Chapter 9: Brink
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Eamon's forces joined ours, though the path wasn't easy.
To the Dalish we went to enforce our old treaty
Only to find them in need of our aid
For elves were afflicted by a very dark plague.
To end vile curse we entered the forest
Though we knew little of the task brought before us.
The werewolf lair was deep in a glade.
We accessed it through power of blood and of blade.
We met with the werewolves, journeyed deep to their lair,
Parlayed with their leader – a Lady most fair.
She told us the source of their terrible woes
Was an ancient dispute between two very old foes.
We helped cure the poor beasts, brought peace to the region
In return for our help we secured a legion
Of hunters and craftsmen and soldiers and trappers
Our army was growing a great deal faster.
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The attacks came from all sides.
Kallian and Zevran were the initial focus of the assault. Their attackers had emerged from the fog, moving so quickly that an alarm couldn't be called. Kallian's dual blades spun with exacting precision, the Warden back-to-back with the Antivan in a deadly dance that repelled all who would dare take on the two assassins. Alistair and Sten held the flanks, the Qunari's sword moving in broad, sweeping blows that cut through the thickened hides of the werewolves like butter. Alistair, defter in his movements than the Qunari, swung sword and shield with deadly precision, taking the heads off of any werewolves who made it past Sten's recently recovered blade. The two mages held position between the warriors, protected by their blades and by Fynn's razor sharp teeth.
Leliana cursed, sending a poison-tipped arrow into the chest of another beast, shifting her stance slightly to allow the creature to fall to the ground beside her, convulsing in its final death throes. She skirted along the periphery of the fight, never losing sight of Kallian, afraid that if her attention wavered for even a moment, the elf would disappear under a pile of teeth and claws.
Another arrow, this time into the heart of a werewolf that had been creeping up on Wynne's blind side. The older mage shot the bard a grateful look before returning to the task at hand of reinforcing their party's shields.
They'd made their camp in the remains of an old apostate's clearing. The hermit – half-crazed from isolation and age – had not taken too kindly to strangers rummaging through his campsite, attacking them without much provocation, even after Kallian had tried to negotiate for the Great Oak's acorn. Aneirin had directed them towards the clearing, though he would not stray too close to the site, warning them only that significant obstacles remained in their path. He had returned after the battle, assisting his former mentor in healing a few injuries before taking his leave to set up camp alone. It had been too late to proceed deeper into the forest, so they'd set up camp and Wynne had placed a few protective wards designed to shield them from prying eyes.
But the forest would not be dissuaded by the trappings of a single mage.
The first attack had been sudden. Leliana and Kallian had been sharing watch, and the bard had been pleasantly drifting in and out of consciousness when she was startled suddenly by a yell. Her lover had roughly pushed her aside, and as the bard struggled to regain her senses, she caught sight of the elf wrestling with a much larger werewolf, the creature's jaws snapping dangerously close to her neck.
The Orlesian had reacted quickly, throwing one of her daggers towards the werewolf, catching him on the shoulder and causing the beast to roar in both pain and anger. Kallian used that opportunity to deliver a well-timed stab just below the creature's ribs, driving the tip of her own blade directly into the beast's heart.
Now, Kallian stood side-by-side with Zevran, working together seamlessly to fend off attacks that seemed focused solely on the two elves. Maker, Leliana knew her lover had been training with the assassin – she had even watched some of their sessions – but seeing the pair move in near perfect tandem was pure poetry.
"Leliana, careful!" Wynne's voice called out from behind her, and the bard spun, though too late to take advantage of the mage's warning. Leliana felt the breath leave her body as a large, charcoal-coated wolf impacted her squarely in the chest.
The redhead managed a startled gasp, acting mainly on instinct, allowing the force of the blow to roll her into a backwards somersault. She kicked upwards with all her strength, sending her assailant into the fire pit, the acrid stench of oily fur nearly causing her to gag. She clawed her way from the campfire's edge, rising on unsteady feet, only to find herself buried under another set of grimy, scratching claws.
Kallian had broken free of the fight with Zevran, racing towards Leliana, where she flung herself onto the back of the bard's second attacker. She plunged her dagger through the werewolf's matted fur, giving the poisoned blade a vicious twist. The bard almost winced in sympathy for the creature – she had watched as the Antivan taught her lover the precarious art of poison-crafting, and knew from her own experience that this particular concoction would cause the heart to seize in short order. The creature let out a roar, jumping high into the air, flailing wildly, trying to throw the smaller elf from its back.
"Wynne!" Kallian's eyes were wild, and Leliana turned, the rest of the battle fading away as she saw the one called Swiftrunner standing several feet behind the taller woman. He had somehow managed to slip behind the older mage's defenses, felling the woman with a large rock. Wynne struggled to right herself, her eyes glazed from what was surely a serious head injury.
"No!" The bard raced towards the two, lunging towards them just as Swiftrunner raised the rock high above his head. Leliana tackled the beast, the rock falling from the werewolf's hand as they fell into a tangled heap. White hot lightning blinded her as a pair of fangs embedded themselves into her shoulder, ripping and tearing at her flesh. Leliana screamed – she couldn't help it, really, so terrible was the pain of the werewolf's curse. She could feel the fire consume her, tearing at her body, like a giant hand reaching into her chest and trying to pull out her still-beating heart.
And then all fell silent.
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Kallian turned just as Leliana shrieked, having slain one of the last members of the attacking party. Her heart leapt into her throat as she saw Swiftrunner take her lover down.
"Leli!" A blinding rage consumed the Warden and she darted past the trail of corpses to the bard's fallen form. Swiftrunner's dark gaze met Kallian's own, a grotesque smile curling the corner of his mouth. Squaring his shoulders in challenge, he stepped back beyond the tree line, disappearing into the dark fog.
Kallian was torn between her desire to find Swiftrunner and tear him apart and attending to the bard, whose eyes had glazed over, her skin taking on a silvery sheen. Leliana's muscles twitched, her body spasming as her mouth formed a perfect oval, caught in the rictus of silent agony. The Warden slid to a stop beside her fallen lover, her heart pounding violently in her chest. The elf tore off her helmet, pressing her hands to Leliana's shoulder as she tried to staunch the flow of blood.
So much blood.
"Maker no," Alistair moaned, his helmet falling to the earth beside Kallian, drawing the back of a gauntleted fist across his forehead, blinking away the blood and sweat. He looked over to the only other warrior in their small party, and though the Qunari's gaze remained stoic, doubt clouded his eyes. Looking once more at the Orlesian, Alistair shook his head silently.
She's not going to make it. Alistair wondered what would happen when the other Warden realized that unfortunate truth.
"Wynne!" The scream seemed to come from another person. Kallian struggled to maintain her tenuous control as she pressed hard against the pulsing wound. The shredded flesh felt hot to her fingertips, and Kallian bit her lower lip when her lover seized, her limbs flailing uncontrollably. Wynne, still disoriented from her head injury, scrambled to the pair's side, quickly removing Kallian's hand and replacing it with her own, murmuring the appropriate healing spell under her breath. Almost immediately, the flow of blood stopped, the wound beginning to close in on itself. Worried eyes scanned the fallen woman, noting the thin trickle of blood which appeared at the corner of the bard's mouth, crimson tracking against the pale skin.
"Wynne, you have to help her." Kallian pleaded, her voice a half-sob as she tried to restrain Leliana, who was undergoing another seizure. Her normally bright blue eyes had darkened and were beginning to roll up into her head. "Please, she's dying."
"I see that," Wynne snapped, the panic infecting her own body. Quickly, she waved her hands over the bard's torso, her face instantly paling as she realized what was going on. "No," she murmured, eyes going wide. "It can't be."
"The curse is taking hold of her body. She has a few hours, at most." Morrigan knelt down by Leliana's other side, passing her own hands across the bard's body. She looked up at Kallian. "She will not likely survive the night."
"But it takes several days to take hold. Zathrian said..." Kallian's voice rose along a crescendo of rising panic.
"Zathrian only spoke the partial truth." Another, less familiar voice rang out, and Aneirin knelt down beside the ailing woman, pressing his hand across her forehead. Almost instantly the bard quit convulsing, though her closed eyelids kept twitching intermittently. "On elves, the curse takes several days to manifest itself. But in humans, I've seen the curse transform in as little as a day. She was bitten in a bad place. The toxin has already settled in her heart."
"No..." Kallian pulled the bard tightly against her body, rocking back and forth. "No," she whispered again, pressing her lips against her lover's forehead and burying her face in the sweat-soaked hair.
For once, Wynne felt at a total loss. She, as well as the others in their camp, knew that something had transpired between the women at Redcliffe. However, the mage had not realized until this moment just how serious they had become. Wynne shook her head in disapproval, fearing the worst. Kallian was a Grey Warden, and the duty she had to Ferelden had to supersede all of her personal desires, even love.
Wynne knew, perhaps more than most, just how severe this threat had become. Already she had lost many friends and colleagues to the Darkspawn. Only a Grey Warden could stop the Blight, and given that there were only two in Ferelden, any distraction had potentially dire consequences.
And this scenario formed the basis of Wynne's reservations. If Leliana died, would Kallian be able to pursue her duty? Love was an inherently selfish emotion, and the loss of one's lover often sent the surviving partner into a spiral of deep despair. Kallian could ill afford to be so debilitated.
She had seen this scenario play out countless times before in the Circle. Once, she had known a young mage and a Templar who fallen in love. The mage had been fresh out of her Harrowing – the Templar newly assigned to the Tower. It was a relationship that should never have happened. The pair had cleverly managed to hide their forbidden relationship some time before Wynne had learned. She had approached the woman – a former pupil of hers, urging her to see reason and to leave the relationship.
She had even shared her own story with her former pupil, hoping that her own tale of loss would persuade the younger woman to see reason. But the mage was headstrong, much like Kallian, and had flippantly disregarded Wynne's caution. No more than a few days passed before Knight Commander Greagoir had found out about the dalliance. He'd ordered the pair flogged, the templar was sent to prison, and the young girl was imprisoned for nearly a month before it was decided she would be made Tranquil. Wynne had argued fervently with Irving over the girl's punishment, but the Senior Enchanter would not be dissuaded. It was the only way to keep the peace between the Circle Tower and the Templars.
Wynne remembered the broken look in the young mage's eyes the day of their sentencing. By the time the Rite of Tranquility was to be carried out, there was simply nothing left in the young woman.
It was a foolish waste of two lives. And now, she bore unfortunate witness to a very similar turn of events. Kallian was a Grey Warden, and Leliana, despite Kallian's best intentions, could one day fall in battle. Or, in the right circumstances, the elf could carelessly endanger the whole mission for the sake of the bard. The Warden was a wonderful leader, but she was young, emotional, and inexperienced in matters of the heart. The old healer genuinely liked Leliana, but she knew the bard's experience far surpassed the Warden's own. Still, she could see how smitten the young bard was the Warden, and it gave the mage no small cause of concern.
Kallian looked up at Aneirin, tears running down her cheeks. She rocked back and forth, cradling the twitching bard to her chest. "We have to do something. Please."
"We need to end this, before she finishes her transformation." Wynne closed her eyes at the Qunari's fatalistic, though realistic, declaration.
"How dare…?" Kallian's voice was filled with outrage, the elf positively shaking with fury at the warrior's words.
"Would you have her suffer needlessly?" Morrigan intoned dryly, her yellow eyes flashing with defiance. "The transformation is said to be among the most exquisite of tortures." Kallian's flinched at the Morrigan's word choice, and the apostate made a note to file this information away for further examination. "Would you have her die a beast, crawling and spitting like the mindless creatures who attacked her, or would you allow her to retain a shred of her dignity?"
"You can't be serious!" Alistair sputtered. "This is Leliana. She is our friend!"
"So we should allow her to suffer? Far more humane to grant her a quick death than a slow one from the poison," Morrigan snapped back.
"Silence!" Kallian's own voice rose above the din, her green eyes searching out Aneirin's, clinging tenuously to the last remaining fragments of hope. "Can you give her some more time?"
The elf mage studied the Grey Warden for a long moment before nodding slightly. "I can make a potion that will slow the transformation. You will have a day or two, at most. I would suggest you hurry."
The Warden's eyes flashed with renewed purpose, her entire body straightening with icy demeanor. "I will make sure this curse ends," Kallian vowed. "Even if I have to cut Witherfang's heart out myself."
Aneirin's eyes darkened. "I would be careful, Warden, about believing everything you hear. Very rarely is all as it seems."
"What do you mean?" Wynne asked, the note of caution in her former apprentice's voice too powerful to ignore. But he refused to speak further of the matter, instead retreating to the campfire, drawing his leather satchel over his head and pulling out various herbs and potions.
Zevran had been watching this scenario unfold with uncharacteristic silence. Reluctantly, he came up beside Wynne, his dark eyes leveling on the others with trepidation.
"I do not wish to intrude on such a private moment, but if I may," Zevran paused as Kallian looked up, meeting the other elf's anguished eyes. "Should we not try to get her back to the Dalish camp? We remain very exposed in this site – I fear another attack will happen soon."
"Then we will not allow them the opportunity to strike," Kallian's argued, turning her attention to the others. "Sten and Morrigan – be ready to move out in a candlemark. We will find Witherfang's lair…" The Warden's voice trailed off, the rest of the threat hanging in the balance.
"Kallian, this is a foolish course of action." Wynne argued, feeling the weariness settle around her heart. She regarded the elf as a daughter, but for her to risk herself and two others needlessly… "Traveling at night in the Brecilian forest is tantamount to suicide. The path is difficult enough to follow in good light."
"Leliana sacrificed her life for yours. Can we do any less for her?"
"And how many lives will you risk to save hers?" Wynne felt the weight of her years pressing down upon her. "Kallian, think about what you are doing. We cannot find what we cannot see. We must wait until morning." She reached for the elf's shoulder to offer comfort.
"We don't have until morning." The Warden snapped, drawing away from Wynne's outstretched hand. Wynne pursed her lips together, trying to ignore the hurt of the rebuff.
"Kadan, the older mage is correct." Sten's no-nonsense tone brokered no argument. "If we depart now, we strike from a position of weakness. We will fail."
Kallian looked away, hesitation clearly visible. She looked over at the bard, and then at the rest of her companions. Wynne held her breath, silently praying to the Maker that the Warden would make the right decision.
"You are right," Kallian's expression was bleak. "But we will need to travel quickly, and we will have to split into two groups. Sten, Morrigan, and Zevran will come with me to find Witherfang's lair. Wynne – I need you here to help Aneirin. Fynn, you and Alistair will have to provide protection for the second group. Meanwhile, let's reinforce our campsite. I want traps along all borders and double the guard."
Fynn issued a low whine, and Kallian's free hand reached up, idly scratching the Mabari behind his ears. The hound lowered his head, nudging his master gently in the chest. The elf lowered her face into the dog's neck, whispering words too soft for even Wynne's astute hearing. After a moment, the Warden drew her head back, and the Mabari barked sharply before trotting off to help the others.
Wynne could only imagine what the elf had asked of their four-legged companion. Pursing her lips together, she waited until she was assured of at least a little privacy, and then leaned towards the elf. "Kallian, I…"
"Wynne, I know, alright?" Kallian's mood soured. "I haven't forgotten my duty. How can I, when it's staring at me at every turn?"
The older healer bit her tongue, deciding to let the old argument rest for now. She pressed a cool hand on the bard's cheek. She truly liked the young bard, admired the faith that was such big part of her everyday life. So young, Wynne thought sadly. I am old. I have lived a long, full life. You shouldn't have jumped in the way.
The mage rose shakily to her feet, joining her former apprentice by the fire. At least she could aid in this.
Kallian watched as the older woman departed, her heart growing heavier by the moment. In her arms, Leliana stirred, letting out a soft whimper. The bard's eyes squeezed tightly shut, her body arching in pain. Her skin had taken on a greenish hue, her veins standing out as dark lines against the pale surface. The venom was settling deep now, and the Orlesian was beginning to transform. The Warden's eyes widened in desperation and she tightened her hold on the bard, murmuring softly to her lover.
"Don't you dare give up on me," Kallian pressed her lips against Leliana's feverish forehead. "Don't you dare leave me to do this without you."
Leliana's eyes squinted open, her irises now a murky amber hue. "K… Kal…" The dull eyes focused on her lover's visage, the wild expression tearing at Kallian's heart. "It… hurts."
Green eyes filled with tears as Kallian leaned down, brushing lips against Leliana's own. "I know, love. Hang in there, please. For me."
The tender moment was interrupted by the presence of Aneirin, who approached the pair with a mortar and pestle. Wynne followed, standing mute as her former apprentice knelt beside the young lovers. He pulled out a small potion and poured it into the mixture, swirling the dark concoction together. After they were thoroughly mixed, he glanced at his former mentor and at the Warden apologetically.
"This is just the first dose," he said apologetically. "She will not like drinking this... it is not pleasant and it will cause her much pain."
Kallian grimaced, but nodded firmly, her jaw set. "What do you need me to do?"
"Lift her up, hold her arms and legs down, if you can," Aneirin gestured to the bard. "I will try to pour the mixture down her throat. If I cover her mouth, she will be forced to swallow most of it."
Kallian actually paled, shaking her head frantically. "No, we can't do that. It... she won't respond well to that." The Warden paused, frowning. "Let me try."
Aneirin pursed his lips together. "This cannot be done alone. She will fight you once she tastes the mixture."
"She will fight harder if we try to restrain her," Kallian's eyes met Wynne's, pleading for understanding. "Please, let me try."
Wynne knew the source of Kallian's hesitation. She had been present when they went to confront the bard's former lover in Denerim. But only the elf had been privy to the most intimate details of the bard's terrible betrayal – though Wynne could well deduce at least a portion of what had happened. "Let her try," Wynne agreed reluctantly, ignoring the confusion in her former pupil's gaze.
Aneirin shrugged, clearly dubious, but recognizing an unwinnable argument.
Kallian positioned herself so she was behind the bard, cradling the other woman in her arms. She brushed her lips against her lover's cheek and began to murmur softly into the bard's ear, trying to project all her love into her voice, hoping desperately that Leliana would understand, somehow, that she was safe.
The bard seemed to calm down, her body stilling. Kallian smiled through tear-filled eyes as she held out her hand to Aneirin, taking the medicine and gently holding the cup to the bard's lips.
"Love," Kallian whispered gently. "If you're in there, please listen to me. Open your mouth. Try to drink this all."
Ever so slowly, the Orlesian's mouth opened, and Kallian tipped the mixture into her mouth. The bard nearly coughed and spluttered as the first drops of liquid hit her parched and burning throat, but somehow managed to keep the foul concoction down.
Leliana's body tensed and she whimpered as the medicine began to work. She began to thrash around, and Kallian had to react quickly to avoid spilling the rest of the medicine. "Please," the Warden pleaded. "I know it hurts. But you have to finish the rest of it." A pair of lips pressed against the back of the bard's head. "Please, for me."
The bard whimpered, though she did not open her eyes. After what seemed like a small eternity, Leliana's lips parted.
Wynne glanced at Aneirin out of the corner of her eye, unable to keep from smiling at the slack-jawed elf as he watched Kallian feed every last drop of the potion to the ailing lover. It took several minutes, but eventually the cup was empty. And already Wynne could see the dark veins on the bard begin to recede.
"Amazing," Aneirin said, regarding the Warden with respect. "I've never seen anyone in this state do that before."
Kallian returned his weak smile, rocking Leliana's body back and forth. Aneirin quickly rose. "I will need get more herbs," he said, regarding the Warden cautiously. "We'll need to administer the potion every hour, to keep the poison at bay." With that, the elf disappeared into the forest.
"K...k..." Leliana's weakened voice called out, the bard's eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids.
"I'm here, love." Kallian whispered softly. "I'm here."
"Hurts...so...much..." Leliana whimpered. "W...Wynne's..."
"I'm right here, child," Wynne said quietly, kneeling down beside the pair, her own heart aching at the bard's condition. She pressed a hand against the redhead's cheek, cupping it lightly. Her own eyes filled with tears, smiling sadly as the bard's eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened, revealing darkened irises that belied the darker changes that were taking place. "I am okay, sweet girl."
A small, nearly imperceptible smile passed over Leliana's lips. "Good," she rasped. It was a struggle, but the bard managed to turn her head towards Kallian, lifting a hesitant finger and brushing at a tear trickling down the Grey Warden's cheek.
"Don't...cry..." Leliana whispered. "I...love...you." The bard cried out as a new wave of pain coursed through her body. Kallian glanced at Wynne helplessly, and the mage quickly pressed a hand against the Orlesian's sweaty forehead, quickly chanting the incantation for a sleeping spell that sent the bard into the Fade's realm. The bard's body slackened, finally relaxed.
Kallian pressed her lips gently against Leliana's. "I love you, too." She looked up at the older Mage, who saw a fierce look of determination pass across Kallian's features. "I will end this curse," Kallian said, her voice dangerously low. "Once and for all."
I have never dreamt so darkly as I did that evening. Ghosts of my past and present returned to torment me, the only reprieve those moments when you woke me, feeding me that vile concoction that would once more keep the dreams at bay. Throughout the night you nursed me, caring for me and praying to the Maker that I would live to see the morning.
Oh yes, I heard you pray. Even in the midst of my fragmented dreams, I heard your urgent cries to the Maker and Andraste and whichever old Elven gods would listen.
I never told you that I spoke to Wynne about that night. She was more than happy to tell me the entire truth of what unfolded, even the parts that reflected unfavorably upon her.
She told me how you stood down Zathrian when you learned that he was responsible for the curse, remaining true to your principles when it would have been so much easier to destroy Witherfang as he asked. She told me you nearly cried when he turned on you all, forcing you to take up arms against him and help the werewolves, even though you knew it could mean my death
She told me how you sobbed with relief when you all returned to the campsite to find me much weaker, but returned to my normal state.
As for what happened afterwards, when I had recovered and we met in the privacy of my own tent, well, my memories of that are quite fine, thank you very much.