Oswin was trembling. Sweat ran down his temples. He heaved and just stopped sort of vomiting. He lurched forward toward a blurred figure.
"So, how was your Harrowing?"
The words were like daggers pricing his throbbing head. Oswin winced and grasped the initiate's shoulder, half trying to push past her, half using her as support to stand.
"Oh no you don't. You won't slip by me so quickly." Lilian side stepped his clumsy attempt to get past her once again blocking Oswin's path. "Come on now, out with it. What was it like?"
Oswin glowered at her, his face contorted in pain. Normally, such ideal chatter would have be his forte, especially with this pretty young mage who he had been flirting with for several months, but now. But now everything was different "It… was... Harrowing," he managed with much difficulty through clenched teeth.
"Oh very funny Oswin," she rolled her eyes and grabbed his left hand in both of hers and snuggled up to him seductively. "Come now, you can't even give me a tiny little hint?" She purred in his ear. Then she paused, a confused look crossing over her face "Are you, ok? You look like you've been through hell. Was it really that bad?"
"Leave me alone Lilian," Oswin grunted as he twisted his arm out of the girls grip, shoving her backward slightly. He staggered back from the effort and grasped the cold damp stones of the tower wall to keep himself upright.
She pouted, looking hurt. "Look I know your stressed, but that was uncalled for." She snapped, giving him a terse look that could curdle milk. Lilian turned on her heel, and stormed away, "I was only trying to congratulate you. But I see you don't want anything to do with simple initiates any longer." Eirwen stomped around one of the twisting corridors of the tower and was gone.
Oswin sunk against the cold stone wall, sliding down it slightly so he was slouched over. "What is there to congratulate?" he moaned. His vision was muddled, as though he were seeing through smoke.
I'd say there is a great deal to congratulate, a low blood curdling voice chuckled in his mind.
Oswin howled clutching the sides of his head in anguish, pushing his fingers into his throbbing temples. "No, no, no, no, no, no…" he muttered over and over to himself, like some lyrium addled old templar. Sinking to the floor he stayed there several minutes, before the fear began to creep up on him. He pulled himself to his feet. "Come on Oswin, this looks a little suspicious, don't you think? Have to pull myself together. Someone is going to notice… kill you." He staggered forward. "Fix this…. I can… if I could just…" His shoes felt as though they were lead as he lurched down the hall toward the library.
The library was strangely deserted this morning. But Oswin wasn't one to tempt the fates by questioning it. They were doing several harrowings this morning, and his had been the first. He supposed the others were tensely awaiting the outcome, unable to study. Who of their friends would stagger out of that room alive, and who would… well, he should be dead.
The large room smelled of dust and ink, filled with shelves so high half of the books were out of reach. It was empty except for a single templar. Oswin stumbled to one of the shelves. His eyes darted nervously toward the templar and away again. The Knight was an older man with a short white beard and scar covering most of his left eye. The maimed eye was pearly white in stark contrast with its blue partner. Oswin knew this man, but not by name. He wasn't one to chat with his charges. The templar assessed him with his good eye then continued staring blankly ahead.
"Where to look…" he muttered riffling through the books. Nothing here would have what he needed. The only recommendation he'd find in the general collection for dealing with a possessed mage would be the end of a templar's sword. What he needed would be in the restricted section… if it was even here.
But searching there was impossible with the righteous soldier present. He needed a distraction. Oswin pulled a book off the shelf at random and buried his face in it, pretending to read. The pain in his head had subsided slightly. His vision was clearer. Oswin took a moment to reinforce the magical barrier he had constructed in his mind. To contain the evil that had made its way there.
Are you frightened little mage? I like this feeling. Your heart races, adrenalin pumps through your veins. I hope you have it more often.
Oswin managed to resist crying out as pain searing through his scalp. The book hit the floor with a dull thud, getting the templar's attention. He was now eyeing the young mage suspiciously. "Clumsy..." Oswin muttered. Managing a weak smile, the Templar continued to regard him with indifferent disdain before letting his gaze wonder.
He had to come up with something. Anything to have a moment alone in the library. Squeezing his eyes shut Oswin tried to think through the fog.
I could help you little mage. Killing this man would take but a moment. We could escape you and I, be safe. That's all you want right? You must have faith in yourself; take pride in your strength. Let me help you.
He swallowed hard and shut his eyes. "I passed Commander Gregoir in the hall on my way here. I think he wanted help with something..." he managed to choke out though the words were strained and unnatural sounding, as though they came from very far away. He looked weakly at the old man.
The templar blinked and looked at him as though he just remembered they were in the room together "What did you say? Spit it out."
Oswin shrugged. "I'm not sure, something about the cellar. An infestation?"
"Ehh?" the templar grunted. "My post is in the library. I'm sure they'll be able to handle it." He paused and gave Oswin a hard stare. "You look ill. What's wrong with you?" the large man took several steps forward and Oswin suddenly felt his back hit the bookshelf behind him. Several large scrolls tumbled from over his head and scattered on the floor between them. He scrambled to his knees and started to gather them in his arms.
He's made you! Take my offer quickly now while you have the chance! Let down these weak little walls. I'll break through them soon anyhow.
"I'm FINE" he said with a more vigor than the words required. "Fine, just on edge after my harrowing. The knight-commander was pulling others off their posts is all. I hope it's not serious."
The man eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "Well I suppose you are the only one here. I could check it out," he muttered. "But you are to leave the library at once and return to the barracks." He snapped authoritatively.
"Of course," he chirped and piled the scrolls in his arms haphazardly on the shelf in no particular order. The obedience came on reflex. He had always been obedient. That was about to change.
Slowly the old Templar walked through the door, but not before gesturing for Oswin to go first. He complied though his knees shook and he stumbled but managed not to fall. Oswin turned right out of the hallway and began slowly walking toward the barracks as the templar went the other way. As soon as the old man had rounded the corner Oswin sighed with relief.
"Praise the Maker." He darted back into the library. He could only pray to Andraste that there actually was something wrong with the cellar.
He clung to the bookshelves as he slowly pulled himself toward the restricted section. His eyes darted over the titles. "No, no, no, no, Yes!" he said snatching a large book off the shelf. He stumbled toward the large table used for studying at the center of the room. He opened the large black leather bound Grimoire and began flipping through it frantically.
That is right little mage. Let your attention wonder to other things. Let your concentration slip from containing me. Every inch you lose my roots sink deeper into your mind.
Oswin slammed his head into the dusty pages of the book. "Shut up, Shut up, Shut up!' he yelled, his voice breaking tears streamming down his face. His cries were muffled by the pages. Oswin's hands clutched his raven hair so tightly he was close to pulling it out in clumps.