disclaimer type=standard
Anything you recognize is Bioware's. I dare say anything else belongs to them too.
/disclaimer
o_ooo000ooo_o
Kathryn sipped her wine as her audience reacted. Cassandra merely blinked and looked a little taken aback. But her stony countenance showed that she no longer had any sympathy for the Vanished templars. Gaylen was confused, looking to the others for clarification rather than question Kathryn. Leliana leaned against the wall in the corner of the cell, refusing to look at anyone. She shook her head and moved her lips in silent prayer.
"Pardon me," Gaylen said tentatively, "may I ask, who is Avernus?"
Leliana snapped her head around and glared at Kathryn as though daring her to either lie or downplay her answer.
"He is a bastard. An ancient, evil, full blooded bastard," Kathryn replied easily, to Leliana's mildly surprised expression. "Two hundred and thirty-odd years old, at our best guess. He was a contemporary of Sophia Dryden, the Warden-Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens during the uprising that ended with the Wardens expelled. He singlehandedly ended the battle by summoning demons, and survived since by using blood magic. He performed amoral, even gruesome, experiments on other Grey Wardens. His two redeeming features are his peerless intellect and his devotion to the goal of the Grey Wardens."
Gaylen swallowed audibly. "You gave the Vanished templars to him?" He asked in a voice an octave above his usual smooth tenor.
The Warden nodded. "I did. We were in the middle of the Blight when I met him. I was horrified by his history and actions, but at the time, I needed him. I willingly used the fruits of his research, but insisted that any and all future experiments were done humanely." She took a deep breath and let it out in a low, slow sigh. "But such naivety was burned out of me. Those templars have been invaluable as research subjects."
Cassandra scoffed. "Using his research to become more powerful was not naive," she pointed out.
Kathryn gave her an abashed look. "Relatively naive, then."
Cassandra gave that a snort. "You misrepresent everything, don't you? You really are a manipulative bitch, aren't you?"
Leliana's eyes widened at that, while Gaylen scooted back in an effort to put more distance between him and the elf.
Kathryn merely bowed. "Thank you. I actually just came from a lovely meeting with Dot and Celene. I rather think I may have brought them round to doing what I want."
Leliana gave a soft gasp at the blatant disrespect, but Cassandra just rubbed her forehead. "Dot? Her Perfection, the Divine Justinia the Fifth, is just 'Dot' to you?"
Gaylen also gave a soft gasp as he made the connection.
"Well, Dorothea is such a mouthful."
Cassandra's mocking chuckle caused some distress to her comrades. "May I ask how you manipulated them?"
With hands spread magnanimously, the elf replied, "Of course you may. I simply told them my reason for deciding to capture Val Royeaux. And them too, I suppose. I told them that Thedas was doomed, and that I was simply doing what was necessary to give us a slender chance at survival."
Cassandra and Leliana shared a look filled with skepticism. "They believed you?"
A self-deprecating shrug preceded the response. "I was most persuasive. I revealed some pretty convincing evidence that every conversation Celene has conducted over the last six years has been reported back to Anora. I also told them that I controlled their usurer of choice for funding their wars."
Cassandra blinked in surprise. "Do you?"
"Well," she drawled, "it's a bit of an exaggeration, I'll admit."
"You lied."
"Maybe just a little," she admitted. "It was more or less true. True-ish, if you will."
Leliana decided to enter the conversation. "Why would you lie to them?"
Kathryn turned her gaze to her old friend. "I didn't lie outright. I do own part of Château d'Roche. I bought and paid for my share with their own money, funnily enough. That little adventure was a laugh, let me tell you. But as to why – I needed the pair feeling helpless."
"Helpless," Cassandra repeated.
"Yes. Those women have held power for so long that helplessness is alien to them; they always have control over some aspect of whatever situation they're in. I need them to be unsure, to be desperate for assistance. My assistance. They've been taken from their usual guarded routines, informed that their private conversations have been eavesdropped upon, told that the entire world is in danger of being destroyed and that not even their financial affairs are secret. Tomorrow when I meet with them again, they'll give me what I want, and I won't even have to threaten them to get it."
"And just what is it that you want, Kathryn?" Leliana asked softly.
Kathryn gave her an amused smile. "Later. I need to continue my tale. I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
Leliana lifted her chin. "And if we wish to leave?"
The elf glanced at Cassandra, evaluating her reaction. She smiled, looked back at Leliana and tilted her head to one side. "Door's to your left."
There was silence in the cell for a few long moments. Eventually, Cassandra crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. With her non-verbal declaration that she was staying put, she said, "You were about to describe how you escaped being made a broodmother."
Kathryn grinned impishly at her, and gave Leliana a wink. "I was." She drained her glass, then reached out and picked up the open wine bottle. "But first, grab the other bottle and your glasses. This cell is a bit too cramped for four of us. Let's go to my rooms, and I'll continue my tale as we walk."
o_ooo000ooo_o
Amid the roars of outrage and normal rage, I felt my breath cross my lips, causing my body soften and flow. The myriad aches and pains faded, replaced by coiled strength and power. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the sensation of assuming another form.
When I opened my eyes, the world was oddly bifurcated, with my eyes now located on the sides of my skull. But my vision was incredible; I could see unbelievable details in the low light.
I sucked in a breath, opened my jaws and screamed. Despite my situation, the analytical part of my mind noted with satisfaction that the bones in my jaw shifted in such a way that they blocked off my ears, just as I'd discovered on the top of Fort Drakon. A fortuitous circumstance, given the volume of my roar. With nowhere to go, the sound reverberated in the cavern, magnifying the volume to almost inconceivable levels.
The darkspawn scattered or staggered stunned. With one extremely satisfying swipe of my foreleg, I swatted an ogre weighing perhaps half a ton clear across the entire cavern. It struck the far wall with a damp thump before sliding into a boneless heap.
I struggled to lift my body off the ground; the first time in a new body can be a disconcerting experience, what with unaccustomed limb length and a reversed pelvis. Not to mention a pair of gigantic wings.
Still, desperation is the great motivator. I staggered upright, and began thrashing around, whipping my enormous tail back and forth. Hurlocks and genlocks were turned into paste as I crushed them against stalagmites. I raised myself onto my rear legs and dropped down hard, crushing perhaps half a dozen darkspawn under my front talons.
There was no finesse, no élan. I thrashed around without care to the pain I did myself against the sharp and immovable rocks of the cavern. I ignored the rocks that rained down from the ceiling as my body crashed into the ceiling and walls. In an animalistic fervour, I crushed and minced and splattered more darkspawn in half a minute than I had killed since the end of the Blight. I stamped and slapped at them as I would spiders and mosquitoes.
As soon as I noticed that my rampage was no longer killing anything, I paused and looked around. My thrashing had caused a couple of connecting tunnels to cave in, but howls of fear echoed up one open wide tunnel. They came from the darkspawn who had fled me.
I was not going to let them get away.
I stuck my long neck down the tunnel and breathed deep. With pyrotechnic joy, I gushed flame, filling the tunnel and immolating everything within for hundreds of yards. Darkspawn disintegrated amid the intense heat, with only their bones surviving more than a few seconds.
Liquid fire rushed out of my mouth, but instinctive as it was, it was not a biological ability. I noticed the heavy drain on my still-recovering mana too late.
Without magic to sustain the transformation, I was forced back into the form of an elf with a throat full of dragonfire; perhaps the single most painful experience of my life. My vocal chords melted. My oesophagus was deeply scorched and seared. I clutched at my neck, unable to scream. Unable to breath.
For a few, eternally long seconds I thrashed around, rolling from side to side and kicking the stone floor hard with my heels. Instinctively, my hands flared blue the moment my mana reserves recovered enough to do so. The relief from the pain in my throat was indescribable.
Still lying prone, I cast healing spells with all the power and skill I could muster. Within a hundred heartbeats, my body was sound enough to stand.
I did not stand however, despite the ability to do so. Emotional relief flooded over me in a wave that left me curled up on the hard, blood-slick stone. For the first time in long weeks I was free. I was no longer a prisoner of sadistic madmen. I was no longer a captive of darkspawn seeking to induct me into a living hell.
I wept uncontrollably.
o_ooo000ooo_o
"Was that how your voice… ended up the way it is?" Leliana asked.
"Ruined, you mean?" Kathryn swallowed and nodded.
"I'm sorry, my friend."
Kathryn gave a shrug. "It's not as though I had a wonderful singing voice beforehand. It's no great loss. At least I can still speak."
o_ooo000ooo_o
I don't know how long I lay there crying.
I was surrounded by darkspawn bodies, both dead and dying. But here, miles below the surface, naked, unarmed and surrounded by mortal enemies, I felt safer than I had for a long time. I lay, curled up in ball, arms clutched around my legs.
As stupid as it sounded, it was my prosaic stomach growls that focused my attention, drawing me out of my self-pitying funk. Hunger had been a constant companion ever since the first night as the guest of honour with Darrian's templars. But now I was in a position to do something about it. I staggered upright and took stock.
I could see well enough in the dark tunnels. A few patches of oily fire provided enough illumination. It was about the only thing a darkspawn was useful for. Or, in this case, a darkspawn corpse.
The cavern was unrecognizable from how it looked just minutes before. I couldn't be sure just where the group that had carried me had entered from. But the most likely tunnel was one of the ones I'd collapsed.
I took a few moments to make certain that every last darkspawn in the chamber was dead. It felt good to inflict some violence upon those who deserved it. It felt empowering, a feeling I really needed. I scoured the place for usable weapons or clothing, but there was little beyond a stinking tunic I tore up and wrapped around my feet as rough shoes.
And so, naked, hungry and very, very angry, I picked a tunnel at random and set off into the darkness.
Hunger defined my time in the darkspawn-infested tunnels. With my magic I could weave dancing sprites to light my way, heel my cut and blistered feet and conjure flames for warmth. I could block off a tunnel with a barrier spell and wards to ensure I was safe as I slept. I could even freeze a rock and collect the frost to thaw and drink, but I couldn't create food. And this close to a darkspawn nest - or the remains of one, at least - there was precious little of anything remotely edible.
I sucked the marrow from the bones of a long-dead deepstalker. I tore lichen off the rocks around a muddy puddle. One glorious day I feasted on a giant spider who tried to capture me. I roasted that thing long and hard before gorging on the sticky innards.
I kept moving, picking any tunnel that led even vaguely upwards. Many were blind, ending in a sheer rock face. Some were blocked by rock falls. Those presented less difficulty to me, a mouse could pass through quite small openings.
But I was hopelessly lost. And there were still darkspawn around, drawn to me by the taint in my veins. Without a handy cavern, I could not assume my archdemon form, no matter how imposing it was. But I had other talents almost as good at killing darkspawn.
Without a dwarf's stone sense, I had no way of judging time. I could have been wandering for days or weeks. Hunger still drove me on. After sleeping three times in a row without finding food, I finally snapped. The next darkspawn group I found, I killed. I cooked. And I ate.
And with the disgusting meat still stuck in my teeth, I giggled.
o_ooo000ooo_o
Leliana blinked back tears as her friend spoke. Tentatively, she reached out and took Kathryn's hand. The elf paused her narration, looking down at the hand with mild surprise. But she looked back up at Leliana's face, and smiled. Genuinely.
o_ooo000ooo_o
Time lost all meaning. I moved from tunnel to tunnel, searching for my next meal.
I lost myself. I became a predator. Anything in my tunnels was fair game.
Survival was my only goal. Nothing else mattered.
I prowled the darkness.
I had forgotten what I was searching for. Perhaps I had come close to finding it, only to drift away in a different direction.
I may have stayed in the tunnels perpetually, feasting on darkspawn flesh had it not been for a flickering flame.
I tore blackened meat from a genlock thigh with my teeth when I saw the dying flames on a darkspawn tunic all lean in the same direction. I blinked and stared at it, trying to remember what it meant.
It happened again; the flames went from dancing upright to all pointing down the tunnel. I dropped my food and threw myself down onto my belly to put my nose close to the flames.
There! Only this time, I felt a cool breeze on my cheek. A breeze that carried a faint smell.
I scrabbled to my feet and ran down the tunnel, sniffing the air, waving my hands around, searching for a tiny temperature difference.
The tunnel ended.
But the hint of scent in the air was stronger here. I ran my hands over the rock face, searching for the source of that maddening smell.
There it was. A natural fissure in the rock. I could barely push my hand in past my fingers.
I shifted into my mouse form; almost without thinking. I scrabbled deep into that tiny break, desperation rising. I pushed and shoved, scraping fur from my back. It opened up to a small space in between boulders. Too small for me to assume my normal form.
I kept searching. There was no light here, and no way for me to use magic. I sniffed the air, I listened to the rocks. Inch by inch, occasionally doubling back, I made my way closer towards freedom.
My paws touched water. Frigid, icy water ran down the inside of the rocks. Still, I pushed past.
There it was. A glimmer in the air. Motes of dust lit up like floating gold in that glorious light. A pile of rocks blocked off the tunnel, but there was a single aperture, like a needle's eye, letting in that glorious light.
I don't know when I turned back into an elf. My fingernails oozed blood as I dug into the rocks and pulled, tossing the loose ones behind me. The glimmer turned into a narrow beam of bright light, which erupted into a shaft as I hurled the next rock away.
I shielded my eyes against the pain lancing through them. I didn't stop though. I pushed forward, through the tiny opening, grunting and moaning.
Then, I was past the rocks. I crawled out of the tunnels, covered in blood and filth. Cool air surrounded me, air that smelled of dirt and leaves and flowers. I put one foot underneath me, and pushed myself upright.
I raised my arms to the glorious sky and screamed.
I screamed with relief.
I screamed with triumph.
I screamed with freedom.
Once my breath had been exhausted, I slumped down. I put my palms down onto the rocky earth, and made a fist with one hand. Soil oozed out from between my fingers.
My shoulders shuddered. To my astonishment, I found myself laughing. I could almost feel the lack of heavy stone all around me. It felt vaguely as though I was about to fall into the sky. I giggled and cackled at the odd sensation for a long time.
How long? Time meant little. But my vocal histrionics had attracted attention.
"Is that… an elf? Is it Dalish?"
I snapped my head around, startled. Three figures stood perhaps twenty yards away, weapons in hand. Two men and one woman. All human.
My heart skipped a beat, and I cowered back in fright. But it wasn't the sight of the weapons that terrified me. It was the symbol on their armour.
A word flashed across my mind. Templars.
Without rock surrounding me on all sides, instead of hemmed in, I felt unaccountably vulnerable. I snarled at them, a threatening, animalistic sound that surprised me. It seemed to frighten them too. They drew their weapons, and advanced on me.
"I can't see any tattoos, but she's covered in muck. You, elf! Do you speak?" one asked.
I scrabbled back, away from them, my eyes darting. Cataloguing. Assessing.
"I said, do you speak?" the templar demanded once more.
"She may be an imbecile, Ser," the female of the group suggested.
The third shook his head. "Subdue her. We can interrogate her back at camp."
Their manner shifted from cautious to aggressive. I barked a word and gestured, sending a shard of high-velocity stone to take that one low in the belly, blasting him backwards.
"Mage!" the woman shouted.
"Smite her!" the third male shouted as he leapt forward.
But I was already casting. My body ebbed and flowed, solidifying into a gigantic, draconic nightmare. The charging templar suddenly tried reversing his direction while in mid-air, a girlish scream of terror erupting from his lips. The female was shocked into immobility, part way through her Smite. She stood still, staring at me and stunned with a wide-eyed expression of pure horror.
I raised a foreleg and slammed it down on the incautiously charging warrior. His shriek of terror ended abruptly, with a unique squelchy crunch of deformed metal and exploding organs.
"Maker preserve me!" the other man expressed with a guttural wheeze, still lying prone and winded. I drew a breath and spat a glob of liquid fire at him. He made no further sound as his body dissolved into a puddle of molten metal and ash.
The female templar squealed, turned and ran, her longsword and shield discarded in her mindless, panicked flight. I swung my serpentine neck around, judging her direction and speed. I drew breath again and gushed flame once more, igniting both her and the forest around her.
Her screams echoed off through the woods as she ran, a living pillar of flame. She whipped her arms back and forth in a vain effort to wipe the fire off her body.
The sound died out presently. Peace settled, with only the light crackle and pops of burning wood punctuating the silence.
I glanced down at my foreleg, raising it high and examining the scales underneath.
Ugh.
I scraped the disgusting remains from my foot against an outcropping of rock.
o_ooo000ooo_o
Gaylen withdrew a small square of material and held it to his mouth, looking suddenly very pale. He looked down at the glass of irreplaceable wine in his other hand, and decided that settled nerves were more important than keeping a glass of ceremonial wine intact. Even if there were only two bottles of it made every hundred years.
He gulped the glass down.
o_ooo000ooo_o
Once my foot was more or less clean of templar remains, I raised my head high and looked around. With a vantage point high above the nearby treetops, I had a clear view. And what a view. I could see for leagues with my archdemonic eyes.
I let out a roar, unfurled my wings, took two steps and leapt into the air.
The trees some thirty yards away or so cushioned my landing quite nicely. Though they were only fit for kindling afterwards.
I shook my body to rid myself of the aches and pains from the hard landing. Flying was obviously going to take a bit of getting used to. I quickly reviewed my memories of watching dragons in flight. While still with my feet on the ground, I undulated my body, trying to mimic the remembered action.
After a few moments of practice, I discovered a way of moving that felt… right. I backed up once again, ran a few steps to gain momentum, and jumped…
It was hard work at first. I thrashed hard with my wings, inelegantly and inefficiently. Lifting my enormous body took correspondingly enormous amounts of effort. But, slowly, I rose further and further into the air. With sufficient height, I could lock my wings outstretched and bank to one side. I turned gracefully and sped out over the forest below.
As Morrigan had told me long ago, flying was the single most glorious experience imaginable. The speed, the rushing wind, the sensation of freedom; it was incredible. I twisted and turned my wings in the air, noting the subtle changes that resulted in directional shifts.
The birds in the surrounding airspace gave me a wide berth. I flew through a cloud, discovering that it was like being hit with a bunch of cold, damp fog.
Once I was confident in my ability to retain my height above the ground without conscious direction, I looked around the landscape from perhaps half a mile above. Below me, laid out like the most detailed map in existence, lay Ferelden. The Korcari Wilds, to be exact.
Indeed, to one side many leagues away I could even see the fortress of Ostagar. Complete with tiny, patrolling figures.
Figures that glittered in the early morning sunlight.
I snarled, suddenly feeling belligerent. If there were more templars there, then I was going to sort the bastards out.
I beat my wings hard, gaining even more height. I changed direction and flew towards my target. Once in position, I then banked to one side, instinctively angling myself around for an aerial attack from the east.
I burst out of the bright morning sun above the fortress just seconds before letting loose a long, steady breath of flame. The surprise was universal. Half a dozen tempars leapt from the high stone bridge rather than be burned. As I ended the run and began the hard climb back into the sky, I glanced over my shoulder and saw a bright ribbon of flame stretching from one side of Ostagar to the other, right along the bridge joining the two camps.
I flew around again, gaining height once more.
A few arrows rose to greet me on my second run. I was clearly travelling faster than anyone on the ground expected, because the few shafts that struck me only glanced off my tail. I ignored the flimsy things, happily belching out gobs of dragonfire on specific targets. The command centre of the camp went up first, centred on the very spot where Duncan had tended his fire the night of my Joining. The next spot to be destroyed was at the base of the Tower of Ishal, where the templars had set up their supply depot.
I noted with wry amusement that one Templar with more intelligence than usual had tried to shoot a ballista bolt in my direction. He missed of course – it would be highly unlikely to hit a moving target on your first attempt.
I fought for height once again. This time, I circled around well out of even ballista range, looking for another juicy target. I could easily make out individual templars running around like ants from a disturbed nest. From this height, the two circular bonfires joined by a thin ribbon of flame looked pleasingly symmetrical.
A lot of templars were fleeing, spilling out into the surrounding boglands on either side of the fortress. The landscape formed natural bottlenecks; satisfyingly attractive to my destructive urges.
Rather than simply flame them from above, I dove and landed hard in the midst of the panicking warriors, crushing perhaps a dozen with – literally – a fell swoop. I stamped and stomped and swatted the bastards, even biting a couple in two. When the scattering figures looked to be getting away, I drew breath and screamed at the top of my lungs, universally sending them to their knees, clutching at their ears.
I hunted them down. First in their dozens, then as the day wore on, in smaller groups. In the days subsequent, I hunted them down in pairs and finally, one by one. Ostagar was many days march from the nearest major settlement, and with the ability to fly and spot movement from a great height, not many escaped me. Those who wore no armour tended to be more difficult to spot. However, that meant that they were wandering in a dangerous forest full of wolves and spiders without any protection. Few could survive such dangers.
o_ooo000ooo_o
The quartet reached their destination, Kathryn's luxurious rooms.
"The Imperial suite?" Cassandra asked sardonically. "You are staying in the Empress' own rooms?"
The Warden snorted. "She has an entire palace spitting distance from the front gate of the Grand Cathedral. Has she ever even stayed here?"
The Seekers shared a glance. "Not to my knowledge," Leliana offered as they opened the beautifully engraved and inlaid doors.
"Well then, why is it called the Imperial Suite?"
Cassandra gritted her teeth. Giving the obvious answer – that it was in case the Empress' whim dictated that she stay – would no doubt give the sarcastic elf an opening for a long rant against the astonishing waste of resources by the Chantry. "Does it matter?" she demanded, striding into the opulent room. Without waiting for an answer, she went on. "I would like to know what happened after you butchered the entire templar force stationed at Ostagar. No one knows what happened to you for many months afterwards."
"Well, no, there wouldn't have been any reports. It's a bit inexact, but I estimate that I was underground for between four and six weeks. I had completely lost my mind. Being even bigger than a high dragon agreed with me, and I remained that way for weeks, lairing at what was left of Ostagar, nesting on the top of the Tower of Ishal. I had no predators, and plenty of game to eat."
Leliana kept her hand in Kathryn's, hoping that it would keep her calm. "If it was so comfortable, why did you return at all?"
Kathryn gave a wistful smile. "I may well have stayed. But during my hunting, I was visible for leagues around. On a clear day, people on the road south of Lothering could see me if the cloud cover was minimal. Rumours of a vengeful dragon in the south burning up the forest ensured a coward like Ceorlic would beg for royal aid. The King of course just sent his resident dragon and dragon-slaying experts to investigate."
Cassandra nodded, making the connection. "The Grey Wardens."
Kathryn laughed at her tone, and sat down on a decadently plush couch. "Exactly. Nate, Oghren and Jowan and his Lily headed south to check.
Leliana frowned. "His Lily? Wasn't that the name of the Chantry initiate he wanted to run away with?"
"Yup," the elf said with a shrug. "He named his familiar after her."
o_ooo000ooo_o
"That's no sodding dragon!"
I blinked myself awake at the startled exclamation. I was still sleepy from the massive meal I'd eaten the day before, and I'd been happily snoozing in the warm sunlight. The echoes continued to resound around Ostagar for a few moments. I raised my head from where it rested against my belly and looked out over the edge of the tower.
Three armoured figures glittered below.
With a hiss of anger, I stood upright and leapt from my nest. I swooped low, ready to flame them when a squeal of fright caught my attention.
A small dragon, not much larger than a cow, leapt in front of one of the humans and gave a warbling roar of fearful defiance.
I aborted my attack with difficulty, flew over the group and landed hard. What was a dragon doing with these humans? I turned to face them, noting that in the brief time it had taken me to attack, they'd split up. The one protected by the tiny dragon was still in the open, but the red-haired one had dived and rolled well to one side.
The other tall, dark human was behind a broken stone wall, offering him quite some cover from my breath. He whipped his bow around, held back only at the third human's shout. "Don't!"
"What? Why?" the bow-wielding one demanded, arrow nocked and ready.
Instead of answering, the one with the dragon held out a hand and trilled.
My snarl disappeared. I drew my head back in surprise. That sound was… oddly comforting.
"By the stone! That works on archdemons too?" the short, red-haired one exclaimed.
The gentle trilling paused as the nice human took a breath. He kept making the soothing noise, but kept his distance.
"What are you talking about? That's a dragon, not an archdemon!"
"I'm telling ya Nate, that's a sodding archdemon."
There was a pause. "Are you sure? I can't sense any taint."
"Yes I'm bloody sure!" the short one spat. "I smacked one between the eyes with my sodding hammer!"
I swung my head between the two arguing humans. Their voices were drowning out the nice sound. I stared at the short one. A word flittered across my conscious. Dwarf. Not human.
The trilling stopped. "Shut up, and let me work!" the nice one said, before resuming his song. I stood up straight, relaxing at the sound. I could stomp on these three humans if I needed to. There was no need for me to be ready to attack in an instant.
The trilling human took a tentative step forward. I tilted my head to one side, but made no other movement.
Emboldened, the human stepped forward, still making that nice noise.
I settled my body down on the stony ground, enjoying the song. I extended my neck, moving my head towards the human. His eyes widened, but he stood his ground.
I sniffed at him.
Memories flooded me. The human's scent brought back images of me, clutching at the human's hand, hugging him tightly. Sitting close together while reading in front of a fire.
I reared back, my eyes wide with shock.
"Jowan! Down!"
I retreated a few steps, mind a whirl.
"Wait!"
The memories evoked by the human's scent were disjointed and rambling. But the one feeling they all conjured was one of safety and security. This human had kept me safe.
My body flowed and ebbed. From down on my hands and knees, I looked up at the suddenly much larger human. "J-jow-wan?" I croaked.
His surprise was total. "Maker! Kathryn?" He leapt forward and grabbed me in a tight embrace. "Kathryn? It is you! You're alive!"
The sudden constriction made me panic. I struggled and hissed and screamed. He let me go abruptly. "Kat-"
I screamed a spell, blowing him backwards hard.
Voices screamed orders around me. I jerked my head from side to side, searching for the next threat. Suddenly, my power was sucked out of me. The abrupt lack of mana left me gasping.
"I've Cleansed her!" the red-haired one shouted. "Put her to sleep, nughumper!"
I screeched incoherently at the one who'd left me helpless. I turned and ran, instinctively knowing that without my magic I was at a distinct disadvantage. I got perhaps a dozen yards before my awareness faded.
I remembered very little about the next few months. My captors managed to smuggle me all the way north to their fortress without attracting too much attention. I was kept in a magical torpor; awakened only after being drained of magical strength – and only long enough to wolf down some food.
I recalled flashes; fleeting images. There were some fights, the loud clanging of metal on metal and the even louder shrieks of agony of those stupid enough to attack two warriors, a mage and a dragon.
It was night when we arrived at our destination. I was bundled upstairs and confined to a room with a judicious barrier spell across the window.
As far as I was concerned, the prison cell had simply been enlarged from a crate to a room.
I wailed and screeched in my confinement. The red-haired dwarf sat with me for hours, draining me of my magical might at regular intervals. Sometimes I would physically attack him, desperate to escape. I would leave great gashes on his face from my nails. He would suffer those wounds without complaint, letting me expend my rage upon his body.
He would still drain my mana though. And each evening a mage would appear in the doorway with food. Food laced with magebane, but food nonetheless. Once I had gorged myself while crouched in the corner, I would be put to sleep. The next morning, the cycle would begin again.
A strangely familiar dog was the only beast I would permit to remain with me unmolested. The hound had significant trouble walking about, but willingly let me curl up in the hollow between its legs and belly, protecting me from the outside world.
I only saw a few faces in that time. The mage who smelled of dragon. An elderly man who smelled of blood and death. The red-haired warrior with the pain tolerance of a rock. Another mage whose magic healed my self-inflicted wounds and kept me healthy. A dwarf woman with a painted face who bathed me and cut my hair after I'd been sedated.
All the while, I raged in my mind. At my imprisonment. At those who had hurt me.
And I promised bloody retribution upon them.
o_ooo000ooo_o
AN: Thanks to my reviewers, Robbie the Phoenix, MB18932, Pintsizedpsycho, Phygmalion, Jared, ByLanternLight, Nate88, unanimously anonymous. mostly, MrZipacna, fjun, jaffa3, Ledilettant, Bob Rijke, Bhoddisatva, GoldenDevil06, TheNStorm, sizuka2, , jnybot, Isabeau of Greenlea, SgtGinger, Incognegro74, Quirky, Mage, RakeeshJ4, Mike3207, CynderJenn, raw, Zanros, Arsinoe de Blassenville, MemoriesoftheForgottenGuardian, Vibrolux, Superstar Kid, Meatzman2, Piceron, Silviu, punkedoutrocker, Basani, amanda weber, Viktorius, Nightbrainzz, White Ivy (x4!), Anime-StarWars-fan-zach (x2!), lynn-writer and MarkerIV. Goodness me.
A short, but dark chapter. For those of you who haven't seen Dawn of the Seeker, Regayen (Gaylen) is a loyalist mage of the Orlesian Circle who assists Cassandra as she saves the day.
One night recently I took my wife out to dinner to a restaurant in Melbourne called Cumulus (which had fantastic food – the tuna tartare was to die for). But to my astonishment, one of the waitresses was the spitting image of Cassandra Pentaghast.
Same hair, down to the direction it flowed across her scalp. Same colouring, same nose, same shaped face. Had you told me that she was the model on which Cassandra had been based, I'd have believed you without question.
I opened up the Dragon Age wiki on my phone and showed Cassandra's picture to the waitstaff. It caused quite a bit of astonished laughter. The poor waitress was a bit embarrassed by it all, but she was so astonished at the likeness she put both her hands to her cheeks in surprise on seeing it. I told her that the character was a full-on dragon-slaying hero. She gave a fist pump at that.
