Chapter 7 – The Tower
Ceri drifted up from sleep to find Khan licking her face. When he saw her eyes were open the Mabari sat back on his haunches, tongue lolling from his mouth and tail wagging with unbridled enthusiasm. She groaned and pulled the blanket up to cover her head as Khan made an interrogative noise, halfway between a growl and a whine. When he got no response the dog snuffled at the blankets until he discovered that by covering her head, his mistress had left her feet exposed. Her shriek of protest as he started licking her toes startled him and he found his head engulfed in the rough blanket before he could even think of escaping. Ceri pulled Khan's face up to hers, the blanket wrapped round him like a headscarf.
"You're a horror," she told him, scrubbing his ears through the rough cloth. "What are you?"
Bored now. He darted forward and licked her face from chin to hairline. Time to get up and play, yes?
"Time to get up, yes," she said, kissing his nose. "Don't know about playing though. Maybe later."
When Ceri turned to her piled up armour she found that a clean vest and the linen underwear Aline had called 'smallclothes' had been left next to her leathers. She'd been rather surprised by how much like modern underwear the smallclothes were; apart from the rather rough design it might have been a bikini. Still the linen was soft and comfortable to wear and she lost no time in changing. She had just finished fastening the breastband when Alistair's voice filtered through the canvas.
"What's going on in there?"
"Nothing interesting," Ceri replied, her voice muffled as she pulled on the clean vest. "Khan decided it was time to get up, that's all."
"That's a relief," he called. "It sounded like you were fending off Darkspawn in there."
She hurried on the rest of her clothes, lacing up her armour as she left the tent. She found Alistair sitting by the fire, cleaning a curved blade with an oiled cloth. Ceri recognised it as one of the daggers Daveth had been trying to teach her to use. Had it only been two days ago? It felt like a hundred years. She felt her heart twist at the thought of her fellow recruits and sat heavily beside Alistair, gazing into the flames as Khan curled up at her side. He nudged her arm repeatedly until she lifted it to let him tuck his head into her lap.
Grey Wardens don't cry, she told herself. You are not a baby. You're a Grey Warden now. Behave like one. Grey Wardens don't cry.
"You'll need these," Alistair told her, handing the sheathed blades over.
Ceri stared at them, turning them over and inspecting the straps and buckles attached to the sheaths, unsure what she was supposed to do with them. Shaking his head, Alistair showed her how to fasten the straps around her waist so the daggers rode along her thighs, but didn't impede her movement. She didn't miss the way his face flamed when his hands brushed her legs and she wondered why he was so embarrassed. After all, touching her hadn't bothered him when he'd been chasing her round the fire the other night. She smiled as memory warmed her, helping her to push down the pain and sorrow until she had it screwed up into a tight little ball that she could put to the back of her mind.
"What's for breakfast?" she asked, hoping the change of subject would put him more at ease. "I'm starving."
"You missed it," he replied with a shrug. "I was going to wake you but Wynne threatened me with dire consequences if I did."
"Oh, right." Ceri frowned, feeling a little hurt at the careless tone. "What's for lunch then?"
"You missed that too. Wynne's fault really." Alistair glanced at her crestfallen expression and grinned. "It's lucky you woke up when you did. I was about to give up on you and eat this myself."
He handed her a lumpy object wrapped in thin cloth. Opening it she found a rough sandwich: thick slices of roast beef and cheese between two crooked pieces of bread. It was delicious. Ceri munched happily on the sandwich, ignoring Alistair's amusement at her enthusiasm. She couldn't quite pin-point why it tasted so good: the bread was on the stale side, the beef was burnt and the cheese was dry. But after two days of exertion on a little stew, some bread and two bowls of porridge it might just be the best thing she'd ever eaten.
"Here," Alistair said, passing over a steaming mug, "if it's anything like the one I had it'll be dry."
She inspected the contents with a critical eye, sniffing at the murky brown liquid before she would even consider tasting it.
After all, she thought, it was drinking something without asking what it was that landed me with a migraine last night. Not to mention feeling like I've about eight million spiders crawling around under my skin.
"It's not poison." Alistair frowned as she raised her eyebrows at him before taking a cautious sip. "Honestly."
That's a matter of opinion," Ceri retorted, pulling a face as she drained the mug. "It might as well be. I hate tea."
"If you hate it so much why did you drink it?"
"Because it's better than nothing," she shrugged, "even if it is vile."
The prickling burn under her skin became more pronounced, now she wasn't distracted by the rumblings of her stomach. Without thinking Ceri began to scratch her forearm but it didn't help. The more she scratched the worse the itching became until at last Alistair grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away roughly.
"Stop it," he exclaimed, "you'll make your arm bleed if you go on like that. What's wrong?"
"I can't stand it," she grated, scratching at her neck with her free hand. "It feels like bugs running under my skin."
"Well, flaying yourself alive isn't going to help." Alistair was holding both her wrists now, his calloused hands warm against her skin.
"It started last night," Ceri said, trying to relax and ignore the maddening sensation. It helped that Alistair was still holding her hands well away from anywhere she might think to dig her nails into. "When I drank the blood or whatever it was, everything felt like it was on fire. When I woke up it felt like something was wriggling round under my skin. Something with way too many legs for its own good."
"Right, I get it now," he nodded. "That itching is the taint. It's what makes us Grey Wardens."
"Why does that not fill me with confidence?" Ceri nodded and he released his grip on her wrists. She folded her hands in her lap and concentrated on keeping them there, no matter how tempting it was to start scratching at her arms again. "So basically I'm stuck like this forever? Great, that's just great. Knowing my luck people will think I've got fleas off Khan or something."
"It won't be this bad forever," he said, "I promise. You'll learn to ignore it eventually."
"Seriously? Cuz right now I just want to tear my skin off." She yanked her hand back down before her nails connected with her face. "How can you stand it?"
"Everyone feels it differently," Alistair said, wincing in sympathy. "After my Joining I felt like I was sitting too close to a fire the whole time, but it eased off after a while. Give it a couple of days and you'll get used to it. Won't she, Duncan?"
Ceri looked up to find the older man was standing nearby, a half smile on his lips as he watched them talk.
"Alistair is right. You will learn to ignore the taint in your blood, just as you will learn to use the skills it gives you."
She nodded slowly, trying to reconcile the memory of him running Jory through with the friendly presence before her.
"The King has requested your presence at our meeting Ceridwen," Duncan said, crossing to her and offering his hand to help her up. His smile faded as she flinched, her eyes flicking to his sword and then up to his face. "What is wrong?"
"Why did you kill Jory?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Jory was warned that there was no turning back but when he went for his sword he left me no choice. It brought me no pleasure to end his life." Duncan sighed and knelt beside her, his dark eyes kind as they met hers. "You were not volunteers, Ceridwen, the three of you were chosen because you were needed. Do you understand?"
Now he asks if you understand, said a sarcastic voice in the back of her mind. Might have been more to the point to ask that before pouring Darkspawn blood down your throat.
Ceri wanted to shout at them both, tell them that it wasn't fair, that she wasn't the girl they thought she was and she hadn't understood the implications of their precious Joining. What did she know about duty and sacrifice? To her sacrifice meant buying one dress instead of two so she could afford the shoes to match. Wars were fought so far away that they might as well be taking place on the moon for all the impact they had on her life. Now they expected her to smile and nod, to say everything was alright, of course she understood, we all have to make sacrifices right? Except the look in Duncan's sad eyes said louder than words that he didn't expect that. He understood that she was afraid and confused and he sympathised, but he expected her to be an adult, to get on her feet and take up the duty of a Grey Warden.
"That's why it's such a big secret, isn't it?" she asked, feeling sick. "Cuz people would run a mile if they knew what you've got to go through to be a Grey Warden. If you even survive at all."
"If only such secrecy were unnecessary," Duncan replied, "but the Blight demands sacrifices of us all. Thankfully you are still here as proof they are not all in vain."
The thing that scared her most was that he sounded sincere. There was no hint of a lie in his deep voice, he was glad that she had survived the Joining. Duncan got to his feet and offered his hand to her once more. This time she took it without hesitation, letting him help her stand. Khan jumped up, taking his now familiar position on her left side.
"Just so you know," she said, looking Duncan square in the eye, "this whole stupid situation sucks. What do we do now?"
"You come with me," he said. "We cannot keep the King waiting any longer."
She glanced over her shoulder at Alistair to find him watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was surprised how guilty he looked, like he'd been caught drop-kicking kittens into the Mabari pens and she wondered if he thought she was blaming him. Ceri suppressed the urge to hug him, as she would have done for any of her friends if she'd come upon them looking so forlorn, remembering how he'd blushed earlier when he'd helped her with the knives. Instead she touched his shoulder to get his attention.
"I hope you don't think this means you've dodged Darkspawn Slaying for Dummies," she said, with a wry smile. "As the designated babysitter it's your job to show me how to fight properly. Otherwise I'll be tugging on your sleeve every two minutes to ask if I'm doing it right."
He looked up at her, his forehead creasing into a frown.
"You're not serious?"
"I am too. If you don't show me properly I'll drag every Darkspawn I find over to you and make you watch until you're sure I'm getting it right." Her smile widened as he began to grin. "It'll be the most embarrassing battle of your life, I swear. Just think, all those Darkspawn standing in a queue, tapping their feet and wanting to know if it's their turn yet."
"Now that is a very disturbing thought," he said, looking happier, "and I wouldn't put it past you for a second. You'd better hurry though. If you don't Cailan will think you're not taking him seriously. Then he'll sulk and start crying. It won't be a pretty sight."
King Cailan was tall, blonde, handsome and so far as Ceri could tell, as thick as a brick. He seemed genial enough, greeting Duncan warmly as they approached. His smile had grown even wider when he caught sight of Ceri's slight figure, half hidden behind the tall Warden. He had congratulated her on being accepted as a Grey Warden and Ceri had to bite down on the angry words that welled up in her throat. She felt mouth turn down at the corners and she drew back behind Duncan, allowing his bulk to hide her until she could get herself back under control. It was hard to listen to him prattling about honour and glory when all she could think about was Daveth and Jory lying dead somewhere. She didn't deserve to be a Grey Warden; she was just a kid, not a fighter like Jory or a clever thief like Daveth. Glancing up she met the gaze of an older man standing near the long table covered with maps. She couldn't tell how old he was; to her eyes he was just 'old', falling into the same category as her teachers and other adults. But that couldn't disguise the fact that he had been good looking when he'd been younger, even the broken nose and dark circles around his eyes couldn't hide it. He was staring at her like he couldn't quite believe his eyes. It didn't surprise her; he was probably thinking the same thing everyone seemed to: what on earth is that child doing here? She straightened, her shoulders going back and her chin lifting. She might look like a child, might not deserve to be a Grey Warden but that didn't change the fact that she was one. Fortunately the man was distracted from his contemplation by the King's repeated enthusiasm for the coming battle. Ceri felt a surge of sympathy for him as he tried to persuade the King that putting himself in the front lines of battle was foolish and risky. Cailan was adamant however, if the Grey Wardens were going to be in the forefront of the battle then that was where he was going to be. Still he seemed to recognise the need to mollify his irritated companion, turning back to the maps and even managing to reign in his enthusiasm for the time being. The plan made sense to Ceri as she drew close to get a better look at the map: Cailan and the Wardens would take half of the army and meet the Darkspawn head on, while the rest of the soldiers would wait in hiding for a signal to attack from the rear.
"The beacon is here in the Tower of Ishal, yes?" Cailan asked, peering at the map. "Who shall light it?"
"I have a few men stationed in the tower," the older man replied. "It is not a dangerous task but it is vital."
"Then we should send our best," Cailan said, turning to Duncan. "Send Alistair and our new Grey Warden."
Ceri was caught between surprise, relief and amusement at his words. She was stunned that she'd just been included in the 'best' category, despite her appearance and the fact she'd only just become a Warden. She wondered what Lady Cousland was like, if the King would trust her with something like this. If nothing else she must be brave and a good fighter, probably smart too or Duncan wouldn't have wanted to recruit her. How long would it be before he accepted that Ceri was none of those things? She was just grateful that Cailan's desire for Grey Wardens to be in charge of lighting the beacon meant that she wouldn't be anywhere near the battle. She risked a glance at the King's companion. His eyes were narrowed and he looked like he might explode at any second.
"You put too much faith in these Grey Wardens, Cailan," he snapped. "Are you sure this is truly wise?"
"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain." He frowned, as though he couldn't understand why the older man was being so awkward. "The Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they're from."
Ceri had felt her nerves at the prospect of such a responsibility ease with the knowledge that Alistair would be with her. After three days she was already as comfortable with him as she was with friends she had known for years. They would be safer than they had been in the Wilds, she could see that from the map. The tower was in the ruins behind the camp and there would be an army between them and the Darkspawn. Then a disturbing thought occurred to her. What if Alistair resented being given baby-sitting duty? She'd been joking when she'd used the word earlier but that's what it was after all. When all was said and done she wasn't even a proper fighter, just a girl with a little skill at archery. But then what did this 'vital task' as Loghain put it actually involve? Lighting a signal beacon at the top of a tower? Ceri had read some history and understood the theory behind it: either at a pre-arranged time or pre-arranged signal the beacon would be lit, a nice big fire that could be seen for miles. It had to be at the top of the tower, that was only sense – no use in putting a beacon in the basement after all. From what she could see of the map the tower was well behind the defenders' line so it was unlikely to see any action and Loghain had said he had men stationed there so even if there was trouble, help would be close at hand.
"Um, excuse me?"
They all stared at her and Ceri thought she must look a comical sight, with her lower lip caught between her teeth and one hand raised hesitantly. At least Duncan and the King looked amused, Loghain looked more like he was about to swallow his tongue.
"What is it Lady Cousland?" Cailan asked.
"Well, if it's not dangerous in the tower, I could light the beacon myself. Your Majesty," she added, remembering who she was speaking to. She turned to Duncan, eyes wide in appeal. "Khan will be with me and there will be soldiers there too. I can do this, if you'll just give me the chance. There must be much more important things for Alistair to do than baby-sitting me."
Duncan shook his head but before he could speak Cailan interrupted.
"No, it's best that you both go." He sounded thoughtful, with none of his earlier brash enthusiasm. Then he smiled at her. "Do not take it as any slight on your own ability, my lady. I am sure you are more than capable."
"Ceridwen, return to camp and tell Alistair what has been decided," Duncan said. "I will join you shortly."
"So what did you think of Cailan?"
Alistair's question caught Ceri off guard as she trudged back to their small camp. She had been so deep in thought she hadn't noticed him leaning against one of the pillars at the top of the ramp leading down towards the quartermaster's tents. He frowned when she glanced up at him, her mouth turning down as she tried to think of the best way of telling him he was going to be stuck looking after her yet again. At least answering his question would delay the inevitable for a while.
"He's very... enthusiastic," she said, struggling for something diplomatic to say. In all honesty she wasn't impressed with Cailan. She found his careless attitude to the coming battle annoying, not to mention the fact that his decision would royally upset the one person who was willing to be her friend.
"Is that it?" Alistair asked. "Just... enthusiastic?"
"Alright," she snapped, nettled by the probing questions, "he's a prat. A vain, stupid, glory seeking, unthinking prat. Satisfied?"
"Come now, don't hold back," he laughed, "tell me what you really think."
"Well it's true," Ceri said, wondering if she sounded as defensive to him as she did to herself. "He's completely up himself. I felt really sorry for the old guy who was with him. At least he was trying to do something productive."
"Old guy?"
"Really old, like sixty or something," she said, "and it looked like he wasn't getting enough sleep. I think Cailan called him Loghain?"
"Teyrn Loghain, the Queen's father," Alistair nodded. "He's the general in charge of the army."
"Well that explains why he looked like he was going to have a fit every time Cailan started enthusing about the battle." Ceri shook her head, smiling as a funny thought occurred. "You know I think he honestly believes that the Darkspawn are going to come charging up to the line, skid to a halt and commit mass suicide in the face of his magnificence."
"That's Cailan for you," Alistair laughed, not meeting her eyes when she glanced up at him, "brave, bold and handsome. Wouldn't you say?"
"Strong, rich and thick are good traits in chocolate but not so much in men," Ceri shrugged, but underneath she was worried. There had been brittle note in that laugh that wasn't quite right and Alistair was watching her like her answer mattered far more than his careless tone implied. "And he isn't that handsome either. He's far too chunky."
"Chunky?"
He stared at her for a long moment and then doubled over laughing. Ceri grinned, pleased with his reaction to her honest statement. That was the good thing about being slightly mental, as Merrill put it. She said the first thing that popped into what passed for her mind and it usually tickled someone's sense of humour. They managed to get back to the tents without mishap, although Alistair stumbled a couple of times when his laughing fit got the better of him. He managed to pull himself together long enough to hand her a soft leather bundle. Examining it Ceri decided it was the approximate equivalent of a handbag: designed like a small satchel but with a belt rather than a shoulder strap. Inside were several small vials of red liquid like the one Alistair had brought her the night before and some tightly rolled bandages. Under these was a leather pouch filled with gold and silver coins and a tiny silver dagger no longer than her palm. She fastened the belt round her waist and sliding the bag to rest in the small of her back.
"Where did this come from?" she asked.
"Duncan gave me the bag to look after," Alistair told her, recovering his composure. "He said it was yours. Wynne brought the medicine and bandages. She said we'd probably need them."
"We?"
"Alright, me," he admitted. "Somehow she's got the impression that I get injured a lot."
"What would make her think that?" Ceri asked, settling her quiver in place and adjusting it so it didn't catch on the bag. She glanced up from stringing her bow to see that Alistair's ears had gone red.
"Probably because she's had to patch me up three or four times since we got here," he shrugged. "It happens, I'm used to it."
A cheerful bark from Khan announced Duncan's approach and it dawned on Ceri that she hadn't told Alistair the outcome of the meeting yet. With a guilty glance at Duncan she screwed up her courage and spoke.
"Alistair, I was supposed to tell you what happened at the meeting but I kind of, well, didn't," she said, blushing as he raised an eyebrow. "Sorry."
"Alright, now I'm curious," he replied, frowning. "Don't tell me the best plan they could come up with involves me distracting the Archdemon with my devastating wit while everyone else tries to kill it?"
"Not really no. Cailan said he wants us, you and me, to light some signal beacon at the top of the big tower thing on the edge of the ruins." Ceri winced as his face fell and hurried on. "I'm sorry, I really am. I tried to tell them I could go on my own. It's not fair that you keep getting stuck looking after me."
"It's not your fault," he told her, his voice tight with disappointment. "Is it true, Duncan? I'm not going to be in the battle?"
"This is by the King's personal request, Alistair," Duncan explained patiently. "If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."
"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch," Alistair snapped, "just in case."
"I still think Khan and I could do this," Ceri added, ducking her head as Duncan turned his stern gaze on her. "You need everyone you can get in the battle, surely?"
"That is not your decision to make," Duncan replied. "If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit then Grey Wardens will be there. We must do whatever we must to destroy the Darkspawn, exciting or no."
"I get it," Alistair sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Then his head came up defiantly. "Just so you know, if the King ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line, Darkspawn or no."
Ceri felt a snigger catch in the back of her throat and she struggled to keep her face straight but the mental image of Alistair's tall frame wrapped in a ball-gown was too much and she began to giggle.
"I don't know," she gasped, "I'd kind of like to see that."
"For you maybe," he said with a grin. "But it has to be a pretty dress."
"It'd be a great distraction," Ceri added, still trying to stop laughing. "Just picture it."
"What? Me shimmying down the Darkspawn line?" Alistair began to laugh outright. "I suppose we could just kill them as they roll about laughing, right?"
Ceri's amusement died suddenly when she caught Duncan's eye. The older Warden was frowning at them both and he gave a weary sigh.
"The battle is about to begin," he told them. "Get to the tower and wait for the signal to light the beacon. Alistair knows what to look for. You have less than an hour."
"The general said that it wouldn't be dangerous in the tower," Ceri said, feeling a chill run through her, like someone walking on her grave. "Everything will be ok, won't it?"
"Even the best laid plans can go awry," Duncan told her, "but I trust you both to do whatever you must. Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title."
"Duncan," Alistair called after him as he turned to leave, "may the Maker watch over you."
"May He watch over us all," Duncan replied.
Alistair led the way through the camp and Ceri had to run to keep up with Khan bounding along at her side. She had just decided to call out to him when he looked back and realised that her shorter legs couldn't match his pace. He slowed to let her catch up, favouring her with a tight smile as she drew alongside.
"Sorry," he said, as they cut across two lines of tents and out under broken arches toward the bridge leading to the tower. "I keep forgetting your legs aren't that long."
"I'm a short-arse, I know," she replied, raising her voice to carry over the racket as the battle got underway. "If it's too much trouble to slow down, you could always carry me."
His laugh was stolen by the roar of men and monsters below. Ceri could see a lurid orange glow to the south, beyond the line that Cailan's soldiers held with dogged determination. Thousands of yellow sparkles hung in the air, making lazy circles as they moved toward the defenders. As they started across the bridge Ceri's ears were assaulted by the shouts of the soldiers manning the huge siege engines lining the bridge. She recognised the weapons, massive crossbows that were capable of shooting whole trees as bolts but she couldn't remember their proper name. A brilliant light caught her eye and she stared, entranced by the giant ball of fire arching up overhead. It hung in the sky for a moment, blazing brighter than the sun then it began to fall toward the nearest group of men.
"Look out!"
Alistair's cry of alarm cut through her reverie, even as he grabbed her and pulled her into the shelter of his body, his shield held over both their heads. She felt his armour cutting into her face as he held her close, heard his grunt of pain as something hit the metal shield with a ringing thud, followed by the sound of lighter impacts in an almost musical chorus. As he released her, she could see fire licking at the shattered ruins of the nearby siege engine, long splinters of wood spread about the wreckage like a massive chrysanthemum. She tried not to look at the twisted remains of the men who had been operating the mechanism, at the charred and blackened corpses staring up at the uncaring sky with sightless eyes.
"Are you alright?" Ceri felt a surge of pride that her voice remained steady as she got in first with the question he always seemed to be asking her.
"Fine," he replied, rolling his shoulder to loosen it. "Are you?"
"Thanks to you, yes," she nodded. "Let's get moving. We've got a job to do."
It seemed that disaster was intent on plaguing them. As they reached the ramp leading up to the tower courtyard, they were met by retreating soldiers, shouting that the tower was overrun by Darkspawn as they stumbled and tripped over each other in their haste to escape.
Of course it is, Ceri thought with a wry smile. Why would this stupid job be any easier than it should be?
Standing near the steps she saw a man wearing a robe similar to Wynne's, watching the fleeing soldiers with tired eyes. She recognised him from her foray into the mages' encampment.
"Aren't you Wynne's friend?" she called, hurrying to his side. "What's going on? The general said this place wasn't supposed to be dangerous."
"The Darkspawn have broken through the lower levels and overrun the tower," he replied. He shook his head. "Mage I may be but I cannot face them all alone."
"We'll have to light the beacon ourselves," Alistair said grimly.
"Then we will," Ceri said, sounding far braver than she felt. Glancing round she spotted two soldiers who hadn't fled like their comrades. "Come on, you two. Let's get moving."
Two soldiers, two Grey Wardens, a mage and a dog. Sounds like the start of a joke, she thought as they began to wade through the Darkspawn thronging in the tower grounds. Let's hope the punch line isn't 'and they all went to pieces'.
Inside tower vestibule they halted, stunned by the devastation that surrounded them. Bodies of soldiers and Mabari were scattered about like toys discarded by an angry child. There was a sickly black sheen on the corpses that left them looking like they'd been coated in oil. Alistair bypassed them quickly and peered around the door leading into the main room of the tower. Ceri heard him begin to swear under his breath.
"What's wrong?" she asked, hurrying to his side. "Aside from the obvious, of course."
"It's swarming with Darkspawn," he replied. "They've barricaded the room. That's not the problem though. There's an emissary in there."
"What's that?"
"A Darkspawn mage." Alistair ducked back before he could be spotted by anything in the next room. "If we go charging in there we're going to get roasted."
"I'm not dressed for roasting," Ceri protested weakly. "Isn't there something we can do?"
"Don't rush me, I'm thinking," he muttered, face twisting in concentration.
"What use are you, Templar, if you cannot defeat one Darkspawn mage?" The mage's tone was bitter as he glared at Alistair.
"We're too far away," Alistair replied, "I know. Don't rub it in, alright? My self esteem won't take it."
"Wait, go back a minute," Ceri exclaimed as the mage's comment sank in. "Templar? As in 'you've got no business in the mages' enclosure so shove off' Templar? You're one of those great tin-plated bullies?"
"Was," Alistair corrected, "I was one of those great tin-plated bullies. Duncan rescued me before I actually took vows though. So really I was only a tin-plated bully in training."
"Oh. Right. Ok. Well, when we get out of this you can tell me all about it," she muttered, peering past him into the room. She could see the shapes of Darkspawn in the gloom and tried to pick out which might represent the immediate problem of the so-called emissary. "Alright, I give in. Which one of the twenty equally ugly monsters present is going to throw a fireball at me?"
"Near the back of the room," Alistair said, pointing, "the one with bandages round its head."
It was short and ugly, as many of the Darkspawn she had seen in the last few days were. But around its hands was a sullen orange glow, similar to that which had hung in the air to the south of the battle. Ceri's eyes narrowed as she sized up the scene. Her shortbow might make the shot, but it would be at the very edge of her range. There again, the rubble and broken timbers that had been piled up around the door left only a very narrow margin for error. She had to risk the shot, there was no other way. She was aware of time ticking away, each wasted second of their hour dragging their mission a little closer to failure. This wasn't just their problem, it was everyone's, and every soldier out on the battlefield was relying on them to succeed.
Do whatever you must, Duncan had said.
"What are you doing?" Alistair exclaimed as she set an arrow to her bowstring and took aim. "You'll never make that shot."
"You have a better idea? Because right now we're running out of time." Her eyes never left her target as she continued. "Rushing it is not an option, not if it's going to fry you before you get there. Charred skin is not in vogue this season."
He said something but Ceri wasn't listening any more. The sounds in the tower faded as she focussed everything she had on this one shot. In her mind she could hear a woman's voice, rich and warm with a soft accent, speaking words that had struck a chord deep within Ceri's heart when she'd first heard them. It had been the reason she'd bought the stupid game, could really be said to be to blame for her being stuck in this stupid, impossible situation. One line spoken with utter conviction in response to the same command she was fulfilling now: Kill the Emissary.
The righteous stand before the Darkness and the Maker shall guide their hand.
"You want it dead?" she asked, her bowstring thrumming as she let the arrow fly. "Done."
There was a faint crunching sound as the arrow smacked through the bandages surrounding the emissary's head. For a long moment it didn't move, then it slowly toppled forward and its own fires consumed it.
"Andraste's tits!" one of the soldiers exclaimed, staring at Ceri with shining eyes. Whatever he'd been about to say was lost in the furious roar that echoed from the room as the other Darkspawn noticed their comrade's demise.
"Keep behind us," Alistair told her as they moved forward to engage the monsters charging toward the barricade, "and try to keep the wall at your back. That bow of yours won't be much use if they press you in these close quarters. If you have to use your blades, strike for the eyes or throat."
Ceri nodded, that made sense: blind your enemy or incapacitate it by attacking a major blood vessel. She just hoped that the men would be able to keep the Darkspawn away from her or if that wasn't possible, that her nerve didn't fail her if she had to defend herself.
They fought their way up through the tower, each successive wave of Darkspawn slowing them a little more. Ceri was grateful for the fact that the men seemed to understand that she wasn't a close fighter, using their greater bulk and reach to keep the Darkspawn away from her. In the large central room on each level there was enough space for her to bring her bow into action but in the smaller rooms and tight corridors the best she could do was to draw one of her knives and hope that the lucky slashes she got in would be enough to fend the monsters off until Khan or one of the soldiers could help her. She had been more than happy to let the real fighters lead the way until they reached the room that served as the kennels for the Mabari kept in the tower. As Alistair shoved the door open Ceri could see rows of caged dogs surrounded by Darkspawn. The monsters were jabbing at the hounds through the bars of the cages, making strange choking sounds as the penned animals howled and snarled in impotent fury. It was the sight of two dogs laying dead in their cages and the realisation that the vile sound coming from the Darkspawn was laughter that spurred Ceri into action. Ignoring Alistair's shout she darted into the room under his outstretched arm, lunging for the release on the nearest cage. The Mabari exploded from its confinement with a roar of triumph, tearing the throat from the nearest Darkspawn as it turned on Ceri. As her companions entered the fray Ceri moved from each cage to the next, freeing the hounds to join the attack. When the fight was over Alistair looked over to find her surrounded by an honour guard of four strange dogs plus Khan who had resumed his usual position at his mistress' left hip.
"We'd better keep moving," he said frowning at her. He turned away but swung back to face her before he'd taken a step. "Don't scare me like that, alright? How am I supposed to explain to Duncan that I let you get your head ripped off over a bunch of dogs?"
"I'm sorry," she replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. She hadn't stopped to think of the stupidity of dashing into a room full of monsters, she'd just seen the dogs' plight and reacted. "I won't do it again."
"Oh you probably will," he said with a half chuckle. "Just give me some warning next time."
As they paused on the landing that led to the top level of the tower Ceri tried to work out how much of their allotted hour remained. It was impossible, she realised. She was no good at judging the time, which was why she ended up playing games for hours when she thought only minutes had passed.
"I don't understand," Alistair panted, trying to catch his breath. "There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here. Where have all these Darkspawn come from?"
"Well there was that bloody great hole in the floor on the first level," Ceri pointed out. "That'd be my best guess anyway. Besides, you said you wanted to be in the battle. I guess someone up there must've been listening to you."
"You're right," he replied with a rueful grin. "I suppose it is a silver lining when you think about it."
"Yeah, well, next time would you mind wishing for chocolate cake instead of monsters?"
The worse surprise of the day was waiting for them on the top floor of the tower. As they entered Ceri made out what looked like a fireplace on the far side of the room and realised that this was the beacon they sought. She looked round hoping to find a means of lighting it, a torch or lantern but she could see nothing of the sort. A rumbling growl drew her attention to a pulsating blue mound in the centre of the room. It shifted and heaved as dark rivulets flowed around it, spreading across the stone floor accompanied by a thick squelching sound. Ceri felt her eyes go wide as it began to unfold itself, rising up and up to its full height of near fifteen feet. Now she could see the thick muscled limbs, the curving claws on hands and feet, the twisted horns crowning the ape-like head and the sharp fangs packed into the cruel maw. She was a child again, terrified of the monsters that lurked in the dark, the horrors that crawled out of the storybooks to take up station under her bed. She knew this monster, as surely as she knew her own name, knew what it was and what it did to anyone unfortunate enough to come within arm's reach. Her hands began to shake as the creature turned, as she saw the human head clutched in one hand, blood dripping from the ragged stump of the neck.
"Maker's Breath," one of the soldiers gasped, "what is it?"
"Ogre." Ceri heard the fear in her own voice as she spoke but everything seemed faint and distant, like there was a glass wall between her and the rest of the world. She was still scared of the danger the ogre represented but it felt more like someone else's fear than her own.
"It's between us and the beacon," Alistair said. She could see the concern in his eyes as he looked down at her. "Please tell me you have a plan?"
"Run away and hide?" she asked, half serious. She was cut off by the sound of pounding feet coming from the stairs behind them and was amazed by how steady her voice was. "Or maybe not."
The ogre roared and was answered by a howl from the advancing Darkspawn.
"Light the beacon," Ceri instructed the mage, who nodded. "No matter what happens to us, you must get that fire lit."
Then she didn't have time to be afraid. A dozen Darkspawn charged out of the stairwell, howling with rage and hatred when they spotted the humans. Alistair bellowed a battle cry and charged the ogre, trying to draw it away from the beacon to allow the mage to pass. At Ceri's command three of the Mabari followed him, lunging and worrying at the thickset legs. One leaped into the air, fastening its jaws on the ogre's arm. It hung there for a moment before being dragged loose and thrown across the tower, sliding down the wall to lie in an unmoving heap. Ceri loosed arrows as fast as she could, each one finding its target, each new Darkspawn corpse slowing those following and allowing the defenders time to regroup. A cry of pain from behind her made her swing round, searching for the source. The mage lay sprawled across the wood filling the beacon's hearth, his face white and blood trickling from his mouth. The ogre was reaching for him when it let out an ear-splitting shriek and stumbled forward with Alistair's sword buried in the back of its leg. A shadow fell across Ceri and she dropped to one knee, ducking under the axe that swung at her. She scrabbled for a weapon and her hand closed on something cold and heavy. It was the severed head the ogre had been clutching, somehow thrown clear from the battle. She twisted, hurling the bloody projectile with all her might at the monster behind her. It stumbled, dropping the axe and Ceri snatched it up, throwing her whole weight behind the too heavy weapon as she swung it at its former owner. The shock of impact ran up her arms and jarred the axe from her grip but not before it lodged deep in the Darkspawn's chest. It plucked at the weapon as it choked and died.
Ceri had no time to reflect on the first creature she'd killed in close combat as one of the shorter Darkspawn charged at her. She dodged the first lunge, dragging her knives from their sheathes. Throwing her blades up in desperation she caught the descending sword inches from her face, fighting against her opponent's greater strength to keep the jagged blade away from her. The monster growled its fury at being thwarted and brought its free hand crashing down on her left shoulder. Ceri's knees buckled under the weight of the blow but she managed to jerk to the right, avoiding the next swing. As the Darkspawn drew the sword back she lunged to her feet, throwing herself bodily onto her foe and slashing at its throat just as Alistair had told her. She was momentarily shocked by the resistance against her blade but the elven knife was sharp and it sheered through the green-black flesh in a great wash of blood that steamed and sizzled on the floor and walls. As she wiped the blood from her face a terrible scream cut through the air. Ceri jerked round to see the mage thrashing on the ground, his body wreathed in flames. Behind him the beacon was alight, sending its message to the soldiers gathered below and Ceri knew in her heart that his death was her responsibility. She had told him to light the beacon no matter what and he'd done it, even though he'd been lying on the damn thing at the time. So she watched him burn, when all she wanted to bury her face in her hands and sob, because it was her fault he was dying in such agony and she owed it to him to watch. She heard Alistair shout her name but she couldn't drag her eyes from the smouldering remains. Khan's roar of fury mingled with the ogre's cry of triumph. She was spun as the Mabari barged past to tackle a Darkspawn creeping up on her and she saw the ogre take advantage of Alistair's distraction to snatch him up, lifting him high in the air. His face was white, eyes wide with pain as the huge claws closed about his body and he could only struggle against the iron grip that was growing inexorably tighter. The soldiers couldn't help him; Ceri could see them struggling to hold off the Darkspawn still pouring in the door. The remaining Mabari were worrying at the ogre's legs but were only succeeding in making the beast angrier.
"Let him go!"
Ceri was shocked at the angry screech that ripped from her throat as she hurled one of her knives at the ogre's head. It didn't even sound like her voice, full of fear and hate and anger. She didn't wait to see if the knife did any damage, knowing even if it reached its target that her strength wasn't enough for it to penetrate the ogre's thick hide deep enough to hurt. She snatched an ugly crude crossbow from the monster Khan was still mauling. Pulling the string back over the release, she ignored the pain as it bit deep into her fingers. She rammed a bolt in place and swung the bow to her shoulder.
"Stop picking on my friend!"
She knew it probably wasn't the most sensible thing she'd ever said, certainly not worthy of the Grey Warden that Duncan thought she was capable of being but at that moment she had never felt less like an adult, less like a Grey Warden. She was a child, fighting against the nightmares of childhood, more terrified for her friend's life than her own. She felt the twang of the bowstring all the way down to the soles of her boots, had the bow down and restrung before the bolt had even struck home. A second bolt was in the air as the first hit, buried to the flights in the ogre's throat. The beast howled and Alistair crashed to the floor as it released him to clutch at the metal shaft. It reared back, dropping to its knees and howling again as the second bolt punched deep into its skull. Alistair hauled himself upright, his sword sheering through flesh and sinew until the ogre stopped moving. Ceri threw the bow aside and ran to him as he pulled his blade free. Alistair turned, wheezing as his crushed ribs protested the sudden movement.
"Stop picking on my friend?" he asked in a raspy voice.
She gave a half shrug and bit her lip as white hot pain lanced through her. She clutched at her shoulder and felt wetness there. She lifted her hand and stared in blank incomprehension at the blood staining her fingers. Red blood, not black, not Darkspawn blood but her own. She hadn't been injured, had she? The only blow that had landed on that shoulder had been a punch, hadn't it? In her mind's eye she saw the monster fall again as she slit its throat, a short dagger clutched in the right hand as the sword fell from the left. Her head was spinning as she held out her bloody hand to Alistair in a mute appeal for help. He grabbed her, pulling her away from the stairwell where the Darkspawn were massing. The soldiers were gone, trampled by the swarming monsters that were filling the room. Khan made a snarling retreat until he reached them, the one remaining Mabari joining him to stand between the humans and the Darkspawn tide.
Ceri stared at the Darkspawn, knowing there was no way she was going to make it out of the tower. After all the struggling, all the hoping that this was just some macabre dream she would wake from, now she realised that this was reality. This was how it ended. She was going to die on top of an abandoned tower in a ruined city and no one would know. There was another girl in her place, living her life. That girl would carry on where Ceri had left off and her mum, her friends would never know that she wasn't meant to be there. Or maybe they did know, maybe they preferred this new Ceridwen and they didn't care what had become of her. Perhaps it was better this way. She could hear Alistair's laboured breathing as he shifted his grip on her, holding her tight to his side and she knew there was one last thing she could do.
"Let me go," she breathed.
"Never," Alistair grated. "Either we both get out of this or neither of us does."
"You could get past them, you know you could." Ceri could feel her strength fading fast, running out with the blood she could feel trickling down her cold skin. "You just have to let me go."
"I'm not leaving you," he said, a note of finality in his voice.
She saw the advancing monsters slow, saw them draw back their bowstrings, saw the arrows fly. She felt Alistair's body jerk with each impact, felt the stinging bite of the arrows as they punched through her leather armour. Then they were both falling.
A/N - Here it is at long last - I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up but I've had the worst month (including my car breaking down three times in the week before I went on holiday, workplace angst approaching epic proportions and major broadband issues) which has made it really difficult to get my head in the right place for writing. Still it's finally finished and I hope it's worth the wait. I'm not going to make any promises about when the next chapter will be up but I have got the next 3 chapters done in draft form so I can promise I will get there eventually. (P.S. sorry about the line breaks but when I post the chapters it always deletes the asterisks I use and I can't find another way of breaking the sections up)
Big hugs to everyone who reads and triple chocolate decadence cake for those who leave a review xx
