Chapter 3
If at first...
Hybris sat on his throne, impatiently thrumming his taloned fingers on the armrest. His throne- if you could call it that- was a grotesque melding of bodies into mass of limbs and flesh stretched and shaped into a chair-like structure. The appendages and mass constantly shifted to accommodate his form. It was a living anamorphous piece of furniture comprised of flesh and bone. Various limbs protruded at odd angles as if trying to escape their fate. A face pressed out from the melted flesh: its mouth agape in a silent scream of horror. Hybris gestured his hand at some of the ambers shards on the floor. Like reversing time, they flew into the air and reformed into the familiar crystals that had once adorned the chamber.
"Still cleaning up the mess, I see?" Purred a sultry voice. Aphrodisia sauntered into view, her hips swaying with exaggeration.
Hybris snarled at her, flashing his many teeth in a display of ire. "Begone! I am in no mood to tolerate your presence."
Aphrodisia tsked, running her fingers across the twisted flesh of the throne. "Not like a mortal to get the best of you." She drawled in a mockingly innocent tone. "What a pity to have such a lovely collection destroyed."
Hybris roared at her, taking a swipe at her head with his razor sharp claws. The desire demon tittered and danced out of the way with little effort. She floated back as safe distance, swishing her tail playfully as she watched the pride demon rage. On a rampage, Hybris picked up his throne and ripped it asunder. Screams of pain issued forth from the carnage as the souls within writhed in agony. He tossed the pieces aside while a few limbs twitched in anguish, blood and tissues spilling onto the floor in a wide puddle.
"I'm surprised you haven't gone after her." Aphrodisia teased. "After everything she cost you, I would think vengeance was your priority."
Hybris growled at her in warning. A not so subtle reminder not to test his patience. "Do not toy with me, wench! Do you think I haven't tried to locate her? Once the spell I cast faltered, the Fade threw her somewhere in the waking world, out of my grasp! I have my thralls searching for her, but who knows where she ended up?"
"Poor Hybris. And after you expended all that energy to keep her here too. You should have known that your spells would deteriorate. Her realm has no magic."
Hybris ignored her and continued to repair his precious crystals.
"I would advise you to have patience, however, that has never been your strong point. All you have to do is wait. These mortals have the need to sleep. When her spirit returns to the Fade whist she dreams, she should be easy enough to locate then." She said stepping cruelly on a grasping hand from one of the torn pieces of throne. She dug her heel in smiling as it squirmed in distress.
"How fragile they are." She marveled. With a quick jerk of her heel, she broke two fingers with an audible snap. "Then you break her. Simple."
Hybris grumbled, reassembling another crystal. "Do you think me a fool? If it was that easy, I would have her already. The mages that have made a pact with me informed me of a day's passing outside the Fade. I kept her without sleep until her body quaked. She should have slept already. I should be able to sense her if she enters the Fade, but it's like she's hidden from me! Like something is masking her presence!" He smashed the crystal he had just finished putting back together. The shards fell silently on the stone floor.
"I was so close to breaking her! She would have been mine and my collection would have been complete!" He howled.
Aphrodisia smirked. "And now you have nothing. Foolish pride." She chided.
He whirled on her roaring like a rabid beast. His claws grasped only air as he raked the area she had previously stood.
She reappeared behind him with a smug grin. "Such passion. Do not fret. I will help you find her."
Hybris whirled on her, teeth bared inches from her face. "Don't patronize me! I do not require your assistance." The last word came out more like a hiss than and actual word. "You do nothing if it doesn't benefit you in some way."
Aphrodisia chuckled, sensuously running her hands over her voluptuous body. "True. It would be wondrous to be owed a favor by the great Hybris. Plus, you are forgetting... she stole that which was mine. A staff of that power is difficult to come by. I would reclaim it."
"Yes." He sneered. "YOUR staff that allowed her to destroy my collection." He lashed out with impossible speed, grabbing her arms and dragging her closer to his slavering maw. "The only favor you get from me is your continued existence. You'll find her and return her to me, or you'll take her place once I restore my crystals."
Aphrodisia just smiled slyly. "As you desire."
There were thousands. Hundreds of thousands. She could feel them all, like tiny pinpricks of corruption moving underneath the earth. They were a pathogen plaguing the world for eras as they slowly consumed and destroyed everything they touched. She saw them all surge beneath the crust of the world. Torches and weapons illuminating the dark as they marched on and up. Oh gods! They were going up. Up to the world that shrank from their contact.
The darkspawn cheered: a wordless primal cry full of lust and destruction. They thrust their weapons skyward as their perverse god flew overhead. The dragon landed with a heavy thud on an exposed archway. The magnificent beast arched its neck and sent a jet of flame into the caverns. For a brilliant moment, it pierced the gloom, illuminating the awaiting horde below. The horde surged restlessly against the cavern walls the held them at bay, eager to spill blood. The dragon roared a command at them causing them to quicken their pace through the trenches towards the surface.
Urthemiel opened its mouth and screamed. The terrible din shook the very earth. Gods! Gods! It was talking to them! It called to her!
"Join…me…. Salvation … thru destruction."
In both her dream and the real world, Mallory screamed.
"Maker's breath!" a masculine voice stated in either shock or horror. "How was she able to stand!? It's a bloody mess."
"At least she stopped screaming," said a female voice with an accent. "Poor thing. She must have been through so much. Darkspawn and then bandits. It's a miracle she's alive."
"Where did she come from? The Wilds? There are no towns that far south that I know of. Just Ostagar and the Chasind. Maybe she's a barbarian?"
The voice's volume waivered as Mallory drifted in and out of consciousness. Still unable to open her eyes or move her body, she focused on the senses that were working. Sorta. Everything she experienced was hazy and filtered as if she was suspended in a body of water, floating just below the surface. She was lying on something hard and cold. Stone perhaps? No… wood. She felt the wood grain press into her skin. She was naked save some coverings protecting her modesty. There was… singing? Yes, singing of some sort… No. Not singing. Chanting. Like some New Age CD was being played in another room. Pain. There was pain. A great deal of it radiating from every inch of her body, especially her leg. Her leg. What did the voice mean it was a mess? What was a mess? She couldn't remember. Not quite. The memory darted from her mind like an elusive wisp. She tried to retrieve the memory and her consciousness lurched threatening to send her back to oblivion.
She felt a surge of panic as an unknown hand brushed her leg. It alarmed her enough to stop her head from swimming and give her something to refocus on. She felt a cooling sensation as something was spread upon her leg and abdomen. There was still pain, but it was subsiding. A strange almost minty smell wafted near her nostrils. Mallory's heart skipped a beat. Panic gripped her as she recalled the scent: The herbal mixture Hybris had forced her to drink. The smell was fainter, as if lesser potent, but the same tonic. For a second she was back in the Fade, fighting for her life. Her mind shuddered as she fought the overwhelming sense of fear and despair. NO! NO! Not back there! Not with him! Please! She saw him in her mind's eye, standing before her with his broken perverse smile as he proudly held up a bottle healing herbs. She felt nothing but dread as she anticipated the same ritual she had been forced to endure time and time again. Gritted her teeth, she waited for his fingers to roughly pry open her jaws and force the liquid down her throat. Unable to move and trapped in her own memory, Mallory whimpered in terror.
"Careful." The woman whispered in empathy. "She must be in so much pain."
"I never thought I'd actually say this, but I wish there was a mage about." Said the male. "With injuries this severe I doubt these lesser injury poultices will do little other than patch the wound. I'm not sure she'll ever be able to walk again."
"Have faith, Ser Maron. With the Maker's Grace she will recover. We will do the best we can with what we have."
"Of course, Sister Leliana."
"Besides, you don't want the Revered Mother hearing you say that." Leliana replied in a teasing manner.
Ser Maron swallowed a laugh at his companion's comment. With a gentle touch someone began to bandage her wounds. Mallory wanted to scream at them: tell them to stop touching her. Panic consumed her as she heard and registered the voices, but didn't want to believe they were real. Don't fall for it! It's a trick! Hybris just conjured this… all of this to deceive you. The escape, the bandits, the rescue… everything was a lie! You're still stuck in the Fade. He's trying to break you. Her shattered mind shouted at her. She tried to will her unresponsive body to move, but it ignored her commands. Her eyes were leaden and her limbs immobile. Her mind howled in frustration. Focus! He's unaware that you know of this deception. Use is to your advantage and strike now!
Taking a deep breath, she approached it from a different angle. Instead of focusing on her body as a whole, she concentrated on just her fingers on her right hand. Ignoring the bantering and ambient sounds around her, she willed her fingers to twitch. They moved less than a quarter of an inch. Another deep breath and another try. And again. Once more. This time splaying her fingers wide. As they came in contact with cold steel, she flinched. Reaching out again, she probed the object trying to discern what it was while her caretakers were oblivious. When her hand wrapped around the twisted hilt of the maul, she was filled with a sense of security. Though she did not immediately recognize the weapon as the one she used to kill the bandits, she knew what she had in her hand was dangerous. A sadistic glee filled her. She was going to make him bleed. For every drop of blood he spilt, she would return the favor. She focused all her anger, all her righteous fury. It made her blood boil as hatred and rage permeated every fiber of her being. It gave her power she otherwise didn't have. She waited for him to approach as she marshaled her strength and took short shallow breaths. There. A footstep. The shuffling of iron on stonework.
"Ser Maron, watch-"
The warning from the sister almost came too late. If not for the bright lights blinding her and the sister's forewarning, Mallory's swing would have taken the templar's head from his shoulders. Mallory sat up from the table they had laid her on and viciously struck at the nearest moving object. The blow missed the man's face by a thin margin, sending his tawny hair aflutter from the breeze generated by the hammer. Ser Maron staggered backwards in shock even as he reached for his sword. Too his surprise, Leliana placed a firm hand on his, pushing the blade back in the sheath. Mallory snarled at the vague blobby shapes that surrounded her. She blinked rapidly to try and refocus her eyes, but could only discern vague shapes and colors. Her grip on the maul tightened as one slowly approached.
"Stay back, demon!" She growled at the approaching figure. She maneuvered her legs around to the edge of the table and attempted to stand. When she put weight on her injured leg the pain was so fierce it nearly knocked her unconscious again. She screamed in agony and grabbed onto the table for support, careful not to lose her hold on her weapon. The sound of doors bursting open grated on her nerves, agitating her further. Two other figures entered the room, well armored by the sound of all the metal clanking.
"Sister Leliana! Is everything-"
"Everything's fine. Go back to your post."
Mallory shook her head trying to clear her vision. The figures sharpened a finally as her eyes adjusted to the light. She saw the two knights that had come in the room with their weapons drawn.
"Stay away!" She screamed. "I know your tricks! I'll never agree to your terms! Never!"
To emphasize her point she choked up on the handle and dared to take a step toward them. Without the support of the table, her leg gave way sending her crashing to the floor with a yowl. Panting and doing her best to ignore the agony, she snarled at them from the ground, intent on making a last stand.
"There's no need for that." Came the soothing voice of the one called Leliana. "These gentlemen were just leaving. Isn't that right?"
The first knight hesitated for a bit then retreated through the doors followed by the other one.
"You too, Ser Maron." Leliana said.
"But-"
Leliana made a shooing motion and the man called Ser Maron reluctantly went thru the doors as well. When the heavy Chantry doors clanked close, Leliana took another step towards the prone woman.
"Not another step!" Mallory hissed.
"Come now. There is no need for this." Leliana replied in soft, understanding tone. "I know you are hurting and confused, but we are here to help you. Do you remember the bridge?"
Mallory looked away, suddenly ashamed without understanding why.
"Shut up! Stop it!" she said. "None of your lies! None of your tricks!"
"It is not a lie, though I wish by the Maker's Grace it was. I saw those men… what they did to you. I'm sorry I could not reach you in time."
Flashes of memory resurfaced in her mind. Emotions and sensations came rushing back to her all at once. Their rough hands and harsh breath as they used her. The shame and humiliation she felt. The rage that had consumed her as they hurt her. The elation that she experienced as she put them down like dogs. She squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling of warm wet blood splattering her face as she killed them. It trickled down her cheek causing a single drop to fall on her hand. Mallory opened her eyes, surprised to see it wasn't blood, but a tear that had struck her palm. They streamed down her cheeks, unbidden. She startled a bit when she turned her head and saw Leliana kneeling a few inches away; she hadn't heard a sound as the women approached.
"Shh." The woman softly whispered. She fished a kerchief from her pocket and handed it to Mallory. Mallory gazed at it dumbly for a second before taking it from the Sister's outstretched hand. She dried her eyes with the cloth and returned it to Leliana.
"I-is this real?" She asked, not daring to hope. "Did t-that really happen?"
"Oh, you poor dear." Leliana said. "I am so sorry for what you have been through. Yes, it did happen, but you are safe now. Those men can no longer harm anyone."
"A-are they dead?" Mallory stammered, seeing visions of the maul crushing bone and sending the bandits flying. "All of them?"
"Yes."
"Good." Mallory stated her features hardening. Her fists tightened around the grip of her hammer. She had never taken a life before, but she would not waste regret on offal like them. If she hadn't killed them, they would have just hurt some else in her place. Another memory. A woman with a bow. Red hair that looked like live fire in the sunset. An arrow cutting through the air and ending a life that would have snuffed her own.
"It's Leliana, right?"
"Yes." She replied in her heavy accent. "And you are Mallory. You told me before you lost consciousness."
"Y-You.. you saved my life." Mallory looked at the woman in astonishment. Now that her vision had cleared, she could see she was still dressed in robes. The man had called her Sister. Is she a nun? If so, where did she learn to shoot like that?
"I didn't mean to attack your friend… I thought.." I thought you were a demon trying to steal my soul. She didn't dare finish her sentence, but let it trail off not knowing what else to say.
Leliana gave her a quick smile and offered her a hand up. "Think nothing of it. No harm done. Besides, you should have seen the look on his face when you sat up. He thought you wouldn't make it with your injuries, but me, I knew you were a fighter."
"I don't know about that." Mallory muttered, taking the sister's hand. The pain was excruciating as she hauled herself off the floor. She looked down in horror at the mangled mess that used to be her right knee. The flesh had healed, but severe scarring was evident. The knee was..off.. somehow. Like an abstract artist had played surgeon with her joint.
"My leg."
Leliana glanced down in sorrow. "I'm sorry. We did the best we could, but with the Darkspawn approaching supplies are limited if not nonexistent. Some kind soul donated a few poultices, but we had to use most of them on the wound in your stomach to save your life. Once we got that patched up, there was only one left to use on your leg. We were able stop the bleeding and close the wound, but it was too weak too fully heal the damage."
She gingerly tested it and was rewarded with further pain and a nauseating sound as bone grated on bone. He said I'd never walk again. What if it's true? What if I spend the rest of my life crippled? Fear gnawed at her stomach as she though about her injury. No! I WILL walk again. I may limp, but I will not let it stop me! Stopping her fear spiraling out of control, she resolved to recover her mobility no matter how much it hurt.
"You did more than most would. It would seem I owe you twice. I'm not quite sure how yet, but I will repay you… for your kindness and my life."
"Oh?" Leliana smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "While you are racking up debt with me, what else can I do for you?"
Mallory looked down at her naked body, still smeared with herbs though much of the blood and dirt had been removed.
"How much would a hot meal and a set of clothes set me back?"
She wasn't surprised when Leliana laughed. She was surprised, however, to find that after a few seconds, she laughed with her.
Mallory gritted her teeth as she forced herself to walk across the Chantry courtyard and over the stone bridge that led to the fields. She hiked up the hem of the Chantry robe Leliana gave her and focused on putting one leg before the other, ignoring the now familiar grating sound her knee made and the anguish that went with it. Well, I won't be sneaking up on anyone anytime soon. She thought with levity. The pain was still present, but not nearly as bad as when she had first started. Her first attempt had ended with her on the ground writhing in misery. It had taken many more tries and using her maul as a cane before she was able to walk a few feet. Thru will and determination alone, she spent the last few days acclimating to the injury and learning to walk without support. Now, her maul was firmly strapped on her back: a weapon and no longer a walking aid as she limped through town. She smiled as its weight shifted as she moved. It was a comforting feeling to have it with her, like having a guardian angel watching her back. She knew that such thoughts were silly, but having the weapon made her feel secure when the memories of her assault and torture resurfaced. Just holding the maul in her hand and knowing she had the ability to fight back gave her some peace, even if it didn't completely help. She never let it leave her side, even sleeping curled around the handle to try and keep the nightmares at bay.
Five days had passed since she had awoken naked and terrified in the Revered Mother's office after being tended to by Ser Maron and Leliana. Since then, she had spent her time doing what chores she could around the Chantry to earn her keep. Her last few days were spent cataloging the Revered Mother's personal collection of books and artifacts and preparing them for travel. Bit by bit, the templars were packing up the Chantry to escape the oncoming horde of Darkspawn. Mallory was shocked that her dreams as of late were relevant to actual events. She kept it to herself, but actively sought an explanation in the books that lined the Chantry's walls. In her free time she had poured over the many tomes, learning as much as she could about the world she was in. She had read about the Orlesian occupation, the Chant of Light, Ferelden history and culture, the mabari: she had even found a worn text stuffed between two bookshelves describing the fierce Qunari warriors. She was quite literally burning the midnight oil: sitting on her bedroll amidst the other refuges and reading until her single candle burnt out. What she couldn't find out by reading she subtly asked Leliana about. It was from her, she learned the Chantry's version of Darkspawn and their origins. She wisely choose to keep the details of her encounter with the Hurlock secret, afraid they would think she was blighted and refuse her shelter or aid.
She passed the local inn, Dane's Refuge, on the way to her destination. Casting a quick glance at the building, she made a mental note that Leliana was expecting her soon. They were going to meet for a drink there after she finished her task. A quick smile flitted across her face. She liked Leliana. The woman was as kind as she was beautiful, but it was her quick wit and charisma that impressed Mallory the most. When she spoke, the whole room listened rapt with attention. She told the most wonderful tales with such passion that it made you feel like you were witnessing the events described. And when she sang the Chant of Light. Her voice was so beautiful and melodious that some swore she was touched by their god, the Maker. They had become friends in a short time, almost like they shared some secret understanding. At first, it had alarmed Mallory. She had thought about deterring the woman from reaching out to her. She was too scared to trust anyone or let anybody too close. Leliana never pushed though and seemed to know when she needed to be alone. Through saving her life and helping her walk again, she they had slowly established an easy going relationship that was becoming a steadfast friendship.
Mallory's quite reflection was disturbed as she got closer to the prisoner. Two young boys were throwing rocks at the caged Qunari. The stoic giant just stood there as the rocks bounced off his chest. His eyes were closed as he recited something in a foreign language. A jagged rock struck his cheek drawing a thin line of blood down his chin as the boys snickered in delight.
"Hey!" Mallory yelled, quickening her pace despite the protesting of her knee. "Get out of here!"
The children took one look at her and ran screaming back to camp. "The Chasind Barbarian! Run! She'll smash us to bits."
Mallory rolled her eyes. Apparently some details of her encounter with the bandits were being spread around town and GREATLY exaggerated. Probably by the same jerks that were placing bets on when the Qunari would die of exposure. Almost overnight she had become the Chasind Barbarian. She had let it go, thinking it was better they believed she was from the Wilds then knowing the truth. She hadn't thought about the ramifications, though she was secretly pleased with them. It allowed her to ask questions without being scrutinized too hard. Also, the people thought she was dangerous and gave her wide berth. She preferred it that way since they made her tense but it caused some complications too. She had already had a heated argument with the templars about her maul. Apparently she made them nervous since she had nearly decapitated Ser Maron. They had ordered her to surrender her maul and that would have gotten very ugly if Leliana hadn't stepped in. Mallory sighed in frustration as she continued on her journey. She stopped in front of the cage and silently waited for him to finish his prayers- or whatever it was he was doing.
Sentenced to die by the Revered Mother for the unprovoked murder of two families, the strange man had been imprisoned and had lasted almost three weeks without food or water. Mallory had been appalled when Leliana had told her his story; both at his crimes and his treatment. While she believed in justice, leaving someone to die from the elements or be eaten by Darkspawn seemed a bit extreme. Then again, if she could do the same to Hybris she might have a different opinion on the matter. Once she was able to walk a reasonable distance, she had made it her personal mission to at least bring him water every day. It gave her a goal and forced her to walk without focusing on the pain, plus she was curious about him. She wanted to question him about what she had read about and the events that caused him to wind up in that prison. After a moment, the Qunari stopped his verse and sighed in exasperation at her presence.
"And you have returned." He said with his eyes still closed. "Why do you continue to vex me? Have you nothing better to do with your time?"
Mallory smirked. "I wasn't aware bringing you water was vexing? Shouldn't I be the one vexed since you have refused me twice now? And, yes. I do have other things to do. Like scare small children apparently. So, will you take the water so I can get back to that?" She thrust the cup forward waiting for him to take it.
The Qunari opened his eyes and snorted in frustration. "Parshaara! Do you never give up?"
"Not really, no. I'm told stubbornness is part of my charm."
"Charm? Hmm…Perhaps my grasp of your language is not as fluent as I believed. I thought that word had a different meaning than the context you are using it in." He muttered.
Mallory sighed and put the cup of water on the ground within reaching distance. She would return later in the evening to collect it, probably still full, just as she had done the last two days. This Qunari apparently had a death wish. He had refused to drink the water she brought each time though his lips were dry and chapped with thirst. Or maybe he hated charity? Who knew? She couldn't figure him out and every time she asked him questions he would deflect them or ignore her.
"You are a frustrating man, you know that?"
"Yes."
Mallory just stared at him in disbelief. She was five seconds away from throwing rocks at him as well. "Fine!" She threw her arms up in a gesture of futility. "I can lead a horse to water, but I can't make it drink."
He gave her an odd look. "I fail to see what livestock has to do with this."
"I- It's an idiom. Nevermind!" she sputtered in resignation motioning to the cup. "Water. Drink or not. Why do I even bother?"
She turned to go when he spoke to her.
"Why ARE you doing this? Surly your Chantry disapproves?"
Mallory crossed her arms over her chest and gave him an insulted stare. Truly, she had wondered that herself. The book she had found on the Qunari had been vague and obliviously written from a very biased perspective. She wasn't quite sure how much of it was to believe. It had mentioned them as being fearsome warriors with strict codes of honor. While she supposed concepts of honor could vary from one culture to another, something about his story didn't add up. According to Leliana, after the carnage, he hadn't fled or resisted in any way. He had waited to except his fate. Even now, she was sure those bars wouldn't restrain him if he really wanted to be free. It didn't make sense. She wanted to know more about him. She had never met another race other than the demons and her own, and given the most recent events, she wasn't too impressed with either species. There was more to it than that though. She could already feel herself spiraling into bitterness, hatred, and general paranoia; a natural response to the trauma and a means of self preservation. She wanted to close of her heart and cease any meaningful contact with anyone to protect herself. She was wary even of sweet and gentle Leliana. In her mind she constantly questioned the sister's motivations could not shake the feeling that she was hiding something from her. Mallory had hoped that doing even one act of kindness even if it was for someone that didn't deserve it, would restore some of her previous innocence. Of course, the stupid Qunari wasn't exactly cooperating and she was beginning to regret her decision. She had to admit she had never even fathomed that he may refuse her kind deed. In the end, she gave him the only answer she could. : The truth.
"I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. Because this is who I am. I don't care what the Chantry thinks. I've spent most of my life listening to what others believe and I think it's time I thought for myself. Also, it's good exercise, both psychically and in futility it would seem. I wanted to learn more about you but apparently I'm a masochist for continuing this conversation. There! I've answered your question. How about answering one of mine? What's your name? Why did you wait for the guards to arrest you? Why didn't you resist when they did? Why are you still in that cage? Why not bend the bars and escape? Why didn't you run when you had the chance?"
"To what end? Perhaps the better question is why are you not caged? These people seem just as afraid of you as they are of me."
Mallory looked down at her crippled leg. She thought about all the imitations it set for her. All the things she would never be able to do again without pain or resurfacing memories of how the injury occurred. How everyone who saw her limp would either consider her weak or pity her. People would doubt her capabilities or overlook her for simple tasks. One event would shape her life and her future forever.
"Who says I'm not?" She replied as she began to limp away. "Not all cages are made of steel."
She got about half way to the inn before he decided to respond.
"I am Sten of the Beresaad." He shouted proudly, his deep baritone voice resonating in the air.
Mallory stopped in her tracks for a moment. She turned to Sten and gave him a respectful nod of acknowledgement before continuing on her way with a victorious smile on her lips.
Alim Surana looked over the quaint town called Lothering with disgust. It was bad enough he had to traipse through the woodlands for a week with that idiot Alistair in tow, but now he had to go through this hovel too! He shot a passing glance at the dark beauty at his side. As cruel as she was powerful, Morrigan had made the trek less of a burden, especially with her interesting taste in clothing. His eyes discreetly traced the curve of her breast as she watched the road behind them. He sneered in loathing as he heard his lumbering templar companion finally catch up to them. Alistair jogged unsteadily towards them followed by that mongrel that insisted on trailing them even after Alim had tried to chase it off.
"If I didn't know any better," Alistair panted running up to Alim's side. "I'd think you were trying to leave me behind."
The mabari gave Alistair an "are you daft?" stare and barked.
Morrigan cackled sadistically. "We now have a dog and Alistair is still the dumbest one in the party."
"Heyyyyy.." Alistair whined, causing Alim to contemplate setting him on fire.
As Morrigan and Alistair swapped insults, Alim lost himself in his thoughts. Eh.. two dogs nipping at my heels that I can't get rid of. Why did I leave the Kinloch Hold again? Oh.. yeah! Because that idiot Jowan had to fling all the templars about with blood magic and get me involved in his romantic drivel. Alim groaned internally at the memory of his so called friend. He had never much cared for Jowan, finding him far too cowardly and insipid. He tolerated the younger mage's presence merely because he liked having a personal errand boy and someone that practically worshipped the ground he walked on. As the years passed, Alim's talent had grown while Jowan had barely passed his tests. Just before his Harrowing, he had tried to rid himself of the apprentice, but like fleas on a dog Jowan clung desperately to a friendship that didn't exist. It had been such a relief for Alim to pass his Harrowing since it meant moving to the senior mage quarters and leaving Jowan behind.
Much to his surprise, Jowan had shown more mettle than he had originally believed possible. After having an illicit affair with a Chantry initiate -which was strictly forbidden- Jowan finally grew a pair and wanted to escape the Circle with his love. While Alim shared none of his friend's sentimental views, he could not deny the boldness of the plan. That and the desire not to become Tranquil. Jowan had approached Alim begging him for assistance in escaping. Of course, Alim had turned right around and told First Enchanter Irving in the hopes of elevating him status among the Circle. He was quite taken aback when Irving actually ordered him to HELP Jowan's escape attempt. So, he had done as he was told, if for nothing more than to be rid of Jowan once and for all. It was no surprise when they opened the basement doors to find a contingent of templars waiting for them. What DID surprise Alim was the fact that Jowan actually was a blood mage. The sheer raw power of his magic trumped anything Alim had ever known. With just a cut of his hand, Jowan had made fools of the templars and had them cowering on the tower floor. He had to admit, that display of power was both impressive and inspired a great deal of envy within him. Alim had studied diligently for years to hone his talent and to have Jowan of all people become more powerful than he was- well, it just added insult on injury. Imagine, being jealous of Jowan!
In the end, it hadn't quite worked out the way he had planned. Instead of being awarded with an elevated rank, more power, and special lessons, Alim had been forced into service with the Grey Wardens. That in itself had been a disaster. Due to a traitor within the King's ranks, all of the Wardens in Ferelden had been slaughtered in the battle of Ostagar except himself and Alistair. Since Alistair was a bumbling idiot with no spine, it left Alim to clean up a mess that he didn't care about with another Jowan-esk tag-a-long he resented more than the original. Alim groaned as the templar man-child whined about the loss of his mentor again. What was his name again? Doogan? Duncan? What ever his name had been it was irrelevant now: the man was Darkspawn fodder.
"Morrigan's right. He's dead. Get over it." Alim stated curtly, cutting off another whine from Alistair.
The templar managed look shocked, offended, and angry almost all at once. It was all Alim could do not to laugh in his face as the red rushed to Alistair cheeks making him appear like a disgruntled cherub.
"Well, then. What do YOU think we should do, Oh Great Leader?" Alistair said sarcastically.
"Why must I do anything? You're the Grey Warden here, not me. I'm just a victim of circumstance. I don't want to do any of this."
"Well, don't look at me. I don't know what to do!"
"Why am I not surprised?" Alim sighed. He turned his back on Alistair signaling the conversation was over. "Come, let's check out that horrid little inn first. I require a bath. I'm filthy. Though looking at this place, perhaps they do not even know what a bath is."
Morrigan chuckled at his comment and fell into step beside him. Alistair and the dog took their places in the rear of the party. They strode through the town looking very out of place. Everywhere Alim looked he saw nothing but weak, pathetic people that relied on others to support them. How do they survive? How do they even defend themselves? He wondered as he watched them scamper around like rodents.
"Ah, look how they moan and wail and gnash their teeth. 'Tis sad to watch how helplessly they scurry about." Morrigan observed, echoing his thoughts.
"You know," Alistair uttered thru gritted teeth. "These are good people that are trying to survive. They have lost everything. You could be a bit more sympathetic."
Alim and Morrigan shared a glance. Alim smirked wickedly. "We could, but why should we? If they were so concerned about their safety, they should have been born mages. At least then they wouldn't have to rely on others for protection."
Alim could almost hear Alistair's templar training kick in as he and Morrigan shared private laugh.
"Now see here-" Alistair began as a templar stepped in front of the party, blocking their way.
"You'll find no shelter here. We are full." The templar resounded in a tinny voice from the slit in his helmet. Standing in full plate mail, he seemed an imposing statue set to guard the villagers from harm. Of course, Alim wasn't impressed. He found full plate to be an excellent conductor of electricity and knew he could fry the templar in three seconds flat with his lightening.
"You would deny us entry?" he sneered haughtily. "Do not worry. I have no intention of staying in this squalor any longer than necessary. And I am fairly certain you people have nothing I want OR need."
The templar sighed and shook his head. "Very well, just stay out of trouble."
Alim brushed past him indignantly as they headed for the inn. He waited until he was just out of ear shot of the templar before he replied to himself.
"It's far too late for that warning."
"Mallory!"
Leliana waved earnestly as Mallory entered Dane's Refuge. Mallory was glad she did, otherwise she may have never found her among the crowd. As usual, the bar was packed solid with refuges, bards, Chantry members and mercenaries. She was somewhat relieved when everyone gave her wide berth: quickly parting before her like she had the plague. Maybe I do. She thought recalling the black blood that the Hurlock had soaked her with. Too disturbed by that thought, she pushed it away and forced a smile as she made her way to the bar.
Raucous laughter broke out from a group of men at a nearby table, drawing her gaze. The men were well armed and bore the crest of some Teyrn or another and were slamming down drinks faster than Danal could replace them. Mallory watched them for a moment, noticing how they kept glancing at the door and were pouring over some sort of missive they had weighted down with empty glasses. She took a quick peek as she waited for the bartender to get to her. From what she could tell, it vaguely resembled a wanted poster sporting the sketch of a dark haired elf. Mallory wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but by the tension in the air she guessed they were trouble.
"Too Loghain!" They toasted loudly. They clashed their drinks together with such force, ale splattered all over the table and dripped on the floor.
"Sodding ox lovers." Danal muttered under his breath as he took his place behind bar. He gathered up some of the empty mugs and began scrubbing them with a questionable looking rag. The broad smile he gave her as she approached was nearly overwhelmed by his handlebar mustache.
"Well, well. If it isn't the Chasind Barbarian?! What can I get you?"
She gave him a scornful glare. "Don't start Danal. Just an ale, if you please."
He winked at her and poured her an ale from the tap, setting it in front of her when she was done. She fished out the two coppers she had found while sweeping the Chantry floor this morning and slid them across the bar top as another burst laughter erupted behind her causing her to flinch involuntarily. Why did I agree to this? There are too many people and they are too close to me. Too close to touching me. It's too loud. I'm too vulnerable here. I shouldn't be here… She took a deep breath and a quick swig of her ale to try and rein in her escalating anxiety. She reached out and touched the hilt of her maul, comforted by its presence.
"Careful with your weapon, lass." Danal whispered as he noticed her reaching for it. "Those are Loghain's men and they are looking for a fight. No doubt searchin for any Grey Warden stragglers that survived Ostagar. The Teryn put a bounty on their heads."
Why would he put a bounty on the Grey Wardens? Mallory puzzled. From everything she had read and been told, the Grey Wardens were people that sacrificed their lives to stop the Darkspawn. All of the lore she had read portrayed them as noble warriors that stayed out of politics and brought people together to fight Blights that would otherwise ravage the lands.
"A bounty on the Wardens? Why?"
"Said it was they who betrayed the King and left em to die at Ostagar. I don't believe a word of it. My grandfather served and there was never a more honorable group of men and women then the Wardens." He replied gruffly. "Just be cautious lass. They are seasoned warriors, not bandits."
"Thanks."
Mallory finished her ale in a long gulp, shuddering as she slammed her mug down on the bar. This stuff wasn't like any draft back home and burned like hard liquor on the way down. It tasted strongly of hops and yeast and smelled like urine. The fact that it was room temperature didn't help its flavor either. She shifted her focus to Leliana who was also watching the group. Leliana stood with her back to the wall nursing ale that had long ago gone flat. She greeted had Mallory with enthusiasm, but the glint in her eye made it apparent something was up. She smiled warmly as Mallory joined her at the back wall.
"I am glad you came." She said in that exotic accent of hers. Orlesian. Mallory self corrected. She still had a hard time not thinking of it as French.
"Worried I wouldn't show and leave my hero all by herself?" Mallory teased.
Leliana scoffed in mock horror. "You wouldn't dare."
"Possibly." Mallory shrugged noncommittally. She wasn't able to stop the smile from sneaking across her face.
"You know, it is good to see you smile." Leliana replied taking a sip of her ale. "It is amazing how we can find the will to smile even amidst all this sorrow. Maker be praised."
Mallory just nodded politely. While she didn't necessarily believe in the Maker, she wasn't going to be disrespectful about Leliana's beliefs. She hadn't believed in the gods in her world and had no proof that this Maker existed here. It was interesting that a lot of the lore was similar to Christian lore. The sacrifice and martyrdom of an outspoken rebel who tried to free the people. It had made Mallory wonder about alternate realities and dimensions to the point it made her head hurt. She decided she would just go with the flow. After all, this world did have magic, so a benevolent magical man in the sky seemed a little more plausible here then on Earth. If the Maker did exist, however, and he left her at the mercy of Hybris… well, if they ever did meet, Mallory fully intended to have a lengthy discussion with him.
"Any luck with the Qunari?"
"I got his name. Sten of the Beresaad. A soldier in their army from what I have read. Didn't get much more out of him, other than the beginnings of a headache. He still refused the water I brought him."
"It speaks well of you that you tried. Most would not. You are a good person."
Mallory shrugged. She didn't feel like a good person. She felt angry at the world, hurt, and distrustful of everyone. Part of her wanted to be a decent human being while the other wanted to strike out at people to have them feel her pain. She felt torn between the person she had been and the one she was becoming. Even her desire to help the Qunari had been motivated by the selfish need to prove she was still human in some way.
"I- There's something I wanted to discuss with you. I know we have not known each other long, but I think I can trust you with this." She trailed off and fidgeted with her robe. Mallory raised an eyebrow at this. In the short time she had known Leliana she had never once seen the woman struggle with words. Whatever it was, it must be something tremendous to affect her so.
"I think the Maker wants me to help stop the Blight." She spoke with finality. "I-I know this sounds crazy, but I had a vision."
Mallory gave her a skeptical look thinking her leg was being pulled. Nothing but sincerity was evident on her features.
"You want to stop the Blight? How?"
Leliana smiled wistfully. "I don't know. The Maker, he works in mysterious ways. I tried to talk to the others, but they laughed at me. But you are not like them. I know you will believe me."
Mallory sighed. Talk about: Hey I just met, and this is crazy. Is she serious? She can't be..right? Isn't that a bit egotistical to think a god would pick you out of all the people of the world. Not that I'm sure getting messages from the Maker is a blessing. Didn't the last person who claimed that get burned alive? Arhhhh.. don't be disrespectful. She saved my life. I owe her. Even if it is crazy, she believes in it. Just tell her you'll help her, even if you have no idea how. You owe her that much.
"Well... will figure something out. No worries."
The relief on Leliana's face only lasted a second as the door to Dane's Refuge slammed open. Both turned to see who was responsible for the ruckus. In stepped an elf looking suspiciously like the sketch she had spied on the missive. His cheek bones were set high in his regally angled face giving him a rather haughty appearance. His charcoal colored hair was long and sleek, held back by two braids that framed his face. He was dressed in some ornate robes that look like they had seen better days and were now streaked with mud, what appeared to be blood, and had leaves sticking to the hem. He had three companions flanking him: a dark haired scantly clad woman, a baby faced man with a shield, and a large dog Mallory suspected was a marbari.
The elf walked over the threshold and loudly proclaimed. "Innkeeper! I require your best room and a bath in all haste!"
Every patron froze as his voice rolled over the crowd. They all stared at the newcomer: some with shock, some with amusement, and a few very angry. That was all Mallory was able to absorb before Loghain's men stepped forth and all hell broke loose.
"You may not want to go in there." The refuge stated, thumbing the door to Dane's Refuge. "Loghain's men have been tearing the place up looking for any surviving Wardens. Seems there's a hefty bounty for anyone who brings a Warden head back to Denerim. Over a hundred gold. Grief and fear have drove many a folk insane lately. Everyone's taking what they can to live without much to who gets hurt."
Alim sneered at the man. He hadn't asked for this fool's opinion. He had taken the most direct route to the inn specifically to avoid contact with these urchins.
"I go where I please." He snarled at the man.
"Kay. Don't say I didn't warn ya."
The refuge shrugged as Alim threw open the inn door. It banged loudly against the wall as the party entered the dingy room. Alim assessed the inn and frowned. It was not to his standards at all. Far too crowded, dirty, and full of rabble but he was tired, filthy, and his feet hurt so it would have to do. Walking for long distances was not done in the tower unless you wanted to go in circles and he had not adapted yet. He was fairly certain he was getting blisters.
"Innkeeper! I require your best room and a bath in all haste!" He shouted loudly unwilling to wade into the sea of peasants to find the innkeeper.
The bards at the top of the stairs stopped playing and the constant din tapered off until only the shuffling of feet and the occasional cough could be heard. A group of surly looking men got up from the nearest table and advanced on the party. A stout human male stood in front of Alim and gave him a once over.
"Well, look what we have here men. I think we've just been blessed."
"Uh oh, Loghain's men. Not good." Alistair muttered. Alim ignored him as he was prone to do.
"Ah, you must be the proprietor of this dump. I want your best room for myself and my lovely companion here. Ready a hot bath and the finest meal you have, not this slop you are serving everyone else." Alim indicated to Morrigan then glanced at Alistair as almost an afterthought. "Oh...yeah.. him.. and I guess get him a pallet on the kitchen floor or something."
"Hey, isn't this the elf we spent all morning looking for? And everyone said they hadn't seen em?" asked one soldier.
"Hmm.. looks like we were lied to." the commander stated.
Alim was about to say something when a gorgeous redhead walked up, interrupting his thoughts. She was trailed by a taller homely looking woman dressed in similar robes that had a maul awkwardly strapped on her back.
"Gentlemen, there's no need for trouble. These are just more refuges seeking shelter from the darkspawn."
"Stay out of this Sister, unless you wish to die like these traitors."
"Traitors?" Alim asked in an amused tone. "Perhaps they do not teach soldiers the proper definitions of words in the barracks? Just have to know which end of the sword goes into the other person, eh? I'll give you a tip. It's the pointy one."
"Silence cur! I was at Ostagar. If not for the teryn, we would have fallen with the King! I serve him gladly!"
"And yet here you are, ready to throw your life away on a fight you can't possibly win. How admirable! Tell me, is it a strategy of Loghain to save his enemies the trouble and have his men fall upon their own swords? Some kind of psychological tactic? Perhaps to confuse the enemy?"
"Enough!" The commander bellowed drawing his weapon. "Take the Warden into custody and kill anyone who interferes."
"Announcing that you are going to attack and losing the element of surprise." Alim jested, letting lose the fireball he had been preparing while the fool spoke. "Another impressive tactic from Loghain no doubt. It's a wonder it only took a centaury to expel the Orlesians."
The soldiers screamed as the magical fire rolled out of Alim's fingertips, consuming everything in its path. The commander was set ablaze instantly as the flames roiled over his scale armor fusing some of the pieces together. Despite the pain, he took an impressive swing at Alim that just missed the mage.
"Watch the spells!" Alistair screeched, bashing another soldier with his shield. "You could hurt a bystander!"
Alim rolled his eyes as he cast another fireball. Some collateral damage was anticipated in times of war and he certainly wasn't going to hold back because a few civilians might get hurt. Morrigan cast a hex on the next man that assaulted her while Dog latched onto his leg and gave it a vicious shake. Alim had just enough time to be surprised that the two redheads had joined the fray, before one of the soldiers broke from the formation and rush him. Bored now, Alim cast lightening and watched with glee as the blue arcs of electricity danced over the warrior's armor and caused his muscles to spasm. He was too busy enjoying watching the man squirm to see notice another man had flanked him. The pommel struck the Warden in the back of the neck, sending his staff flying from his hand and knocking him prone on the dirty floor. The soldier raised his blade to decapitate him when the head of the maul landed squarely in his back. The blow snapped his spine causing him to drop the sword and fall over almost on top of Alim. Alim scrambled out of the way and regained his footing, surveying the battlefield. The shorter Sister had just thrown a handful of dust into the eyes of one soldier and backstabed him in the kidney. The commander had finally put out the flames and was advancing on her. Just as he got within striking distance, the body of one of his men flew through the air and crashed into him sending him sprawling.
"Fore!" screamed the muscular woman, a crazed look on her face as she swung her maul around with abandon.
"Enough!" The pinned commander yelled. Most of his men were dead or too badly wounded to fight. "I yield! I yield!"
Alim retrieved his staff and pointed at the commanders face. A cruel smile spread across his thin lips as he reached within himself, summoning the mana he would require to burn the man to a pile of ash.
"Good," Said the Sister. "They have learned their lesson and we can stop fighting now. The Maker would grant mercy to his enemies."
Alim's grin grew exponentially. He did so love sacrilege.
"Good thing I'm not the Maker." He replied as he torched the commander. The smell of burning hair and flesh lingered long after his screams faded and there was nothing but a pile of ash on the charred floorboards.
"I-I suppose that was necessary." The Sister stammered as she gazed sorrowfully at the man's blackened remains. "May you go with peace back to the Maker."
"Necessity had nothing to do with it." Alim sneered. "Mercy is for the weak."
"I see." She replied. "I am Leliana. I know who you are. You're a Grey Warden, aren't you? You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? I am here to join your fight."
"Yes, yes. I'm glad I was able to save you. You may address me as Alim if you must." Alim replied arrogantly.
"Save me? I think I was able to handle myself."
"Whatever makes you feel better, honey. Where DID a Lay Sister learn to fight like that anyways."
"I was not always a Lay Sister. In Orlais I was a bard and traveled for long periods of time. One learns to defend oneself on the road, no? I am here to help you defeat the Blight. I wish to join you."
Alim raised an eyebrow. "Join me? Why would I want you to join me?"
"I can fight." She replied. "A-and there is more.. I.. the Maker wants me to help you."
"The Maker?" Alim asked dryly. "He, what.. told you to stop the Blight?"
"I know it sounds crazy, but I had a .. dream.. a vision! He wants me to help."
"Tis crazy," Morrigan replied. "Perception verses reality are two very different things.
Alistair shook his head glancing at the two mages. "I think we have plenty of crazy already."
"Look at the people here. They are lost to despair. The Maker doesn't want this. You are doing the Maker's work. Let me help!" Leliana begged.
Alim gave her a quick assessment. True, she did she to posse some skill with the blade and she was easy on the eyes. There was something mysterious about her and they way her azure eyes darted around the room taking everything in all at once. Alim may have taken her just as a bed warmer if it wasn't for the sanctimonious Chantry drivel she uttered. After all, having two lovely ladies in his party would be nothing to complain about, but Alistair was already preached more than the Grand Cleric and he didn't think he could tolerate another goody two shoes in the party. So, he did what he did best. He lied.
"Oh.. no. I'm terribly sorry. Those men were mistaken. I'm not a Grey Warden."
Leliana looked so crestfallen, Alim had to bite his tongue to keep his composure. Her large friend but a hand on her shoulder and scowled at him quite openly.
"Oh.. I-I thought. I-I'm sorry to trouble you then. My mistake."
"Yes, yes. Well, no harm done." Alim said, ushering the others out the door. "We all make mistakes. Well, we simply must be going. Darkspawn to evade and all."
He could not slam the door fast enough behind him. Outside, the sun was slowly descending, signally the end of another day to come. "I can't believe I actually miss the hold. Let's get out of here. The people in this town are insane."
When they had walked just out of earshot, he could have sworn he heard that smart ass refuge say. "Told ya."
