Translations:
Isa'ma'lin - brother
Halan'em - help me
Chapter 21
'Rhen wheeled about, a profound sense of relief washing over him.
"Evelline? I've been looking everywhere for you," he said sternly. Evelline faltered and he could see the beginning of a pout teasing its way into her smile, so he softened his demeanor. How could he stay mad at her? "You know how dangerous it is," he added, crouching down and gathering Evelline in his arms. She wrapped her little arms around his neck, her laughter filling his ears.
"You'll protect me," she said cheerily, pulling back and giving him the widest grin. "I trust you."
You shouldn't trust anyone, a grim voice echoed in his head and 'Rhen frowned. Where had that come from? He would never say such things to Evelline. Straightening his face, he pushed the thought away, dismissing it as remnants of his past.
"Always," 'Rhen smiled back, heart filling with joy he couldn't contain. "Otherwise, your mom would kill me!" He teased Evelline's hair and she pulled back in protest, giving him a halfhearted glare.
"She wouldn't," she said, though 'Rhen could sense a lack of conviction. Keeper Istimaethoriel was a stern woman who brooked no nonsense. She was a great leader to her people and cared deeply for everyone in her clan. But nothing compared to the love she had for her daughter. Knowing this, 'Rhen understood just how much trust she placed in him, allowing him to watch over Evelline for her.
"She would, too! I'm more afraid of her than of any sh- bear!" He said, feigning fear. He had to catch himself, make a correction, remembering that he had to change, for her sake. Evelline did not deserve to grow up with the hate he had in his heart.
"Liar!" she laughed. "I bet you're not afraid of anything!" She uttered the words with pride, taking a warrior's stance and brandishing a stick she had picked up. She waived it around wildly, copying his practice moves, a fierce look on her face. "I'm gonna be just like you when I grow up!"
I hope not. 'Rhen dodged out of the way as Evelline swung at him.
"I think you'll be much better than me," he said and smiled. How had he lucked into such an undeserved life? He had finally found a semblance of peace. A family. Acceptance. He watched Evelline swing through endearingly awful imitation of his routine, trying not to laugh. Still, something nagged at him, a feeling of dread he couldn't quite shake. A darkness lurking just beyond the horizon. He looked up at the gathering clouds in the sky. They twisted and churned with the promise of a terrible storm.
"'Rhen?" Evelline's hands caught his face and she looked at him with earnestness no child should be capable of, eyes wider than the full moon. "We'll always be together, right?"
"Of- of course," he said, brows knitting together. The question caught him off guard and he searched her face for any indication of what might have brought it on. But whatever it was, it was already gone and Evelline was back to her carefree self, twirling the stick in a dance only she knew the steps to.
Dorian jolted awake to the sound of frantic knocking on his door, nearly falling out of the chair. He hadn't intended to, but he had dozed off waiting for 'Rhen to return, exhaustion taking its toll. They had walked so Maker damned much he had nearly agreed to pitch a tent on the next street they happened upon. What a sight that would have been. Though, if Dorian were honest, it probably wouldn't have been the worst place they'd camped at. He shivered at the memory of spending nights on the beaches of Storm Coast.
Rolling out of the chair, Dorian raked his fingers through is hair and squeezed his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. The knocking came again, more urgent this this time, and something about it gave Dorian pause.
'Rhen…
His heart dropped like a stone.
Not again…
He scrambled for the door, cursing at himself. He should have known better than to let Lavellan go off on his own. The frazzled inn keeper greeted him with an expression stuck somewhere between bewilderment and concern.
"Where is he?" Dorian asked, not giving her a chance to explain. He pushed past her to find the Inquisitor curled into a ball on the floor by the room next door. If Dorian thought he couldn't possibly feel worse, he certainly proved himself wrong. "Kaffas… What happened?" he demanded, despite knowing full well the poor inn keeper probably knew far less than he. Kneeling by 'Rhen, he cursed again and again, checking for vitals. 'Rhen was pale and feverish, forehead dotted with sweat and body shivering uncontrollably, a string of incoherent muttering escaping on barely audible breath.
Dorian knew this was bound to happen again at some point. Damnation, he was expecting it! And still… After a moment of hesitation, Dorian rummaged in 'Rhen's pockets and pulled out the still full vial of lyrium. "You stubborn idiot," he cursed under his breath.
"Is your friend going to be alright?" the innkeeper asked, wringing her hands with worry.
"He's not my-! Kaffas." Dorian cut himself off and closed his fist around the vial. There was no point in arguing about the inconsequential. Now was the time for action. He did his best to regain composure and turned to face the innkeeper. "Send for the Inquisition soldiers at the barracks. Tell them to have Stonegate ready the horses immediately." A look of incredulity crossed the woman's face as her eyes darted towards 'Rhen and understanding dawned upon her. Thankfully, she seemed to also understand the severity of the situation and did not stick around to ask questions.
When she hurried off, Dorian carefully gathered 'Rhen into his arms.
Shouts and screams rose in the distance as the sky on the horizon deepened with crimson shades. The air itself became oppressive, heavy with taste of iron. 'Rhen jumped up, instinctively taking a defensive stance and ushering Evelline behind him. His hand reached behind his back for his sword. But it wasn't there. In a moment of confusion and panic, 'Rhen grasped at the empty air, willing the sword into existence.
A simple blade, finely crafted with inlaid silverite and grip shaped by heartwood wrapped in inscribed leather, materialized in his hand. Narrow with a gentle curve, it felt light in his hands, familiar. A gift from master Galen to 'Rhen after he had received his vallaslin and named the clan's protector.
A gift he had lost at the Conclave.
'Rhen frowned as conflicting memories fought for control of his mind.
No, that couldn't be right. He had asked the Keeper to send someone else. Someone more qualified. He had stayed and… He had stayed, right?
Dread sunk its teeth into 'Rhen and he reached out for Evelline, scanning his surroundings for signs of danger. He needed to draw her near, to protect her. He had promised. But Evelline was gone and 'Rhen found himself alone surrounded by empty houses entombed in darkness and an oppressive sense of wrongness.
I've been here before… 'Rhen thought, stifling the rising panic. This wasn't home. Not his home, anyway. Not the home he had grown to know and love. But he had been here before. Under the cover of darkness, with nothing but vengeance in his heart. He looked about again, calling for Evelline, as his eyes adjusted to low light. The screams in the distance drew nearer and 'Rhen could just make out the sinister laughter that haunted his sleep for years after his escape. The laughter only a human could make as he dipped the blade of his knife into unwilling flesh of a 'knife-ear'.
A monster.
Horrifying visions invaded his mind. Blood, guts, limbs strewn about. And in the middle of it all, a small, mangled body.
No…
An all-encompassing rage swallowed 'Rhen whole, a snarl twisting his face. Not again. Not this time. This time he wouldn't fail. He would kill them all if he had to.
It didn't take much effort for Dorian to get the Inquisitor off the floor and onto one of the large couches. With how little 'Rhen weighed these days, it probably wouldn't take a breeze much effort to blow him over. It hurt Dorian to watch him waste away like this. If he hadn't known 'Rhen and someone had described him to Dorian as he was a year ago, he wouldn't have believed it. What lay before him was a mere shadow of the man he had met in Redcliffe what felt like an eternity ago.
He swept the matted hair from 'Rhen's face and pulled one of the furs off the other seat and draped it over him. Try as he might, Dorian couldn't get through to 'Rhen. Whatever had him in its grasp was not willing to let go and the longer this went on, the more Dorian feared the worst. Either this was one of the worst cases of withdrawal he'd seen or something else was at play. Something far more dangerous.
"Tell me how to help you," Dorian pleaded quietly, hunching over on the edge of the heavy table, and placing a hand over 'Rhen's forehead. "Tell me what I can do."
The skin felt flushed under Dorian's touch. A fever was setting in. He cursed softly and placed his other hand firmly against 'Rhen's chest, allowing the primal magics to flow through him. The air crystallized around his hands and escaped from 'Rhen's parted mouth in a puff of icy breath. He wove the ancient words together, careful to hold back enough to prevent lasting damage, glad to be doing at least something.
Dorian held the spell for as long as he dared, pulling his hands back when frost began to form on his fingertips. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying desperately to not let the dark thoughts consume him. There was still so much he didn't know, so many secrets and shadows and it worried him that this was just the beginning. How deep did the Inquisitor's madness go? At the Circle, they taught you how to break the mind. How to twists it, crack it, shatter it. But not how to fix it. He could wake the dead, for Maker's sake! But this? He felt like a novice all over again, wide eyed and lost.
"Come back to me, Amatus." He left his hand resting on 'Rhen's chest, afraid that if he let go, 'Rhen would slip away for good.
The clouds above turned an angry shade of red, churning violently and spilling rain onto the cobbled streets. It thundered as the raindrops hit the roofs, drowning out the cries and in the distance, lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the streets in brilliant green. 'Rhen slicked his hair back and wiped the rain off his face, washing off blood splatters, then kicked the corpse off his sword's blade. It slumped to the ground with a splash, blood mixing with rainwater in a macabre swirl. Around him, the group of humans put their blades up defensively, though their eyes betrayed their fear. They had to know they were no match for him.
"Where is she?" 'Rhen demanded, turning slowly to meet each of their faces. As they took a cautious step forward, their silence was all he needed to know. Raising his sword, he lunged forward, slicing through flesh with one swift stroke. Then, deftly spinning, he flipped the blade to face the other way, and drove it through the belly of the human behind him. With no time to pause, 'Rhen pulled the blade out, blood and guts spilling onto the ground, and swung it around at his next target. This was what he was best at. His purpose. This maddening dance of death. He sidestepped an attack, a growl escaping his clenched teeth, and used the pommel of his sword to deliver a brutal hit to the back of his opponent's head. The human stumbled, dazed, unaware that he was already dead.
'Rhen lost himself in the rhythm of battle, each movement calculated and precise. Not even the rain slowed him down, now coming down in a heavy downpour. He swung his sword around in a wide arc in front of him, slicing through rain and flesh, unfeeling. As the last body dropped with a splash into a puddle, 'Rhen shook the blood from his sword and finally took stock of his surroundings.
The stench of death and taste of iron hung around him like a shadow. He was alone except-
'Rhen's sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground as a chill settled deep in his chest, spreading to his very fingertips. Around him, the storm turned into an icy tempest, battering his body with hail.
All breath left him, staggering him.
No… no no no… No!
"Isa'ma'lin…"
'Rhen rushed forward to catch Evelline before she crumpled to the ground, her little hands wrapped around her body, trying to stem the flow of blood. He fell to his knees, gathering her in his arms, pulling her close.
No, no, this wasn't supposed to happen!
"Isa'ma'lin…" Her voice was barely a whimper, blood trickling from her mouth. "Halan'em… isa'ma'lin, halan'em…"
'Rhen pressed his shaking hand to her wound, frantically looking around for something to stop the bleeding. This was wrong … He was supposed to save her! He was supposed to…
"Hold on," 'Rhen pleaded, chocking back sobs, "hold on, little one." He watched in horror as life faded from her bright green eyes, arms dropping limply by her sides.
"Evelline?" He shook her lightly to no response. "No… Evelline…!"
'Rhen felt sick, anguish swallowing him completely as he pulled her body close to his chest, cradling her head. This couldn't be. He wasn't supposed to fail. He wasn't. Green energy exploded around him as he turned his face up to the sky and let out a howl.
In his head, a dark and familiar voice laughed.
Shall we, once more with style?
