The Tainted Knight
A Dragon Age Fanfiction
By Bionca Femme
Chapter 21:
Sigrun watched as the Dalish Warden knelt beside dark spawn tracks that were weeks old. They'd entered the Wending Wood days ago, in hopes that they would be able to track down the nest they originated from. Despite the surprise attack on Soldiers Peak, not all had been killed or dragged away.
Of the surviving two dozen, Sigrun, Watcher Rilyn and Avernus had volunteered to go with her to rescue what Wardens they could. More specifically, Sigrun hoped to rescue the one friend she had made on the surface. Ser Perth.
"Looks like the tracks lead into that mine," Rilyn said as he stood. He pushed one of his blonde braids away from his face and regarded Sigrun with a worried expression. "I will have trouble tracking them below ground."
"Don't worry, I'm a legionnaire scout. If they're down there, I'll find them," she said firmly.
She turned to Avernus who was leaning on his Mage staff. He'd done admirably well with the travel, considering how old he was. Why he wanted to come had been beyond her, but his help had been invaluable. She was especially impressed when he saved her from being overwhelmed by dark spawn.
One moment she was watching wide-eyed as a band of Hurlocks surrounded her; snarling slash-like mouths grinning down at her one moment, and in the next they were screeching in pain simultaneously as they were hit with a spell that immobilized them and damaged them from the inside out.
After she and Watcher Rilyn defeated the beasts she'd pulled him aside, "What in the stone was that?"
Avernus folded his thin arms over an equally thin chest and sniffed, "Blood-magic." His tone signifying that he expected her to be upset about it.
"That was sodding great!" she exclaimed excitedly. "It really is too bad that Dwarves can't do magic. We really could have used that in the Legion!"
Avernus regarded her with an incredulous expression but didn't bother to reply.
After some contemplation Sigrun concluded that blood-mages were looked down upon even more than Castless and elves. Still, she couldn't see why the humans would be so opposed to the usefulness of blood-magic. Certainly even the most discriminatory of humans could find it useful to boil the dark spawn from the inside. Or turn them against their foes with a muttering of a few words. Rilyn had explained to her that it had to do with the human's religious beliefs. Which she could understand. The Shaperate and the Chantry, while having different beliefs and different goals, certainly knew how to control the masses.
She was grateful to have him with them. Rilyn's reasons had to do with the fact that he was Watcher and when the dark spawn ambushed the Peak, he felt responsible for the lives lost and the Wardens taken. If there was a chance that he could get even one Warden back, then he was willing to make the journey and take that chance. Rilyn wasn't worried about losing Sigrun in the rescue operation, being Legion of the Dead as she was, she was used to being swarmed by dark spawn daily and knew how to get out of near hopeless situations with ease.
Avernus's reasons for joining the quest had been infinitely more puzzling. It was no secret that Avernus had not left his tower for hundreds of years and when asked he said that he wanted to find Ser Perth just as much if not more than she. Which surprised Sigrun because as the whole Peak knew, the two men did not get a long. Or at least, Ser Perth was adamantly opposed to Avernus. Avernus himself was famous for his scathing remarks on the young man's idiocy. When asked why he wanted to find the young knight so badly, Avernus merely shrugged and said that before this business with the dark spawn was over, they would need Ser Perth. He would say no more on the subject.
Sigrun led her companions into the entrance of the mines, as soon as the stone closed over her she felt as if she was coming home. The endless sky no longer threatened to swallow her up, and the comfort of the stone embraced her like a mother's arms. Beside her Watcher Rilyn seemed to stiffen as they descended into the darkness. She frowned at his reaction and hoped that he didn't get claustrophobia like some surfacers did. Elves seemed to have a harsher reaction to being underground than human's did. "Don't sodding freeze up on me!" she hissed out to him in warning.
He didn't say anything but simply nodded. Her vision, being better in the dark than in the light, took on the pale cast of his face and she frowned. He he froze up during a fight, they were in a arse-load of trouble.
They navigated the tunnel-system easily enough, most of the dark spawn they found were wandering about by themselves. It seemed that the bulk of the monsters that swarmed them at the Peak were no where to be found. Perhaps they were roaming the surface. Wherever they were, Sigrun was glad for the lack of great numbers of them. She came upon a straggler or two and managed to sneak up on them and quietly kill them before they even knew she was there. An hour, maybe two underground and she was beginning to see signs of their fallen and captured fellow Wardens. The odd discarded griffin emblem shield, a Warden Longsword, a helm. The further they went, the less confident of finding survivors she was.
Finally, when it seemed to her that there was no one left she and her two companions found themselves in a dungeon. There was a stench about the place, like rotted meat and sickness. Sigrun only managed not to gag more than once by breathing through her mouth instead of through her nose. She nodded to both men and they helped her check the cells for inhabitants. They were all empty, all but one.
In the last cell, sitting with his forehead resting in his arms, which were crossed over his knees, was the figure of the man that she'd hoped to find. He auburn colored hair was darker, having been matted with sweat and dirt, his armor gone and replaced with filthy commoner clothing, his feet were bare and extremely dirty. "There you are!" she said with relief.
Andre's head picked itself up and he looked around blearily. "Sigrun?"
"Who the sod else would it be?" she chuckled.
Ser Perth's eyes finally found her and she recoiled in horror. "Ancestor's preserve us!" she hissed.
"You shouldn't have come," he said with a tremor in his voice.
"As if!" she retorted. "Hey, Avernus!" she called the old Mage over and then she deftly picked the lock on the cell door.
As they entered the cell Andre pushed himself further back against the wall, "Don't!" he held up his hand to signal for them to stop. "Don't come any closer. I am diseased!"
Avernus looked the Knight over from where he stood. "The method of infection?" he asked.
"The one in charge, he-," Andre shuddered. "He took my blood and then I was told that he put something back in, I don't know what. Dark Spawn blood, poison, what does it matter? I'm dying no matter the cause."
Avernus snorted. "Young idiot," he replied calmly. "You're infection is not airborne as it was injected. It should only be contagious through blood to blood contact. But as I would have to run other tests to confirm it, I will be the only one to approach."
Andre sighed heavily and nodded. He knew better by now than to argue with the elderly man. He would do just as he pleased regardless of Andre's wishes. "Just don't let Sigrun near me," he said, ignoring the hurt in Sigrun's eyes.
Avernus cast a meaningful glance at the dwarf woman before he took a step towards the Knight. He crouched down next to him and without touching him, looked him over. "Hold out your hands," he commanded.
Andre did as he was told and watched with silvered eyes as Avernus cataloged his symptoms. After a few moments Avernus stretched out a weathered hand and rested it on Andre's shoulder. "There is hope lad. Though, I think you will rather die of your disease than follow through with its cure."
Ser Perth's eyes narrowed. "Blood Magic," he hissed out.
"Just so, but now is not the time for such discussion, let us take you out into the light of day, my lad, before you make any decisions," Avernus offered.
Andre's pale face showed doubt but the Knight nodded none-the-less. "I should like to see the sun once more," he simply said.
Zevran Aranai may not be a very tall man, elven as he was, but when he was angry it was like a storm followed in his wake. He struck an imposing figure as he stalked through the halls of Vigil's keep with murder in his eyes. Maker help anyone who stood between he and his intended target when he was worked into a state of rage. And in a rage he was, he had just finished translating the letters that Bertram had given him and what he found angered him more than he even he thought he was capable of. The Crows that were contracted to kill Selene and also Alistair, were from the cell that he came from. Somehow he foolishly thought that his old Master would have left him alone, that anyone would tangle with the Grey Wardens after they defeated the Archdemon itself, seemed like suicide. The Client was Bann Esmerelle, whom he was certain was acting on behalf of someone more important. Though the person of import was only referred to as "our honorable friend in Denerim", it didn't take great intelligence to realize that this was indeed Eamon's doing.
He reached the cottage that Bertram was staying in and his raised his fist to the door, banging on it rudely. Thankfully, Bertram was the one who answered, his appearance was disheveled and he was rubbing his eyes. "You have to the count of five to explain why you're banging on my door in the middle of the night. Or you're going to be limping back to your lover, and no amount of knob-gobbling is going to make up for the world of pain you're going to be in."
"You know, all this unresolved sexual tension between us is quite unhealthy, at some point we should rectify that, I think," commented Zevran with a raised brow. "But now is not the time for such things," he cut Bertram off as the bushy-bearded guard opened his mouth to retort. "For now you must be made aware that when Selene returns from her explorations of Black Marsh, there will be an attempt on her life. My old Crow cell is here in Amaranthine, and Bann Esmerelle and Eamon are behind it. I have no concrete proof of Eamon's involvement, but...I think I might know of someone that we could hire to find it for us."
Bertrams eyebrows drew together. "Who?"
"The Dark-wolf," Zevran replied.
"We need real solutions, elf. Not rumor. Which is what the Dark-wolf is...rumor and nothing more. No one has ever actually seen the man and he's as much a legend as the Griffins," Bertram grumbled.
Zevran clucked his tongue, "Ah-ah-ah, you should trust me, my grumpy friend. I happen to know the man."
"Of course you do." Bertram passed his hands over his face and then tugged on his beard, "What time is it?"
"Two hours before dawn," Zevran replied.
"And where would we find the Dark-wolf?" Bertram eyed the elf speculatively.
"In the foreign quarter of the City of Amaranthine," Zevran crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto his left leg. The way Bertram was going with this conversation it could well be that he'd be standing here until lunch.
"Alright, go get us some horses," Bertram grunted out and then shut the door in Zevran's face with a thunk.
Despite the rude exit, Zevran's anger at the situation dissipated in the face of actually getting to do something about it. He turned on his heel and made his way back to the Keep, he needed to nip down to the treasury, if they were going to deal with the Dark-wolf, they'd need some coin.
Kristoff folds up his map and slips it back into his pack with a frown. He has journeyed several days to find the Black Marsh, only to find himself thwarted time and time again in the attempt. He tamps down the desire to growl in frustration once again. Just as he seemed to be getting close to the boundaries of the town, a mist would suddenly come off the marsh and he would be lost and wandering again. After the third instance he decided that strong magic was at work. Which would make perfect sense given the rumors that surrounded the place.
The fog has rolled into the wooded area surrounding the marsh that he has traveled within for days and he sighs heavily as he starts making camp. It is already getting late into the evening and at this rate he would be wandering around these lands forever if he did not find some other way of navigating. He's chosen a particularly good spot he believes to make camp. A rock formation that looks a little like a soup bowl standing on its side, serves to protect his tent on three sides. Making it hard for him to be surrounded in the dead of night. There is no one to keep watch with in the night. The unnatural stillness of the surrounding wood makes him wish that he had taken the time to ask someone to accompany him. But at the time it seemed like such an easy task, one that would not take but a few days to complete. Hardly worth sending two Wardens for. He was to investigate strange occurrences and possible dark spawn sightings in the area of Black Marsh. A scouting mission, nothing more.
If he'd known that he would be lost for over a week in this Maker forsaken country, he might have thought better of it. Consequently, here he sat, nursing the few dry bits of wood and tinder he has found into a meager fire and wondering if he would ever be able to find his way out, let alone find a way in. How many adventurer's had attempted to explore the Black Marsh, only to find themselves wandering in circles? He had a feeling that the number was very high, and the number of poor souls that perished in the attempt, equally so.
A crack of a branch to the north of his position draws his attention away from the flames. "Hello?" he calls out. Only silence answers. Thinking that it is a wild animal he goes back to the fire and his thoughts. But another crack from the same direction has him springing to his feet, longsword in hand. "Show yourselves!" he shouts, hoping that the confidence in his voice will deter whatever it is from approaching.
That's when he hears them, feels their evil aura tearing at his. The whispers invade his mind, clawing at his control. More noises now, they are coming from everywhere. He is being surrounded...
"There it is," Alistair said with triumph in his voice. "I told you I'd get us here!"
Oghren swung his ax up to rest on his broad shoulder, "Aye, looks like the place."
Selene grinned, "And we only got lost seven times, I'm impressed."
Alistair shot her a look and straightened up, lifting his nose slightly in the air. "Well I got us here, in one piece!"
"Yes, my Lady," Anders piped in, "give him some credit. He did manage to do just fine once he realized he was holding the map upside down."
"Alright, alright," Alistair held his hands up in surrender. "I admit, I got us lost. But we're here now. Maybe we should stop picking on the King and start looking for the lost Warden, mmm?"
"Sounds like a good idea," Selene said, coming to his rescue.
They ventured into the town on a raised dirt road that was flanked on all sides by the Marsh. Some of the dwellings had fallen into the murky water and were rotting where they lay. Every once and awhile they would come upon small clues to the previous inhabitants' existence. Deteriorating fencing traced the plots of land where villagers built homesteads and Selene could feel the melancholy of the place.
After some time they happened upon the body of a dark spawn, "Kristoff's doin', looks like," Oghren commented.
"Most likely, though it bodes ill for his welfare I imagine," Selene frowned.
"Look," Alistair pointed down the path. "I think I see a manor house at the end there, do you see it?"
Selene stood up from where she was crouched next to the Hurlock. Her eyes focusing on what appeared to be a black iron gate at the end of the pathway. Beyond that the area was shrouded in mist, a large black shape beyond gave the appearance that the gate opened out upon the courtyard of a large Mansion. "I see it," she replied. I just don't like the look of it.
"Do you think Kristoff could be inside?" Anders asked.
Selene shook her head. "Its a centuries old building that hasn't been lived in for a very long time, its likely any disturbance could have it crashing down around your ears if you set foot in it. From what little time I've known the man I've learned that he's no fool. He'd sooner sleep outside some place," she thought for a moment. "Some place where he's protected. Let's look for a rock ledge somewhere," she took off down another path, leading parallel to the marsh.
Anders watched her go for a moment and then turned his eyes on the King with a exasperated look. "Does she do that often?"
"Do what?" Alistair asked.
"Take off into parts unknown into as yet unrealized danger, like she's on holiday?" Anders asked.
"Yep," Alistair chuckled. "A holiday, with dark spawn."
Oghren belched. "Lass certainly knows how to show a man a good time. Well, come on ladies. Lets get moving before she has fun without us!"
"Your fun looks a lot like stupid from over here," muttered Anders. He watched as the King and the dwarf followed after the Commander. The newly recruited mage took another look at his surroundings and sighed heavily. "Almost makes me wish I was back and the Tower," he shook his head and then hurried to catch up with them.
A/N: Sigrun to the rescue!
This is getting to be a nail-biter of a story. Oh I hope the author doesn't kill Andre! Oh...wait...I am the Author. No Andre killing. =P