Chapter 2 – Tainted
"There is no person so severely punished, as those who
subject themselves to the whip of their own remorse." – Seneca
I managed to open my eyes on the third try….and immediately forced them shut again. I stifled a groan as my world spun relentlessly, making the bile rise in my throat and threatening to spill over. After a couple of moments of struggle, I felt slightly better, though my entire body was coated with sweat from the effort. Taking a few deep breaths, I slowly opened my eyes again, and this time I didn't feel like throwing up…as much.
I was in semi-darkness, so it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. But as the world around me shifted into focus, and my senses began working again, I realised that something was wrong. For one, I was wrapped in something soft and warm, whereas the last thing I remembered was lying on a cold, stone floor. Stone… Why did I having a feeling that was important…? Oh, right! My memories were coming back now… Tamlen and I had been in a cave and there had been beautiful stone women and spiders and…and a mirror!
"By the Creators! Taml–!" I cried as I bolted upright, only drop back onto the furs again as the nausea hit me with full force. Groaning, I concentrated on fighting the queasiness and breathing through my mouth. When it finally passed, I turned my head slowly to the side, looking for Tamlen – or anyone else for that matter – who could provide me with some answers. But instead of people, I was greeted by the sight of a wooden bowl filled with water, and a pile of clean clothes. The wall of the hut, in which I was apparently in, was decorated with various hand-paintings depicting animals and plants, as well as lots of nonsensical symbols. It all seemed strangely familiar, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Then I spotted a curious-looking staff decorated with feathers and shells, and it hit me – I was in the Keeper's hut! But…that meant that I was back at the camp… How was that possible?
This was not going to work, I realised. I needed to get up and find someone to explain to me how I had gotten from the middle of a cave back to camp, while apparently comatose. And where on earth was Tamlen? Maybe he was being cared for in a different hut? But there was so much room here… Was he seriously injured and needed to be isolated? Or was he not hurt at all and was waiting for me to get out of bed already and have a laugh about our silly misadventure?
With concentrated effort, I reached for the clothes, and wrestled them on with difficulty. I had to pause frequently to do battle with the queasiness, which, even though was lessening, was still prevalent. Finally dressed, I grabbed the bowl of water and guzzled it down, realising only now how parched my throat was. Feeling more refreshed and slightly more clear-headed, I got up gingerly and wobbled to the exit. Pulling back the tarp, I was nearly blinded by the fierce sunlight. But I refused to stay huddled inside any longer, and shielding my eyes with one hand, I took a deep breath and stepped outside.
Sure enough, I was back at camp, and everything seemed normal. That is, of course, until people began noticing me. I pasted a wide smile on my face, even though I was far from feeling cheerful. But instead of answering grins, I was greeted with worried glances as everyone shuffled quickly past me. A few of the younger elves gawked at me and pointed, whispering things behind their hands. Frowning in confusion, I looked around for somebody to interrogate. A couple of feet away, I spotted Fenarell, fletching arrows in front of a small fire. He was one of the hunters Tamlen and I had been initiated with, and was a good friend. So I marched up to him, fully intent on throttling answers out of him if I needed to.
"You're awake!" he exclaimed happily as he saw me approach. But his relieved grin quickly turned to a panicked look as he was forced to grab me as I stumbled. "Careful now, Fey. Are you sure you should be out and about? How are you feeling?"
"Apart from feeling like my head had been bashed open and wanting to throw my guts up every few minutes, I'm fantastic…" I muttered ruefully, extracting myself from his arms and lowering myself onto the log he was sitting on. "Do you have any idea how I got back to camp?"
"A shem brought you back two days ago. H–"
"Two days?" I gasped. "I've been out of it for two days?"
"You're lucky to be alive," admitted Fanarell, laying a concerned hand on my arm. "You were delirious with fever and who knows what else. The Keeper exhausted herself trying to keep you alive. Even called on some of the Old Magic to try and save you. The shem warned that there wasn't much hope for you, but thankfully, it seems he was wrong…"
"Guess I'm lucky to be alive then, huh?" I mumbled as the full weight of my situation hit me. "Wait… A human brought me back? Tamlen and I chased some boys out of the woods… It couldn't have been one of them, could it?"
"He was a Grey Warden," Fanarell replied, with more than a tinge of awe in his voice. "He appeared at camp around sunset the day before yesterday with you slung over his shoulder. Said he had found you outside a cave, alone and unconscious."
"Alone? Was there no sign of Tamlen? Is there anyone looking for him? Where is this Grey Warden? I need to talk to him!" I cried desperately, already rising to my feet.
"Whoa, whoa, lathelan! Calm down!" chided Fanarell, pulling me back down. "Most of the hunters are out looking for Tamlen right now. Though there has been so sign of him so far… As for the Grey Warden, he left you in the care of the Keeper and then disappeared again. Quite a strange fellow, if you ask m–"
"I must go back and look for him!" I shouted, jumping to my feet and being saved from keeling over again by Fanarell's fast reflexes.
"Now you just sit here. And no sudden movements, alright? The Keeper wanted to be the first to know if you awoke. She has been anxious to talk to you about what happened and may be able to answer your questions better than I. I'll go get her now, in fact. Stay here."
Before I could say anything else, Fanarell was off, sprinting across the camp. I was left staring dejectedly into the flames and feeling utterly useless. And I couldn't help think that all of this was my fault. A dozen should-haves and should-nots buzzed around in my head…I shouldn't have opened that door…I should have listened to Tamlen when he had said to come back to camp…I shouldn't have been so eager to go gallivanting off with no thought to the safety of my friend…I should have…
"Good to see you are awake, da'len." The Keeper's tranquil voice interrupted my self-punishing. "It is fortunate Duncan found you when he did, though he warned us not to trust too much in your recovery. But it seems you have a strong will, which may have played a greater part in saving your life than any magic I was able to muster."
"What happened to me…?" I asked softly, not really sure if I wanted to know.
The Keeper sighed uneasily. "I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult for even my magic to keep you alive. Duncan, the Grey Warden, thought that there may have been darkspawn creatures inside the cave… If this is true, then the situation is graver than we thought."
"Darkspawn?" I asked, frowning. "You mean those monsters from the old legends? I thought they had been exterminated…" But even as I said the words, I knew them not to be true. Something in my blood had stirred at the mention of the horror that had terrorised the land all those centuries ago. It was an alien feeling that both repelled and fascinated me, and made me want to heave all over again.
"So did all of us," sighed the Keeper. "But Duncan fears they might have returned… I was hoping that to get more answers from you. The Grey Warden told me much, but not nearly enough, it would seem. Do you remember anything?"
"We were in a cave…with ancient ruins," I began, attempting to battle down the rising nausea. "Tamlen didn't want us to go, but some shem found a stone with an engraving and I became curious. He warned that the cave might be dangerous, b-but I didn't listen to him! And now no one knows where he is!" I sobbed, the full effects of my illness, my worrying and all the new information that had just been heaped on me finally overwhelming me.
"Hush, da'len," soothed the Keeper, stroking my hair. "Tell me what happened… It may help us locate your friend."
"T-there was a mirror… T-Tamlen touched it… I told him not to, but…"
"A mirror? And it caused all this?" asked the Keeper, intrigued, but also very worried. "I have never heard of such a thing in all the lore we have collected…" She sighed wearily. "Oh, I was hoping for answers when you awoke, but all we have now is more questions… And Tamlen remains missing even after two days of searching. If he is as sick as you were, his condition is grave…"
"Where is this Grey Warden?" I interrupted. "I need to talk to him."
"Duncan returned to the cave in search of darkspawn," replied the Keeper. "But we cannot rely on him to look for our clansman as well. We must search for him ourselves."
"I will go," I declared, getting up from the log and managing to stay upright this time. This day was becoming stranger by the minute. I am brought back to camp by a shem who is apparently a member of a mythical order that is still intact after almost half a millennia, after having nearly been killed by some nefarious mirror. Second, apparently darkspawn have returned and have taken up residence in this very forest. Third, my best friend has mysteriously disappeared and no one could find him.
But despite this bizarre turn of events, my purpose was clear: Tamlen was still back in that cave with who knows what else, and the reason no one has been able to find him was because they had no idea where the cave was. And it was because of my stupid curiosity that he was in there in the first place! I had to go find him – I owned him at least that much as a friend.
"Are you sure you are feeling well enough?" queried the Keeper. "After all, you were grievously ill and I am not sure…"
"I have to go," I insisted, pushing my queasiness away through sheer force of will. I had more important things to worry about than throwing up, godsdammit! "He is lost because of me and it is my responsibility to fix all this. Where are my weapons? I must leave, now. I have wasted enough time already…"
The Keeper peered at me for a long time. Finally she sighed and said, "Very well, da'len. I can see that your intention is set firm. Though I insist that you take Merrill with you. She will be useful to have on hand in case you encounter any more of…whatever it is that is down there. Search thoroughly, but do so swiftly! We cannot risk losing more clansmen to this…evil. In the meantime, I will order the clan to pack the camp so we can move north."
"I will need my bow. And my leathers. Did this Duncan bring those back as well?"
The Keeper lowered her eyes sadly. "I am sorry, Feylin. Your bow was broken when Duncan found you. But he brought the pieces back. They are in your hut, along with what's left of your leathers…"
I stared at her mutely. That bow had belonged to my father – it was the only object that I had to remember him by, and now it was destroyed. Fighting the tears that threatened to spill, I turned my back on the Keeper without another word. Ignoring the glances the rest of the clan cast my way, I marched to my hut with angry strides, my irritation growing with every step. That thing that was in the mirror better be ready to get what's coming for it! It had ensnared my best friend, it had nearly killed me, and it had broken my father's bow… In short, it had made me seriously angry.
Barging into my hut, I stripped off the clothes I had been given and searched around for my leathers. Locating them on the low table in the centre of the room, I grabbed them, dislodging the parts of my bow in the process. The broken pieces clattered to the ground and lay there pathetically. Dropping to my knees, I gathered them up, fighting the growing sense of anguish that was threatening to eat me alive. This bow had been with me ever since my parents died, all those years ago, and was the only link I still had to my father. Laying the pieces gently back on the table, I gazed at them remorsefully. I knew that no bow I ever held again would be the same. It would always be missing that crucial sentimental element, filled with memory and grief, that was embodied by this bow. Angrily wiping away the tears from my eyes, I got up again and reached for my leathers. Even though all I wanted to do was sit in a dark corner with the remains of my cherished bow, I knew that I could not allow myself that luxury now. Tamlen's life was at stake and saving someone who was still alive was more important than grieving over someone who had died long ago.
Attempting to pull on my leathers, I was forced to confront the inconvenient fact they were completely shredded. Another lump formed in my throat, but I forced it down. Throwing the ruined thing into a corner, I fished around the clothes sack for my spare set, forcing myself to concentrate on my mission ahead. I found them buried at the bottom of the bag and managed to pull them out with some difficulty. I grimaced when I saw them. They had never been worn, and the leather was tough and bent from lying forgotten for many years. But it was what I had, and it would adjust to my body after a couple uncomfortable weeks of sustained wear. After a prolonged fight with the stiff straps and strings, I had managed to squeeze into them. It pressed and cut into me in all the wrong places, but I had no time to be choosy. My friend's life hung in balance, and the faster I found him, the greater chance we had of saving his life.
Since my bow was broken, I would be forced to rely on the swords I had inherited from my grandfather. My mother, had she still been alive, would have prevent me from taking those blades, but time was of the essence and I did not have time to search for other weapons. Swords were not my primary choice of weapon, since most Dalish relied on ranged weapons, but unfortunately I did not have a spare bow. I would have to make myself a new one, when I got back, I realised. But there will be time enough to think about that later. Locating the aged chest made of sandalwood, decorated with delicately carved woodland motifs in the dusty corner of a small trunk, I opened the creaky lid.
The polished length of two curved blades showed me my reflection, making me gasp. My auburn, shoulder length hair was a veritable disaster. It somehow managed to hang limply around my ashen face while sticking up in all directions. My usually slightly ruddy cheeks were pale and sunken, with large purple shadows ringing my eyes almond-shaped amber eyes. There was also a large and angry-looking bruise colouring the left side of my forehead. No wonder everyone had been looking at me so strangely! I looked like death warmed up…
But I had no time to worry about that now. Grabbing the blades, along with their matching scabbards and holster, I slammed the beautiful chest shut and threw it back in the trunk. Fastening the holster so it hung securely on my back, I took a blade in each hand. The leather of the hilt was held in place by silver wire, and it fit snugly into the palm of my hand. Of this I was glad, since I had never had a chance to practice with these blades. My mother had forbidden it, because she considered them more of a family heirloom than anything else, though she had unfailingly cleaned and oiled them once a year, on the day of my grandfather's passing. She said it helped keep his memory alive and for her to feel close to him again. At first I had not understood what she had meant, but with the passing of my own parents, I had come to cherish my father's bow the same way my mother had treasured her father's swords. But where she had kept the memory locked away in a box, I had kept mine constantly by my side.
Until now, that is…
Growling in irritation, I made a couple of cuts through the air, trying to remember the basics of the martial training I had had before I secured the bow as my weapon of choice. The metal hummed as it whizzed through the air, singing a deathly melody that perfectly echoed my mood. There was power in these blades, and I felt the raw energy course up my arms as I slashed and stabbed. Maybe some sort of enchantment? I would try and find out later. Sheathing the blades, I knew that my grandfather's cherished weapons and I will get along just fine.
Checking myself over and tightening a couple of straps on my leathers here and there, I rushed out the door, nearly colliding with Merrill, the Keeper's apprentice.
"Oh, sorry! I was about to knock, but I guess you beat me to it," she smiled whimsically. "The Keeper asked me to accompany you back to those caves."
"I appreciate the sentiment. But if you are too slow to keep up, I will not wait for you," I replied tersely as I set off at jog towards the forest. I had never really liked Merrill, not that I knew her very well. But there was something about her floaty manner and soft voice that I found irritating.
She blinked at my curtness, but fell into pace beside me. "I understand that Tamlen was a dear friend to you. I promise that I will do my utmost to aid you in your search, and to fight, if necessary."
"You know how to fight?" I asked sceptically. "I thought all you apprentices did all day was recite ancient lore at each other. Plus, are you sure you would be a match for the forces of darkness?"
"I may not look like much of a fighter, it is true," conceded Merrill, who, with her slim build and big doe eyes, looked like she was more likely to faint at the first sign of trouble than to stand her ground. "But a key element of my apprenticeship has been the leaning of spells for use in a confrontation, and I do know a thing or two about the healing arts. So if you wish to take the brunt of any attacks that may come our way, you can rest secure in the knowledge that I will be able to patch you up."
"Thanks, Merrill," I replied, hoping I sounded sincere. "And sorry about my attitude before. I'm just really worried about Tamlen." I figured that if I was going to trust this girl with my life, then I better start being nice to her…
"I understand. No offence has been tak– Watch out!" she cried suddenly.
Before I even knew what was happening, Merrill had unleashed a protective shield of energy in front of us, preventing several wicked looking arrows from skewering us on the spot. I nodded appreciatively at my companion, realising that I had seriously underestimated her. Deciding that it was my turn to contribute and put my new weapons to the test, I unsheathed my grandfather's blades and sprang forward as three burly humanoids crashed out of the bushes. One of them was instantly taken out by a blast of fiery magic coming from Merrill, and was sent sprawling in the dirt with a thud. The other two converged on me, brandishing fearsome looking axes. I ducked one clumsy swing easily, but nearly left an arm behind when the second axe came zipping down. Diving to the side, I came up on my knees just in time to parry another attack, the force of which made my teeth rattle. Without really intending it to, the blade in my left hand suddenly shot forward and pierced my opponent's hide armour with ease, coming to rest in his beating heart. The man (though he didn't really look like one) gaped at me uncomprehendingly before topping backwards with a gurgling sigh.
I stared at the dead body in front of me with a mixture of shock and awe, only vaguely aware of the fact that the fight was over. One thought dominated my consciousnesses – I had just killed someone. Even though its features were twisted in such a way as to erase almost any sense of humanity, it had still been a living, breathing being just a few seconds ago…and I had ended its life. The fact that I had done so in self-defence could in no way lessen the shock. And, for another, one of my blades seemed to have acted on its own accord, which, in a way, was even more unnerving than the corpse lying at my feet. Maybe my mother had had very good reasons for keeping these weapons locked away…
"Feylin? Are you alright?" inquired Merrill, laying a hand on my shoulder, causing me jump with fright. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you… But you have been staring at that body for a while now, and we should probably get moving…"
"I…really…?" Okay, now I was seriously disturbed. The fact that I could not string two words together into a coherent sentence was a sure sign that something was wrong with me.
"What were those things? Were they darkspawn?" asked Merrill, staring at the corpses with a mixture of horror and disgust on her face. "You can smell the evil on them…"
"I don't know about that, but they weren't here last time," I responded, somehow managing not to slur any of the words. Why was my vision spinning again? Shaking my head in an attempt to clear my mind, I mumbled something about the need to get moving again as I set off down the path with unsteady steps.
"Are you certain, Feylin? I mean, you do not look like you are feeling very well. In fact, you are deathly pale and appear to be feverish. And what if there are more of these creatures about? Maybe you can describe to me the location of this cave and I can…"
"No!" I rebuked, the weight of my responsibilities coming back in full force and knocking sense into me again. "I cannot abandon Tamlen! I have to do this."
Merrill gave me a long, concerned look before nodding. "Very well. Lead the way."
We continued towards the cave at a more cautious pace. I told myself that it was because I was on the lookout for any more of those things that attacked us. But while I tried to pretend that everything was fine, the going was difficult… The world around me threatened to pitch off its axis at any minute, and it was an effort to put one foot in front of the other. My throat was parched and my stomach ached, reminding me that all I had consumed in three days was a single bowl of water. To make matters worse, my companion was watching me like a hawk, prepared to jump to my aid if I so much as sneezed.
Maybe Merrill was right, I thought weakly, fighting to keep my eyes open. Maybe I really am not well enough to continue… The adrenaline-fuelled vigour instilled in me by the knowledge that Tamlen was in trouble had sustained me until now, but the impromptu battle with those creatures had drained the last reserves of my strength. And if we had to face any more of them, I was not certain that I would be able to put up a fight.
"I wonder whose campfire this is…" mused Merrill as we rounded the bend and came upon a pile of charred wood. "Do you remember it being here?"
Why was she asking so many questions? I thought irately to myself, trying to keep my head from splitting asunder. "No, it wasn't here before," I bit out, clutching my temples.
"The Grey Warden said he would be returning to the cave. Maybe this is his camp," the apprentice mused, kneeling down for a closer look. "But if so, he is not here now. And we've seen no signs of Tamlen. Maybe we should… Wait. Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" I grumbled, my patience and my pain-threshold on the verge of snapping.
"Exactly! There are no sounds of forest creatures…It's too still. Something is in the air…something unnatural. It seems that whatever you woke up inside that cave has spread outside. The sooner we find this cave, and Tamlen, the sooner we can leave."
"Finally…" I muttered under my breath, turning back onto the path. We walked the rest of the way in silence, Merrill apparently absorbed in a world that was beyond my skills of observation. Not that I was paying much attention to anything besides putting one foot in front of the other and trying to maintain a straight course.
"Is this the cave?" came Merrill's voice from seemingly miles away. Raising my head, I found that we had arrived at the clearing. I just managed to make out the tell-tale crack in the rock face despite the blurriness.
"Yeah… Follow…me…" I croaked as I virtually fell into the cave. Steadying myself against the cool wall, I took a few deep breathes, trying to stop the queasiness from rising again. Suddenly, I was suffused with a warm, joyous feeling as a wave of bliss spread through my body. Opening my eyes, I was relieved to find that the world had stopped spinning and the nausea had passed. Merrill was wearing a knowing smile.
"Did you just use magic on me?" I asked, my voice stronger now.
"Yes. I could not bear to see you suffer so. How do you feel?"
"Much better. Thanks," I replied, laying an appreciative hand on the apprentice's shoulder. I was still not feeling completely well, but was no longer in danger from collapsing in a heap. I decided that I was glad Merrill was with me. Had I set out on my own, I would probably lying in a ditch by the side the of road by now.
"You are welcome. So where is this room that you and Tamlen found the mirror in?"
"Just down here," I said, walking down the incline leading into the first chamber with steadier legs. I proceeded as cautiously and quietly as I could, not wanting to alert the spiders and anything else that was down here of our presence. I chuckled humourlessly to myself. Had I been as wary the first time around, we probably would not even be in this mess. And I wouldn't have become infected with whatever was sucking away all my strength… Which was starting to worry me. I could literally count the number of times I had been sick on the fingers of one hand, and my parents, when they had been alive, had always remarked on my remarkable constitution. And while it had been impressed upon me that I had very nearly died, shouldn't all that magic that had been pumped into me eradicated the last traces of whatever it was that was still effecting me?
"So these are the ruins?" asked Merrill in wonder as we came upon the statue of the Arlathan goddess, still staring serenely at nothing in particular. "This is definitely of human origin," she continued, moving up to examine the figure and the surrounding wall art in more detail. "Yet there are elven artefacts scattered amongst them. See this rock carving behind the statue? Our ancestors used motifs like this…"
"Could we maybe examine the crumbling architecture after we found Tamlen?" I interjected. My initial awe at this place was now merely a dim memory, obscured by worry and doubt. I just wanted to find Tamlen and get out of this place.
"Yes, of course," replied Merrill hastily, looking slightly sheepish. "Your friend is our primary responsibility, after all. Though I would love to come back here and examine these ruins in more detail. They may hold vital clues to our heritage. Even from a cursory examination, I think it is safe to say that you have stumbled upon a find that could rewrite our history."
"That significant, huh?" I mused without much enthusiasm as we moved towards the room with the mirror. The door stood ajar and inside I could see a tall man dressed in armour of an unfamiliar style, standing in front of the accursed mirror. Sensing us approach, he slowly turned around. His deep-set grey eyes widened in surprise when he saw me.
"You're the elf I found while wandering the forest." It was more of a statement than a question. "I'm surprised you have recovered." His burrows furrowed, deepening the lines that etched his face. He appeared to be neither old or young, yet there was something about his stance and voice that indicated that he was a man who had seen a lot and was rarely surprised.
"So you're Duncan, the Grey Warden who saved me. I'm Feylin. I guess I owe you my life," I replied, deigning him with the elvish bow of respect. This man was of a completely different cut than the villagers Tamlen and I met in the woods, and since he had saved my life, I figured I should be polite.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you," he responded, bowing his head. "Do not feel that you owe me anything in exchange, though. The fact that you are alive is compensation enough for me, miraculous as it may be."
"Good thing I didn't cheat you by dying then," I replied, my silvery tongue making an appearance.
Merrill chose this moment to step forward and introduce herself. No doubt she thought that my comment had been way out of line. But I was pleased to see that the Grey Warden looked mildly amused by my remark. "Andaren atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I am Merrill, the Keeper's apprentice."
"Your Keeper did not send you after me, did she?" asked Duncan, looking suddenly concerned. "I told her I would be in no danger." Yes! Finally a kindred soul who felt the same way about adventuring as I did! I liked Duncan already…
"We're looking for Tamlen, one of our brothers," explained Merrill.
"So you and your friend both entered this cave?" asked Duncan, focusing on me intently. "And you saw this mirror?"
"Yes… Tamlen was strangely drawn to it. I told him not to touch it, but…"
"I see…" replied Duncan forlornly. "That is…unfortunate."
"Why?" I asked, a lump already forming in my throat.
"The Grey Wardens have seen artefacts like this before. The mirror is Tevintan in origin, used for communication. Over time, some of them…break. They become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Your friend's touch must have released it. It's what made you sick. And your friend too, I presume."
"Can it be repaired?" asked Merrill, casting her eyes towards the mirror with interest.
"Unfortunately, no. It will taint whoever comes near it."
"I do not fear this sickness," replied Merrill adamantly. "The Keeper was able to cure Feylin, after all."
Duncan was shaking his head even before Merill had finished speaking. "She may have been able to weaken it, but she does not know how to cure it. I do not doubt your Keeper's powers, but there are dark forces at play here that not even her magic can overcome. Your recovery," he continued, turning to me, "is only temporary. I can sense the sickness in you, and it is spreading."
"Does this mean I will turn into a darkspawn?" I asked, my voice coming out as a squeak.
"Eventually, yes," came the impassive response. I gulped. "But there may yet be time to cure you."
"But I though you said that this illness was incurable…"
"I never said that. Only that your Keeper does not have the power to cure you. But we can discuss this back at your camp. First, however, we must deal with this mirror. It is a pestilence and a threat. We cannot allow anyone else to succumb to its taint."
Drawing his sword, Duncan moved towards the mirror. Whatever was inside must have sensed his intent for the glass began to glow and swirl in an angry shade of crimson. Some kind of whispering seemed to fill the air, and I could feel whatever it was that was tainting my blood awaken in response. It felt as if it was reaching out to the mirror, drawing me closer, seeking reunion. I took a shaky step forward…
"Feylin!" Merrill's voice cried from beyond the roar of my blood in my ears as I continued to move towards the mirror. I was vaguely aware of the fact that my swords had appeared in my hands, as if by magic, and their deadly tips were pointed at the Grey Warden's exposed back.
Kill the infidel, a dark voice prompted. It seeks to destroy our mirror. Kill him!
I was powerless to disobey, even though a tiny part of my mind screamed in protest. This man had saved my life! You are not yourself! Do not listen to the voice! But it seemed the harder I fought, the stronger the pull of the nameless thing inside me became. It coaxed me on with honeyed tones that chilled my soul and sucked away at my resistance, feeding off it like a leech. I felt myself growing weaker and weaker even as my steps became surer and surer.
The Warden was in front of the mirror now, raising his sword, completely oblivious to my approach. I raised my own weapons, but was grabbed from behind by an offending hand. Turning around with a snarl, I swatted the feeble creature away like an irksome fly and turned my attention back to my target.
But that moment of distraction had been enough. The Grey Warden's sword had come crashing down on the surface of the mirror. The glass shattered into a million pieces and my scream mingled with the ear-splitting screech of the mirror as the darkness inside it ceased to exist. A blinding flash of light filled the room, burning me, burning the thing in me, and I felt myself falling, falling…
When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by two concerned faces.
"Oh, thank the Creators!" cried Merrill in relief, throwing her arms around me. I could see Duncan was less impressed. He regarded me with a gaze that was anything but relieved. In fact, he looked seriously unnerved.
"W-what happened?" I asked hoarsely, trying to sit up.
"The taint in you is stronger than I suspected. We must leave at once."
"But what about Tamlen?" I protested, getting shakily to my feet. The thing inside me was dormant for the moment, but I could feel its presence, ready to pounce at the smallest opportunity. I ignored it, concentrating on more important things. "I did not come all this way to..."
"I am afraid your friend is beyond our aid. If he was not killed by force in the mirror, then the taint would have surely consumed him by now. Whatever was in that mirror was more powerful than anything I have come across. Your friend stood no chance…"
"No! I refuse to believe that!" I cried, hot tears springing to my eyes. "I will find him!"
"Feylin." The unspoken command in Duncan's gravely voice forced me to turn around and look at him. "Think about how sick you were," he continued gently, laying a hand on my shoulder. "I can feel the taint within you, feeding on you, making you weak. I know you can feel it too. But you survived because you received aid in time. Your friend was not so fortunate. Now if you care for Tamlen as much as I know you do, you will not pursue him. It is better for everyone this way."
Heaving a massive sob, I managed to force out a nod, though I hated myself for it. Letting Merrill steer me towards the exit, I gazed back at the pieces of the broken mirror and knew that if I survived this, I would never be able to forgive myself. That I should live, at the expense of Tamlen, was an irony of fate too cruel to bear. I had brought this upon the two of us – I should be the one beyond hope! I should be punished for all this!
But as I emerged into the light of the afternoon sun, I realised that living with the consequence of my actions was a far greater punishment than dying. The living were the ones who had to carry the weight of the knowledge of what they had done, whereas the dead had no such burdens to bear. The living were the ones who had to remember, the ones who had to come to terms with what they had done. No, the living were punished; the dead were free…
