Part 2: Fear

Chapter 13: Danger

"Father...are you okay?"

Aedan peered over at his father, hunched over the old oak desk. The man muttered to himself as he read through papers. Piles of parchment covered the desk and littered the floor by Bryce. An almost burnt out candle flickered against the darkness of the room.

Bryce turned to Aedan, his eyes drooping. "Aedan...pup...why aren't you asleep yet?"

"I could ask the same for you Father."

Bryce groaned and rubbed his temples. As he got older, it was harder and harder to read by candlelight. "Maric's unfinished business, and business that Cailan has yet to take up." He signed another paper and put into an ever growing pile.

"Father, come on, go to sleep. You've been at this for weeks."

"The kingdom needs this to be done, Aedan. Lots of nobles are getting restless."

Aedan leaned against the study wall. He wasn't interested in being a politician, certainly, but if there was something kingdom threatening, then it'd be good to know about. "Like what?"

"A lot of what was keeping many of the nobles was their respect for Maric and the part he played in liberating us from the the Orlesians. Now that his son is on the throne, some are pushing Cailan to make rash decisions. Cailan isn't quite so bold enough to say no. All it takes is a little wining and dining and a few compliments and the man is won over."

"What about Anora, shouldn't she be able to help?"

"She won't be able to do anything official until the marriage ceremony, which is still a few months from now."

"So what exactly is happening?"

"Land disputes. It's always about land disputes. Imagine what was happening with Bann Abelard but on a much larger scale. Then there are the prisoners of war, and the issues of taxes-" Bryce collapsed on the front of his desk, burying his head in his hands. "Thank the Maker I only have to do this for a few months."

"You need help?"

"No, no, I'm good," said Bryce before his head slammed on the desk and he winced. "Perhaps a little help would be good."

"Good." Aedan marched over and helped his father clear the area. "Now go get some shuteye. I'll divvy up the work here so Fergus and I can help you out."

"You sure you can handle this?"

"Of course I can. I'm a Cousland."

Bryce clenched his fist above his head and shook it drowsily. "That's my boy." He patted his son on his shoulder before noticing something on his face. "Pup, you've got a little bit of...eww."

Bryce Cousland was about to touch whatever was on Aedan's lip before he realized what it was.

"Is that...vomit?" Bryce made a funny face and wrinkled the sides of his mouth.

Aedan sickly chuckled. "Yeah, I think I'm sick or something. Whenever I eat anything I get queasy and naseous." As though right on time, his stomach churned.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who should get to bed."

"Please Father, who do you think I-"

Aedan's bowels made a sickening growl as his face went pale. "I'm just going to take some of these to go," he groaned, swiping some of the documents off of his father's desk.

He sprinted down the ancient stone corridors before he came to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he returned, feeling as though he had been reborn. Teharel passed by, carrying several potted plants. Teharel snickered at the sight of Aedan's sweaty face and sick demeanor. Aedan whipped around and glared at him. The elf knew something. He always knew something.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Yup." With no noise or impact Teharel dropped the plants on the ground and leaned up against the wall. Aedan waited for the elf to respond, but the elf simply stood there struggling not to laugh. He held his hands at his side whilst little giggles escaped from his wrinkled lips.

"Do you mind telling me what it is?" Aedan grew impatient. There was only so much diarrhea one could deal with in a given day, and Aedan had long past that limit.

"Oh that. I've been poisoning your food." Teharel picked his teeth nonchantly with a wooden splinter. Aedan jaw's dropped and his hand twitched.

"And why might I ask are you trying to poison me?" muttered Aedan as he tried his best not to sock the elf where he stood. He ground his teeth and took deep breathes. The only thing keeping him calm was the level of trust he had in Teharel. It was small, but still, he hoped the elf had his best interest at heart. The snickering did nothing to help that hope.

"To strengthen your insides, boy. I'll have you know that I've been using some of my extra hours to grow some mighty fine herbs and flowers that'll keep your innards working hard, so you better be thankful." Teharel pondered for a moment, then turned his pockets inside out. "Some extra copper wouldn't hurt either."

"Thank you so much for poisoning me," seethed Aedan whilst imagining his hands around the elf's throat. In all likelihood however, if Aedan even tried a stunt like that he'd have bloody nose in a few seconds.

"You should be honored. The Dalish don't just poison anybody. Only those we really like or those we really hate."

"And where do I stand in terms of that?"

"Officially, since you're a shemlen, I hate you. But unofficially-"

Teharel took a deep breath, and grinned at the young man. In the darkness, with the candlelight hitting his face at the right angle, Aedan could see the remnants of faded Dalish tattoos on his face. He almost looked like the wild men from the books Aedan had read as a child.

"I hate you," whispered the elf with all the malice and love he could muster. "Really I'm just here for the pay."

"Weren't you just complaining about not having enough money?"

"Could always use some more booze. I need some sort of handicap when fighting you."

"I hate you too, Teharel."

The old elf slithered off to places unknown. Aedan could barely ever keep track of the old man. Had he learnt all his techniques and training from the Dalish, stealth, brute force, and all? Why would he, such a great warrior, be living in the Alienage?

Aedan's innards beckoned again with a low rumble. He would have plenty of time to mull over those questions, along with his father's documents, whilst in the restroom.

"Here we are...the Circle of Magi."

The tower stood alone in the foggy lake, only the tip clear amongst the vapors. A chill emanated through the air, and the wind ravaged the trees. Aedan could make out a faint light at the top of the tower that pulsed erratically. What was going on up there? He shivered as the wind brushed up behind him.

Sten narrowed his eyes at the tower in the distance. He clicked his tongue under his breath. "Interesting. You gather your most dangerous kind in one place, unrestrained, and it is a wonder that there is trouble there now?"

"You have a better solution, Sten?"

"In my land, we collar the mages and sew their mouths shut. It is suitable to contain their danger."

Aedan stared at Sten in shock. The nonchalant way that the Qunari had talked chilled him to his bones. To be able to talk that way of torture.

"That is...unsettling. You would treat another of your kind like that?"

"They cannot control their magic, regardless of training. Eventually, they would all succumb to the lures of forbidden spells and destroy us all." Sten glanced at Morrigan. "It is a mystery why your kind has not yet realized this yet. You have apostates and blood mages running about everywhere."

"I can hear you, and I do not care." Morrigan ignored Sten and Aedan. Her mood had soured towards Aedan over the last two days. When he had sat next to her at the fire, she ignored his attempts at conversation. She would scowl whenever she saw him sparring with Alistair. No more did she offer to train with him after that incident in the woods. Aedan rubbed his face and groaned. Women. What was it exactly he had done? Was it grappling her from behind, or just defeating her, or the words he said?

Or maybe the line had drawn far before, and that incident had simply been the straw that broke the drufallo's back. The witch had already seemed reluctant to come when Flemeth had offered her up. Whenever they camped, she situated her own tent far away from the others and made her own fireplace. Perhaps it was that Aedan got along well with his other companions, who all viewed Morrigan with suspicious- how long would it be before he turned on her?

Were they wrong to be so suspicious? She showed no mercy nor care for others. Why would she be fighting this Blight? Certainly Morrigan had no desire to save others. If she wanted to survive, she and her mother could just shapeshift to birds and fly off. There was a reason Flemeth had sent her, no doubt.

Robert, a new templar recruit, held his ear up against the barricaded main door of the Tower. Outside, he swore he could hear the whispers along with the howling of the wind. Then again, he could be imagining it- it had been weeks now since the demons had erupted. Robert yawned and covered his mouth, lest the Knight Commander hear. The man was irritable enough as it was without a demon invasion. Nobody had gotten any shut eye lately.

The door shook and splinters flew. Robert screamed and fell to the floor, scrambling up against a nearby pillar. Robert shook in fright. More demons? He fingers wrapped around his sword and his shaking arm raised it as high as he could towards the door. If only he had taken his vows a few weeks afterwards, then he wouldn't be in this bloody mess.

The wood barricading the door shattered as the doors flew open. Standing in the doorway were two armor clad fellows. Dirt and muck covered them, and they had no shine nor majestic designs to their armor and arms. Mercenaries perhaps, come for easy pickings? The one in front wore a haphazard array of armor- standard issue army chest and shoulders, with the leggings of a mercenary. He removed his dented helm to reveal a mist-slicked head of unkept black hair that covered his eyes. He rubbed his evergrowing stubble in concern as he looked around and spotted Robert. The unhelmed man approached Robert, who backed up even further against the pillar. The man held out his hand.

"Come on, soldier. Get up. If you're afraid of little old me, how the hell am I going to deal with these demons?"

Robert hesitated, before he took the man's hand. He hoisted Robert up and gave him a hearty handshake.

"I'm Aedan, of the Grey Wardens, and I need to see your commander." Robert, still somewhat shaken, gave a trembling nod and led Aedan and his group into the main room where the other templars resided.

There the most heavily armored templar turned to them, rubbing the bags under his eyes. "I am Knight-Commander Gregoir, and I demand to know just who the bloody hell are you? And why did Carol let you across?"

"We had some goods to offer him," shrugged Aedan.

Sten grumbled and crushed a paper bag filled with crumbs between his massive hands. The other templars whispered and looked at him. Sten turned to them. "Is there something you wish to say?" One of the recruits stammered, unable to find an answer. Sten snarled at him. "I thought so."

Aedan tried to focus on the problem at hand. "I'm a Grey Warden, and I seek assistance against the Blight." Aedan unfurled the ancient parchment. The Knight-Commander snatched it from him and scanned the document. "The Circle of Magi is honor bound to provide us with aid."

Gregoir sighed while he looked over the contract and signature. "Depsite our contract, at the moment we simply cannot help you. The tower is overrun by demons and abominations."

He motioned to all dead templars covered by blood splashed canvas. Tending to the wounded were the few alive, their armor dented and singed. One recruit lay motionless against the wall, his eyes empty and his breath slow.

"To think of all the innocent lives lost here...is too much. We have been pushed back all the way to the very lobby of the tower. There is no hope that any mages have survived. As such, we have called for the Right of Annulment."

Leliana widened her eyes. "You cannot mean to kill all of them?" The sister shook her head, Tthat cannot be. The mages are stronger than that. Have faith that the Maker looks out for His children."

"There is no one left to kill, only demons remain there."

Alistair stepped forward and, for the first time since Aedan met him, saw anger on his face. "You can't be serious, you can't just abandon the mages! You're a templar! It's your charge to protect them!"

"There are no more mages! Do you not understand! They're all dead. Our duty is to keep Fereldan safe from their magic, not sympathize with them."

Aedan turned to the Knight Commander. "You can't just-"

"What choice do I have?" screamed Gregoir, his calm mask thrown away. He grabbed Aedan by the front of his armor and shook him. Spit flew against Aedan's face. "My men are tired and wounded, and we cannot throw any more lives at these demons! No more!" Gregoir panted from his outburst and his eyes were filled with anguish. Aedan grimaced at the commander's demeanor. Is this what Loghain had felt like, that night at Ostagar? The burden of leadership seemed to bring nothing but pain and sleepless nights. Aedan hoped that it would not come to that for himself.

The templars couldn't help them. But a majority of Aedan's potential troops, templar or mage, was up in that tower. He couldn't give up. "Shit," muttered Aedan under his breath. There was only one course of action left. "We'll go in." Aedan clenched his fist and stared at the Knight Commander.

"What? You cannot be serious!"

Aedan steadied his voice and took slow breaths. "I am. I need this army, one way or another, and I was hoping to have a little firepower to go with it."

"There are abominations and demons in there! This is not some ragtag group of bandits or a scuffle with darkspawn. You cannot face them by yourselves."

"I can take whatever they throw at me. No matter what." Aedan drew his sword and put on his helm. He motioned for the templars by main door to open it. The two templars hesitated and looked to Gregoir for permission. Gregoir gazed upon the young man, who walked over to the door in silence. His companions followed him without a word and geared up. It was an indescribable feeling that Gregoir felt, and the sight of Aedan, sword drawn and ready to fight, brought only one word to his mind. Hope.

"Open it," barked Aedan.

"I can't tell if you're the bravest man I've met or the most foolish."

"Probably both."

Gregoir nodded to the two guards. They opened the doors, letting in the putrid stench of rotted flesh and fresh blood. Aedan scrunched his nose at the sickening smell. He had never before smelt anything this bad. Even the darkspawn camps at Ostagar had not smelt this bad. Perhaps it was a good thing that wolves had come to clean up those bodies; here in the tower, bodies had been rotting for weeks.

"May the Maker have mercy on your souls." Gregoir clutched a symbol of Andraste between his fingers.

The door slammed shut behind Aedan and the others.

"Sheesh, what a downer, am I right?" said Alistair, half joking, half riddled with fear at the blood on the walls.

Leliana traced her hand against the torn tapestries and the stained walls. "These poor people. It is sometimes hard to forget that the Blight is not the only threat to Ferelden."

A child's scream pierced the air. Aedan rushed to the source, further down the hallway. Demons surged around a group of mages and children. Suddenly, a burst of light struck them from the side. An elderly mage howled at them and shot another beam. The demons fell to the ground writhing. She blasted again, and they lay still. The old woman whipped around, the tip of her staff pulsating with waves of energy. Her robes were serene and well patterned, but ripped and clawed at by some manner of creature.

"Stay back," she panted, her face pale, "I'm warning you-"

Aedan recognized her. The woman from Ostagar who had closed his sword wounds. Apparently she too recognized him, for her expression softened. "It's you. The Grey Warden recruit. You're alive?"

"I'd ask the same of you. Seems like you managed to get out of Ostagar all right."

Aedan stepped forward, but the woman thrust her staff forward to keep him at a distance.

"Stay back. I don't know why you're here, but I can guess why. You've come to kill us, haven't you?" The woman eyed Aedan with suspicion and worry. Could he blame her, after all she had been through? But he had had enough with suspicion for his usual manners to pull through.

"No. I'm here to save your sorry asses."

"What? I'd think the templars wouldn't let anyone in unless to cull the tower."

"He did send for the Right of Annulment."

The woman's face dropped, and she shook her head at the floor. "So...Gregoir truly does believe the tower is lost. Do you?"

Aedan wasn't sure to be honest. He had seen the blood shed in the quarters, and heard the screams from up above. He saw the demons at Wynne's feet. How could anyone survive a horde of those? However deep down there was tiny part of Aedan that wanted to believed that not all hope was lost, and that was enough for him to say: "No, I think we can still save them."

Morrigan turned to him, disgust on her face. "You want us to assist these pathetic excuses for mages? They allow themselves to be corralled like mindless cattle. Now that their masters have sentenced them to death- I say let them have it."

Aedan rubbed his brow with his tired fingers. "Morrigan, would you rather have an army of you or an army of Alistair?"

"That is irrelevant-"

"And hurtful," added the templar.

"-because they do not even begin to stand up to me." Morrigan stared at him with a defiant look, gazing into his eyes. He stared back and decided to hold firm.

"I'm not going to stand by and let anybody die on my watch again. I'm not abandoning the mages. Are we clear, Morrigan?"

Morrigan scowled before turning away. "Have it your way." She disagreed with his sentiment, but respected when someone held their decisions. There was a pause in the air- the group did not know what to say to that quickly resolved conflict. The elderly mage moved first and stepped forward to Aedan.

"Allow me to come with you,"she said, "As a member of the Circle it's my duty to see its preservation. This barrier will not disappear unless I make it so."

Aedan nodded and was a little glad. She was perhaps the sanest person to ask to join them. He held out his hand.

"We haven't formally been introduced. I'm Aedan."

The woman reached out and shook Aedan's hand. "Wynne. Allow me to prepare for a few minutes and say my goodbyes."

Whilst Wynne said goodbye to the children and her fellow mages, Aedan looked over at the corpse of the abomination on the other side. He had seen nothing like it. the had bubbles of flesh and unworldly claws that twisted through its arm and hands. It's skin was as though it was bleached and broken by the darkness, leaving only the husk of what had once been a human or elf.

"Did you see those children there? Shivering and cold, and so afraid. I can't imagine the horrors they've been through."

Aedan grunted as he put his helm back on. Sweat and blood splattered the insides, and his own breath suffocated him. "You won't have to imagine, Leliana. We're about to face them."

Leliana hesitated and bit her lip, then asked. "Are you afraid?" She tried to peer inside the slit of his visor to see the face of their inscrutable leader, the stoic man who waltzed in to fight demons.

"No," lied Aedan.