,” the mage responded defensively, “I will do nothing of that sort. I’m just going to find a frog and hold it front of him…menacingly.”
Duncan didn’t even have time to comprehend the absurd statement before Amell pranced away in search of an amphibian. It wasn’t until later when Alistair couldn’t account for one of the other recruits and Amell suddenly pulled a small tree frog from her robes causing Alistair to make a very unmanly noise, that Duncan got wind of what was going on. When Alistair ran off, Amell confessed that the missing recruit was not the frog she was holding but had ran off chasing the skirt of a woman that did not exist after she had given him a name, a description, and an idea that there was one who fancied him. It baffles him how incredibly juvenile this mage girl is though he does realized she might be closer to thirteen than she is twenty.
“What? You said there was time before we had to go to the Korcari Wilds. You told me to get to know the other recruits.”
“What exactly do you think getting to know someone entails?” Amell just shrugged as she played with the cute frog in her hands. A small smile graced her face. Totally losing his earlier line of thought Duncan asked “What do you plan to do with that frog?”
Amell just shook her shoulders, bringing the small creature close to her lips as she whispered, “I read somewhere once that if you kissed one, it would turn into a handsome prince.” Amell didn’t see Duncan’s eyes dart off to the direction Alistair ran.
“Do you believe such stories?”
“It’s as believable as what you told me back in the Tower.” Ah, so she did hear him. She was looking at him now with an intensity so foreign to her usual looks of contempt or apathy. “How can you look at something so destructive, so unhinged and monstrous, and think to say that?”
Duncan gave her a soft look. He brought his hand up, the one that was still ruined by her flames, and gently ruffled her hair. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to show this much affection to a recruit he was probably leading to an early death, but propriety never really had a place when it comes to Solona Amell. The mage threw a questioning but guilty look at his hand.
“Solona,” her face twisted at the word, but she didn’t interrupt him. “Do you know what your name means?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “It means sunshine. That’s why I hate it. It doesn’t suit me. I prefer to go by my last name.”
“And what does your last name mean?”
“Power,” Amell immediately answered. “Power of a scared bird.” Her expression change to one of bewilderment. “Wait, did you recruit me just because my name sounds like a perfect name for a Grey Warden cause of the griffin symbol thing?”
“As good as a reason as any.” Duncan mused.
“That’s an extremely stupid reason. A griffin isn’t even a bird!” The mage protested in disbelief.
The Warden Commander chuckled lightly. “You misunderstand. I’m not saying that’s the reason I conscripted you. I’m saying that I saw no reason whatsoever not to recruit you. Nothing that disproves to me that you had the capacity of saving this world we live in.”
Amell opened and closed her mouth in shock. Some part of her still doubted the confidence Duncan had with her. “I am holding a frog which I used to scare one of your Wardens.”
Duncan’s hand was still in her hair and he gave it another ruffle before dropping it to his side. “And despite that, despite of all the mischief (Amell scoffed at the understatement) you like to cause, I look at you and I have no doubts.” He bent down a little to look her in the eye and gave her a small smile.
“I believe in you, Solona Amell.” He straightened and then looked at her expectantly. The mageling seemed at a loss for words. So looked at the frog in her hands and stroked its little green head. The small creature affectionately bit her finger. Finally she looked up at him and asked.
“If this frog turned into a prince, do you believe I could become his friend and serve him to better this kingdom?” Duncan eyes again scanned the encampment in search of Alistair. He found the secret prince looking warily in their direction. He quickly looked back at Solona and without a hint of reservation in his voice, replied.
“Yes, I do.”
