Chapter Two: From On High
Anders ducked his head under some low lying branches. The shade of the leaves saw a drop in temperature, and although the morning fog had long-since dissipated a humid tang hung in the warmth that managed to trickle through the boughs. And although there were millions of discarded leaves littering the forest floor, Anders found that his steps were oddly muted as the moss spread from beneath his every step. Remus was not so lucky, however, and had hastily cast a spell to silence his footfalls as flowers slowly sprouted around him. Naoya's footsteps were naturally quiet, but even moreso muffled by the soft clover that followed him.
Remus studied the plants as they walked. Despite the strangeness of their surroundings, the mystery of the plant's very existence was something much more curious. Why were they all different? Why did they grow at all? Examining the wolfsbane flowers beginning to bloom in his path, the irony of his own plant was not lost on him. He could only guess as to what the other plants might mean, if anything at all. Chewing on the inside of his lip, it was hard to steady a mind rattling with questions. The sooner they found a shelter, the sooner the might find some answers. With renewed vigor, he set his sights on the horizon rather than the ground. Gazing through the trees, he watched carefully for any sign of a shelter, or any sign of movement.
Above them, the darkening sky was littered with stars, which burned brighter than before as night seemed to crawl ever closer. Faint like embers against the burning sun, in it's fading reaches they now flourished and bloomed against the blue-grey sky. Through the breaks in the green overhead, foreign constellations and entire galaxies danced within the small windows. They peeked in and out of the clouds rolling overhead like curious gods blazing across the heavens, igniting it with life. And a moon, pale white and scarred by ancient craters, yawned peacefully as it drifted through space high in the unreachable expanse. As it rose from the horizon, unnoticed by the trio far below, it signaled to the forest that night would soon be coming. The sentinel would watch with disinterest, gazing down upon the creatures of the world as a benign entity. Soon, the wolves would howl to their goddess and the bats would feast in her silvery embrace.
But for now, the sun was still up. For now, the lost travelers still had a chance. For now, the forest was calm. But only for now.
Naoya let out a sigh, breaking the silence. "So what happens when we can't find a place and those things come back," his voice was musical and crisp but carried with it a somberness, like windchimes. Those things were like the lower Darklore demons, and if they hunted like pack Darklore – then they would certainly be back. Curious and wary of the three of them, but the creatures would be back. He shrugged off the tired looks he received from his older traveling companions; though he himself was exhausted, he had trained himself to carry himself with the same posture as always. "Do we stop and light a fire and wait for them to come back? Do we keep exploding them, or do we hope that Andy has enough juice back to call in another storm?"
"Hopefully none of those things," Remus replied, tugging a stray leaf from his hair. "If we can find something fairly enclosed, it won't take much to properly secure it."
That was, if they ever found a place. They had been walking for hours, to no avail. The forest was endless, churning on all sides with strange flora and fauna. Already they had encountered a glen split by a small river, surrounded by fireflies. The muddy shoreline was flecked with odd footprints. Creatures none of them had ever seen or heard of made sounds both wondrous and horrifying as they trekked further into the unknown depths, making the journey tense and uncertain. A shelter was long overdue, by now–surely something would show up for them soon? A cave, a cliff–just something to protect them from the wind and rain would be a palace at this point. As exhausted as he was, Remus would give up sleep to keep watch if need be–just to have a place to hunker down for the night. It was odd that this familiar struggle would set him back so poorly, Remus mused. He'd camped out in plenty of forests before. He had the experience and knowledge to survive, as several years living on the street will teach one. In the back of his mind, he thought he ought to chastise himself. But this wasn't the forests of England. This wasn't home at all. These forests were different, foreign–wild, even. Like they had never seen the presence of Man. Indeed, it seemed that the same could be said of this entire place, or at least what they had so far seen of it. The clothing and demeanor of his traveling companions aside, the daytime stars, the creatures, his spinning wand… these were things that could not be so easily dismissed. There was plenty of evidence to support the terrifying theory Remus had chosen to ignore thus far: the theory that this was some other world entirely.
That only lead to more questions than answers, and Remus cursed under his breath as he reminded himself that he had much more important things to worry about at the moment. They could only get so far in the tangled vines and brush, and Remus chewed his tongue as he debated whether they should just make a makeshift lean-to and just hope for the best. It seemed hopeless, otherwise. But if they did nothing, they would surely spend the night worse for wear. Even with the aid of magic, it would take time to build any sort of hideout, and even longer to secure something so flimsy from the wind, let alone whatever nocturnal beasts roamed the forest come nightfall. Silently, he half-wished the light had brought them all somewhere else. The longer they walked, the more shadows bolted through the woods. Stray sticks snapped of unnatural accord. Remus rubbed the back of his neck, resisting the urge to look back and around.
Something terrible shrieked up ahead and bolted skyward, leaving tumbling leaves trailing to earth in columns of sunlight. Massive wings could be heard pushing it from the canopy as it fled, and only when it vanished from earshot did the trio relax.
"I forgot what a bother the woods can be," Anders muttered suddenly as he hitched his staff behind him again. "It's been so long since I've seen anything outside the city, I missed them. Perhaps I ought to rethink my stance on wildfires."
Remus offered a light, sarcastic grunt. "At least then we might see some sort of landmark. I admit I'm surprised we haven't found a path or a road… Not even an animal trail. If I only had a broomstick, we could get above the treeline and see where we are."
"Why would a broomstick help us?"
Naoya, who wandered just a few steps behind them, arched his brows and tilted his head to the side, unimpressed with the conversation's direction.
"Oh, back home they are very common. For flying," Remus added, seeing the confusion on Anders' face. "They're enchanted."
Naoya tilted his head to the opposite side, sighing quietly out of his nose.
"Ah," Anders nodded, but the look was hesitant to vanish. "So magic is common where you're from?"
"In a sense. Not everyone can use it–in fact, there are more Muggles than there are witches or wizards."
"'Muggles'?"
"Sorry–that is the name for the people who can't use magic. Most of them don't even know it exists. Hundreds of years ago, the magical community went into hiding."
Naoya held his head up straight and mockingly widened his eyes, pretending he was surprised by the definition of the word 'muggle'.
Anders couldn't hide his surprise, and barely missed a root jutting out from the earth. "I can't imagine what that's like. Where I'm from, such a thing is unheard of."
"Oh?" Remus looked to the mage.
Naoya rolled his eyes. "And here we go," he silently mouthed.
"In Thedas," he explained, carefully selecting his words, "anyone born with the gift of magic is seen as cursed. They're abducted as soon as they show signs of magic and thrown into the Circle to learn how to control their gifts. We are never allowed to leave. The people are taught to fear mages, and those of us who dare speak out against the injustices are thrown in prison. Or, worse…" He wanted to continue, but a topic of such caliber was really not suited for field trips with complete strangers. They would learn about him soon enough. Besides, Anders thought it best to leave out the Rite of Tranquility; to leave out the torture, the demons, the brutality of the Templars… A savage bitterness welled up within at the thought, and Anders felt Justice begin to pulse somewhere inside. Immediately, he stopped. "At least it's not raining," he offered casually, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eyes. "Usually, when I go traveling, I always get stuck in the rain…"
"'Thedas,'" Remus repeated. He bent down to avoid another dangling limb in their way, and his eyes were cast this way and that to search for more entangling debris. But his lips hung open a bit as words pressed on his tongue, and Anders waited patiently. "I don't think that sounds like any place I know. I'm from a city called London. At least, that's where I had a pillow: I was in the city looking for work."
"Are you a refugee?" Anders wondered if the sickly appearance had anything to do with a war, or maybe even something as horrid as the Blight.
"No, nothing so dire. I just don't have much for resources, so I do a lot of travelling. Living below the poverty line forces a lot of people to do what I do. It's not always easy finding work, so we have to make due."
"Oh," Anders replied meekly, understanding full and well a well-dressed statement of homelessness when he saw one. And he was not one to judge: technically, his clinic was less a home than it was a walk-in bedroom. And before he had even had that, the number of times fleeing the Circle had left him scrambling for shelter. Not many farmers wanted a strange, coinless mage sleeping in their barns for the night, nor did the Templars make trips into the towns and villages a welcoming respite from the cold. "I know how hard that can be," he said, hoping his sincerity was evident.
"What do you do?" Remus asked. Anders saw him run his eyes over the length of his wardrobe, sizing him up.
"I'm a doctor," he said. "I run a hospice."
Remus cocked him a brow, suddenly impressed. But he came to an abrupt stop, his features resembling a dog that had just scented a rabbit. Pointing off to the far left, Anders craned his neck to catch a glimpse of whatever it was up ahead.
"Is that–?"
"Wood! Yes," he agreed. He pretended not to hear Naoya's comment about how 'it was all wood, all around.' "Those timbers are old, though. Very old."
It was almost invisible against the background of trunks and leaves, but trailing his gaze up a small, winding creek, Anders could see a small cabin. The hushed glint of dirty window panes greeted them as they approached, the intact glass almost overgrown with weeds but still visible. Raised garden beds long since consumed by grasses were still visible by the front door, and the chimney had begun to crumble under the constant battle from the elements. The structure was desperately in need of cosmetic attention, but from what they could see outside, it was still sound. And by the Maker, Anders would never have imagined that an abandoned, spider-infested shanty could look so good. And they were lucky to have spotted it at all in the miles of wilderness. He guessed that if they had just taken a few steps further, they would have lost it. He wondered vaguely if they had passed many houses like that without ever knowing.
The front door was slightly ajar, and so they approached with as much caution as starving, very lost travelers are wont. Weapons at the ready, they burst in–and succeeded in scaring off a family of raccoons that were naturally incensed with their eviction. As the last of the stripped tails disappeared into the forest, the three companions were free to take the first look around their new home. There was not much to speak of, and it was hardly more appealing than the outside. A worn table and single chair, a hutch-turned-workshop littered with dried flower petals and a mortar and pestle, and a bed made of tired, creaking wood. The mattress was hay, and the blanket was a patchwork of animal furs. A bundle of small pelts wrapped with leather strings served as a pillow. A broom lay against the hutch, though the twig bristles were caked with a surface layer of thick dust–as was the rest of the room. As the men entered, they covered their faces with their sleeves as clouds swirled around their legs. Closing the door behind them cast them all in near darkness, and they wiped grit from the filthy windows to restore some light. A half-melted candlestick lay dormant on the desk, and Remus touched the tip of his wand to it. For a brief moment it sputtered and smoked before finally catching a flame. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
Not bothering to clean the messes left under the bed by the former residents, each of them scanned for a spot to throw himself and collapsed there. They could work for their comfort later. But now, as they glanced back and forth amongst one another in the dim gloom of the cabin, the world seemed much darker than before. Much wider. Much lonelier.
Naoya prodded the bed. "I, like, think the bed might have rabies. One of you guys can have it," he commented, before wandering over to the window. He used the edge of his hand to clean a moderate portion of the dirty glass and looked outside.
Settled in the corner, Remus pressed his face into his hands. This was all so wrong, so bizarre. Just hours ago he had been forced under an underpass to escape the snow, listening to the cars pass overhead unaware of his miserable existence below their feet. He'd been alone, cold, and desperate. But in the blink of an eye, he found himself stranded Merlin knows where, together with two very strange people who obviously had no knowledge of one another… And it was summer here, for God's sake. He realized how hot he had become now that he could finally rest, and went to strip off his coat.
"Ah," he hissed, peeling the dried flannel away from his now broken scabs. In their rush to escape, he'd forgotten about his wound. At the touch of open air, the angry flesh stung as though it were a newly damaged.
"Are you hurt?"
Remus looked up to see Anders watching him. The gash on his cheek had been healed completely, and the mage scraped his fingers against the skin to remove the dried blood.
"It's not bad," Remus returned. "I can manage." He pulled out his wand to try and heal it, but Anders took a few steps towards him.
"Does it need healing?" he offered.
Remus hesitated, but he couldn't help being curious. Anders didn't take on any of the usual characteristics of any Healer back home. Indeed, he seemed more fit for battle than for medicine, and Remus found himself oddly curious. He held out his arm and watched his skin heal and stitch together under the direction of a warm, blue light. In an instant, the pain was gone and although the area was tender there was no more need for concern. It was not like any magic Remus had ever seen, and he would definitely be sure to ask about it later.
"Thank you," he said, flexing his wrist and forearm.
Anders nodded, and checked on Naoya before pulling up the desk chair and resting his chin in in his hand. Glancing around the room, his brow raised uncomfortably. "There's no bathroom," he announced. "And this forest is a deathtrap. If I have to answer the call of nature, someone's coming with me."
"I'll hold your hand, but I'm not going to shake it for you," Naoya smirked. Rummaging around in his pocket, he popped open the top of a mostly-full box of cigarettes. Naoya leaned against the rotten sill of the cracked window, the end of his smoke between his lips as he cupped his hands to light it – feigning as if he had a lighter. "So, then," he said after sliding his "lighter" back into his pocket, "I'm Naoya, you're Remus, and you're Anders. We know that much." He nodded to Anders. "You're a mage with a big magic stick." Then he motioned to Remus. "And you're a... magic guy with a little stick. And I'm not a magic guy of any kind. Any ideas as to why we're all here?" He turned his head and glanced out the window, pausing in his smoke thoughtfully. He thought he had seen something outside, felt something outside, but then it was gone. Poof! Like that. Place was getting weirder and weirder. "And why we're all trailing plants outside?"
"I haven't the faintest of ideas," Anders shrugged, raising his brow at the comments about magic. "Although," he said, glancing between the three of them, "given that we're all from different places and somehow all came here the exact same way, I'd guess that it was probably intentional. My question is why."
"That still doesn't explain the plants," Remus added. "Let's see: Naoya, you have clover. And Anders, yours is moss, was it not? And," he half sighed, "I have wolfsbane." Remus shifted his feet, glancing at the floor. The only plants to be found on the hardwood were discarded leaves blown in during their entrance and the vestiges of the raccoon den. Nothing alive, nothing growing. "They don't seem to be able to follow us indoors. Clearly, there's some magic involved. They grow too quickly to be anything short of it."
"That itty bitty bit of magic is something I'll admit to, but it's not me doing it," Naoya added and agreed, calmly exhaling a breath of smoke. He stood as if he were far less distressed by their circumstances, the only thing betraying him was the way he idly pulled at the rotting wood of the sill with his free hand. "So we were all magically picked to come to this magic place and help start a magic garden." He took in a sharp breath, drawing on his cigarette, smirking. "Just magical isn't it?" The teenager lightly chuckled.
Anders looked Naoya up and down. "I saw what you were doing to fight those monsters. We've all got a bit of it to go on, by the looks of it. That could be why we were all drawn here to begin with."
Naoya eyed him right back. "Naoya Itsuki is not magic," he said flatly. "He is the opposite of magic. He is..." His sleek features scrunched slightly, trying to think of a word. "He is more science-y, not magic-y."
"'Not magic-y?' You have the Maker's gifts. I've seen you use them. If you're not magic, I'm a monkey."
"Congratulations. You're a monkey."
Anders opened his mouth to respond, but it was Remus who spoke next. "It doesn't matter what we are," he said, extending his palms slightly to issue peace. "The only thing that matters now is what we're going to do. Look," he said, rolling his wrists, "we have no idea where we are, or how we got here. Supposing Anders is correct and we were indeed brought here, then it makes sense that someone could be searching for us. And with the plants, we are very easy to track. Whatever the reasons we were brought here, I think it's clear that there is no benign intent. We need to accept that until we know what's going on, we could all still be in danger."
"Either way," said Anders, peeking out the window, "I don't think we'll be going anywhere soon. It's getting dark. And I don't know about any of you, but I'd prefer not to wake up in something's belly."
"We can do our best to shore up in here," Remus said, tilting his neck back to look around. "But tomorrow, we should leave."
"But where do we go?"
It was a question that none of them could answer, and it left a stinging silence in the center of the room. Suddenly, a low grumbling issued from Naoya's corner, and both heads turned to look his way.
"Well," Remus sighed, "for right now, maybe we should get something to eat."
A search of their home for the night lead to the discovery of three sources of food: some moldy bread that was hidden under the table, a moldy blob of what was once cheese next to the moldy bread, and a crow's nest nestled high up in the rafters – home to a pair of crows who were very upset upon being chased out of their nest. Remus and Anders had managed to start a small fire in the worn-out hearth, cooking the five eggs they had robbed the crow couple of and that Naoya had refused to eat. The rest of the night proceeded in silence between the three, with each of them retiring to a separate part of the shack. Anders steadied himself in the old chair, resting against the table; while Naoya warmed himself by the dying embers of the fire – the only one who fell asleep was Remus, who had hunkered down in one of the more clean corners of the cabin.
Overhead, branches scraped gently against the roof and Naoya drew himself flush against the crumbling, still warm stonework. He rested his chin in the crook of his elbow, amber eyes watching the fading reds flicker in the small pile of ash. Every scratch of branches, every change in Remus's sleeping breath, every time Anders moved his creaky chair – Naoya was beginning to suspect that Anders was doing it intentionally, especially after the fourth or fifth time – every little sudden sound made him tense more and hold his breath. He had never been outside of Tokyo; he had never been camping. Camping wasn't high on his list of things he wanted to do in the middle of fighting in the War and trying to keep his family afloat. Neither was eating crow eggs. Naoya was hungry, sure, but he'd gone to bed hungry before, it wasn't uncommon. Briefly, he wondered if eating random things someone found in the woods was a magic-user thing or simply a human thing – either way, it was no wonder to the young EGO that both those things were probably going to die out.
A tight feeling gripped his chest, and he closed his eyes – expanding his empathic senses for what he could feel. His senses told him that something was tense, something was waiting baitedly, something was curious, and that there was more than one something.
THUD! The roof above shook, dust and crumbles scattering to the floor, and the sounds of claws positioning themselves on the old shingles came as whatever was out there settled down.
"I'm going to guess that's not Santa Claus..." Naoya quickly pushed himself away from the fireplace, scrambling to his feet.
The creature that had taken roost on the roof hung down to peer inside. Its dark face was like the mutant child of a shark and a bat, glowing yellow eyes hot with a wild but commanded feralness, quills that ran down the back of its furred form perking curiously as it searched the house. Its pupils moved with its eyes, it looked to Anders, then waivered over to Remus. It didn't seem to consider Naoya, or if it did, it didn't consider him as interesting as Remus. It tilted its head, joints and bones cracking, as if Remus's presence was confusing it.
Slowly, the EGO turned his head, eyes widening at the monster watching them. "Oh my god," he spoke lowly. Careful to not move or speak suddenly. It wanted to attack them, he could sense it, but he also sensed that something was holding it back; like it was a dog waiting patiently for table scraps. "I don't think it's going to attack us-" No sooner had the words left his mouth, the monster opened its mouth wide and let out a horrible, screeching roar. Naoya had nothing to compare it to, and no quips to make about it. The screeching shook him and he responded by blasting the thing, and incidentally the window, with psi – leaving a broken wall. "What the hell is that thing!?"
"Blighted forest!" Anders cursed, scanning past his sleeve through the dust and debris for any sign of movement. He coughed quickly, bringing his staff to a ready at his side. At his behest, Anders could feel it begin to pulse with mana beneath his grip. Like an electric hum, the red steel vibrated with energy that only he could feel. It cooled from within, beginning to glow with a pale blue light as frost wove jagged lines down the metal body. Freedom's Call creaked and groaned as she worked, but more than anything else, Anders knew he could depend on this weapon to save his life. And perhaps even better: to take his enemy's. With a fluid motion, Anders twirled the staff above him and began to churn the air. With a deep whoosh, he swung it down as hard as he could muster and splintered the wooden floor. A blast of cold air rushed out from all sides, scattering the dust away from them and clearing the way. Fog rolled out from Anders' lips as he controlled his breathing, steadying his focus in preparation for war.
Beside him, Remus had regained his footing and composure. Obviously exhausted, he gripped his wand rather shakily. But his gaze was steady and he tracked dark shadows bolting through the residual mist.
"They're in the trees!" he spoke, keeping his voice as low as possible. He pointed his wand at the closest of them, stiffening his shoulders. "They're waiting."
In the calm, chittering and howling broke the stillness of the air. The noise sent shivers up Remus' spine. The clattering on the roof was what woke him, but the face in the window was what sent him into high alert. This predator was so different from the last, and yet in such a wretched way they were more familiar. Every time they howled, Remus was reminded of his own kind: of the werewolves. He watched them, even as their glowing, yellow orbs stared back, fixed points of firefly light in the dark. The sent splinters of ice shooting down the length of his spine. Whatever these things were, he would see to it they did not remain close to him for very long.
With the single snapping of a twig, an explosion of violence ignited the attack. Jumping high from the trees, several dog-like forms were briefly silhouetted against the beckoning moon as they extended their claws and launched themselves towards their prey. Red blood looked black in the silvery light as it was splayed from their limbs, and several bodies fell to the dirt with a sickly smack as Anders struck out with a spike of razor-sharp ice. In the same stroke, he brought his staff down upon the nose of another, tearing flesh that instantly froze upon contact with the steel. It shrieked and clawed at its own rotten maw, unaware of Naoya's crushing wave of psi until it was far too late.
Not far from the others, Remus ducked as one of the wolf-monsters launched itself towards him with barred fangs. It collided with the wall beside him with an unpleasant crunch and barked, a high-pitched, wounded sound. Remus dispatched it with a wave of his wand. How many of them were there? Looking out beyond the carnage, Remus thought the firefly-eyes extended deep into the pitch black of the woods. A coldness gripped his heart and he couldn't help the slight drop in his wand-arm. He didn't think they could take much more of this—they barely escaped with their lives the first time! Another shriek as the next of the dogs was flung into the air by his magic. It couldn't end this way—no matter what, they had to see this through. They were going to push through this mess, or they were going to die trying.
The only thing that he couldn't be sure of was which of those it would be.
Anders rushed at a group of several of the creatures trying to force their way in through the hole all at once. As soon as the wood began to creak and they broke free, he swung his staff in a high arc above his head and cast it out like a sword. Although it struck nothing but air, enormous spikes of ice rose from the floor in a thick, sweeping trail that followed the motion of the staff. Spinning around, Anders swung his staff again—this time, striking the frozen forms of the canine monstrosities as they shattered like glass. He could hear more of them along the roof, now, and scaling through the canopy above. He panted heavily, and in the pause between combatants Anders sorely wished for a lyrium potion. He could feel his mana reserves had run low in the sickly, depleted and weak feeling inside of his body. He could still fight, it was not that—more, a drain, like after losing significant blood. He had once compared himself to a wilting flower among the Wardens, so that they might understand. But anyone who flung himself at darkspawn using a sharp stick was not likely to do so, and it came as no surprise when they laughed. Anders' head spun, and for a moment he stepped back to the others as he gathered himself.
"I can't do much more of this," he said, and he could see it in their eyes that neither could they. "Think, Anders, think…"
But for all his racing thoughts told him, Anders realized that they were trapped. They couldn't go into the forest again. Even if they were foolish enough to try and not get lost, those wolf-beasts were experts in the trees. He could hear them yipping and howling at one another, both above him and all around. No, there was no way out of this but through. And Anders gripped his staff tighter as he realized just how screwed they were. He barely noticed when cracks of blue—white light began to flicker across his skin, spreading over his clothes. A tug at the back of his mind pulled Anders away from the moment, and for a half second he wondered if it was his body about to collapse. But, he felt himself move. Distantly, from impossibly far off. And he heard Justice's booming voice shouting from his mouth. Like a flipped switch, Justice had taken control. Anders maintained a grasp long enough to see himself turn and face a new pack of monsters rushing in from outside.
A flash of light drew Remus from his frantic search around the cabin. He turned, blinking heavily through the sudden intensity of the glow. Anders's entire body was wrapped in crackling, jagged lines of light, and his eyes were white as suns. From his steps, the moss became intermingled with wisps of dark blue and black smoke, as if his very form was burning the air around him.
"Gather yourselves," Anders said, but his voice was no longer his own. Much deeper, much stronger, it commanded respect and dared listeners to challenge it. "They will return in force," he said, slamming the staff into the ground. "Prepare for the worst, and do not be overcome."
Naoya narrowed his eyes at the glowing mage, heavy bags etched into his smooth skin highlighting his suspicion. "I'm not even going to ask," he said, turning away to face one of the creatures. It was obvious that it was a magic trick of some kind, probably one where the caster let some sort of higher being channel through their body for a power boost, Naoya reasoned. The feeling that glowstick-version-Anders gave his empathic senses was overbearing; it was a burning righteousness that made Naoya's stomach churn. He tried to ignore it, but it was difficult – what with the man running around, shouting at the top of his lungs, like a rave party caught on fire.
When the wave of monsters finally struck, Anders—or whoever this was—swung the staff again, blazing a trail of fire that scattered the beasts with shrill yelps of fear and pain. The air was ripe with the stench of burnt fur, and Remus watched as Anders actually began to step into the gaping mouth of the wall. When he turned to beckon them onward, Remus felt the weight of those glowing eyes like a blow to the stomach. It was as though he missed a step taking the stairs: this definitely wasn't Anders. Remus hesitated before following, with Naoya coming right behind him.
Turning to the creature, Justice widened his stance, spinning the staff and creating arcs of light. He flung the end of the staff, sending out quick shots of magic–each move graceful and expertly done. A blue fist of energy shot up from the ground and caught the nearest beast, flinging it into the trunk of a tree with a horrific snap. More swarmed around him, snapping at him and receiving a sharp crack across their jaws. When the bolts of energy from the staff weren't being used, it was ice from his hand or shots of pure mana. Careful steps kept him moving, and Justice watched carefully for the powerful maws of their enemies.
The effort of taking control of their shared body made Anders more vulnerable: Justice was righteous, Justice was fury… He was not accustomed to a physical form and the pain that accompanied damage. Each time he took over, he put Anders at risk for injury from the sheer invulnerability of spirits. Anders could break. Justice could not. And with that in mind, Justice lashed the dragon-headed staff down upon the back of the beast who dared an attempt at biting. Blood splattered across the blue mages robes he wore, and even dotted his cheeks. But he noticed only briefly, as he felt Anders object somewhere within. He roared, casting a violet explosion of electricity from his extended arm, and he watched with satisfaction as the bolt arced through three of the monsters at once. They fell into a heap some distance away, and Justice let out a challenging roar to the rest of the firefly-eyes: this wasn't over.
The nearly full moon hung overhead, nearly consumed by incoming rainclouds but still bright enough to illuminate the dark forest and the ring of inhuman bodies that Anders had scattered. Naoya could sense them. He could have put up a binding shield, but the creatures weren't from where he was – and in the middle of a fight was a terrible time to find out that something didn't work. The psychic briefly debated causing a mass hallucination, but with Anders doing his best impression of a nuclear dinosaur that plan was useless. All around, he felt their presence and saw their eyes glitter. They jittered and yowled, sure that something had happened... but they weren't sure of what, and held their positions. There were different kinds, he noted. Smaller, skinnier, darker ones; and bulkier, white ones - like it was a jock taking steroids. There was one sitting up in a tree, its fur a stark pure white. It threw its head back and let out a chirping, barking noise. The fatty white ones replied with other tones, and the white one in the tree shifted, waiting for something to happen below. Naoya swallowed hard as he locked eyes with the stark white one. That one was the leader, and knew exactly what was happening.
A loud, deep, howl filled the air; it was commanding, and unlike the lesser breeds the alpha's tone was crisp. The onslaught fanned out, creating a circle around the outside of the trio and leaving Justice and the front of the cabin in the center. The large, ghostly white form in the tree shifted and jumped high, landing on skilled padded feet. Unlike the darker ones with their quilled backs, it had extra white fur on its lanky body; and unlike the other white ones, its form was precisely muscled. Its glowing eyes were intelligent. Its snout was defined. It stood high above its footsoldiers, a towering form on level with the house. It stalked the inner circle, around the man standing by the pile of its dead pack.
Justice turned, angry puffs of steam issuing from a stiff expression as frost killed the moss under his boots. So this was their leader. A demon. Foul. Fierce. Controlled. Not to be taken lightly, to be sure. There was an intelligence about this one, Justice sensed, meeting the beast's eye unafraid. He let a powerful sigh escape him, though his shoulders hardly moved. It was a power grab: a wordless expression that indicated his unwillingness to back down.
We can't do this by ourselves, he thought, and Justice knew that those were Anders' words even before he could feel the mage start to come forward in the back of his mind.
We need this, he sent back, trying to reassure his friend. Both of them could see it: combining their resources could save them from this, and the alternative was death. Not that that would bother Justice, of course, but Anders was his friend. His only friend, at that. And neither of them wished to stay here in this realm. Justice himself would rather return to the Fade, to breathe the air beyond the Veil once more. But there was no sign that this place was even connected to it. And so he had to fight. He had to fight for them. They both did.
Justice brought Freedom's Call to bear at that moment, grasping it with an unshaking grip as he demonstrated to all the blood coating the golden dragon's head.
"I cannot bear the sight of these beasts anymore," he said, fixing his gaze upon the grotesque snout of the leader. "I would prefer a more direct path. Let us be done with this!"
Casting a bolt of mana directly at the foremost creature, Justice worked with a patient fury as he struck down another pair of wayward dogs. He struck his heel against the ground, shooting up a jagged trail of rock with trembling force that forced the leader to jump and avoid. He tracked it with his eyes, planting a paralysis glyph across the ground where—
It was gone. His breath hitched in his throat as Justice spun on his heels, searching wildly for the foe he could no longer sense. Around him, the wolves hung back. He could see their blackened coats against the trees, their elongated shadows hunting along the darkened forest paths. Justice stopped, feeling hundreds of eyes pining him where he stood. Their cabin sanctuary had become a gladiatorial arena. The lightning that welcomed the rain flashed across the thousands of fangs in the audience.
The alpha launched itself from the trees directly above Justice. His head swirled as he fought to keep Anders' sudden fear out of his way—no! He needed to be in control! Skidding against the rocky ground, Justice pushed himself against the earth with skull-crushing force. He swung the staff as an extension of his arm, but his disciplined attack was deflected. A few righteous fireballs splintered several trees and sent the main group of monsters scattering. The orange glow from the embers somehow magnified their unholy features, making them utterly hideous to behold. But the rain killed the fires before they could ignite and shoots of steam and smoke further obscured his view. He let out a roar, pulling all of the available mana to his core. And he knew it couldn't end well: he knew Anders was nearly out. Without lyrium to boost, it would be through pure luck that they had any spells to cast at all if this went on much longer. When the large alpha struck again, it was all they could do just to keep themselves standing. This one was strong—impossibly strong, and swifter than any wolf demon of Thedas. There was no rage in its heart. There was no mindless, wild fury. Anders screamed of caution in their shared mind, but both he and Justice would see this fight end.
Justice stopped dead, allowing a white flash to streak by him in a blink. He dug his heel into the leaves, wondering if the moss would allow him a steady footing. But he had no time to question: as the white wolf rounded on him and made for his throat, teeth bared, Justice thrust the dragon head into the thick diaphragm of the beast. He felt a storm of saliva wet his face as the thing gave a winded cough in midair, and he threw the weight of his back into the staff and cast the animal to the ground with an angry surge of power. The lower pack members roared in defiance, and Justice let himself glance quickly at the surroundings. Even the ones attacking the wizard and the boy-Remus and Naoya, Anders pushed—had stopped to watch the fight, and all parties were staring at him and his foe.
In his companion's eyes, Justice could see that they were afraid. Afraid of the monsters, afraid of death—but also afraid of him. So rarely did mortals understand what they beheld in front of their own eyes that Justice could forgive them. Justice was unflinching. Justice was righteous. Justice was fury. And as an embodiment of that ideal, the Spirit of Justice himself was similarly endowed with the responsibility of its deliverance. The crackling blue light that illuminated the ground in a pale firelight bounced off the spilt blood, and there was no room in his heart for remorse, no room for anything but the purity of his nature: the purity of justice. It was why he allowed the beast to return to its feet: a downed and defenseless enemy was not a true combatant.
But, justice can be blind. And when the claws swung at him, Justice was not quick enough. The pain he felt—Anders' pain—it was a sensation like nothing else. Sharing a body—it was an experience that could not be described. Justice could recall his first feel of grass, his first walk under the trees, and his first smell of filth. All were moments he felt strangely attached to, for a spirit who was not supposed to live across the Veil. The Fade was a mockery of the human realm, and there was nothing as substantial as the human experience. It was what made Justice question himself over and over again: had his love of this realm, had his desire to merge Anders been proof of his corruption? Was he a demon, or was he still a spirit? Justice was a pure idea—it could not be tempted. And yet, here he was. Savoring the flavor of this pain in the strangest of ways, as horrible as it was and as terrifying it was to feel blood—his blood, their blood—running down his front. Both he and Anders hollered into the sky, feeling knees weaken below him.
Justice was a fool. Surrounded by the bodies of his fallen enemies, it was so easy to forget who he was—he was Anders, just as he was Justice. And their body was weaker than their spirit—than he by himself could ever be. Mortal flesh was flimsy, and it even deteriorated over time. Anders—Anders was at risk. They were both at risk of losing this—of losing the Experience.
Vengeance. Anger. Justice swung his staff, hard. The crack of bone was a satisfying sound, but he did not allow a smile to cross his lips. But he felt his weight shift as he grew weak, and the counterbalance of his stance could not catch the weapon's return. He stumbled, sinking the dragon's snout into the moss as he sought a steady hold. He was angry—he seethed with fury, and his hands were white with rage. He could hardly hear Anders in his mind, screaming at him to relinquish control—to heal himself, for the Maker's sake, before—
WHAM! The ghostly pale alpha had enough, and rounded on its thick-thighed hindlegs to knock back the weakened mage with a single one-handed blow. Anders's body hit the dirt and rolled to a stop at the feet of some of the footsoldiers, and the alpha watching with a satisfied air about it. Immediately, the lesser crowded around the fallen mage, sniffing his limp form with curiosity and nipping at each other in their chaotic order. The leader let out a chirping bark, snapping at a few smaller members of the pack - snorting at them. When they backed away, their high alpha proceeded to examine the still body. Looming over Anders' unconscious form, it prodded him with its snout. It sniffed him, then, as if taken aback by the scent, immediately pulled its head back and snorted in an attempt to dislodge the scent from its nose. It sat on its haunches and used its foreclaws to turn the downed mage on his side, wrapping elongated and clawed fingers around his middle. It picked him up with the ease of someone picking up a small rock.
Naoya watched, and though he was not the one physically attacked – it assaulted his senses. The energy, it was pensive; held back. These things weren't going to kill them - attack, yes; kill, no. Snapping, jibbering, slobbering jaws held just far enough away from Naoya and Remus that they were nothing more than threats. This wasn't a hunt to kill, there were far too many of them for three bodies to alone to feed. Naoya pressed his pouty lips thin together, a bothered and angry frown coming over his sleek features. "What's your game?!" he shouted at the thing. "I know you're smart enough to understand me! You're not killing us. So, what the hell is your deal?!"
It tilted its head, blinking its glowing eyes. "Did you think you could appear here and go unnoticed," it said. Its voice was deep, baritone, and warped. It took Naoya a moment to realize what bothered him about it; the thing spoke, but it had no cadence - its voice sounded as if, naturally, it had no business speaking. "The Lord of this region has sent me to gather you."
Remus stiffened, and he failed to notice how his wand-arm dropped ever so slightly at the voice. It was—monstrous. It sent shivers up his spine, and to look at the face of the leader now cast Remus into a black pit of confusion and disgust. They were like werewolves—not perfectly, no, but the resemblance had not been lost on him. True werewolves looked nothing like them, and yet their actions at the behest of another lord, their vicious nature and their savage, unquestioning attacks—it was more like the clan Remus had spent so long infiltrating. They bore no mark of starvation or desperate servitude, though, and the look behind the poison-yellow irises of the alpha told Remus everything he needed to know.
"Who is your Lord, and why does he attack us?" he demanded, aiming the tip of his wand between heavy white brows. "We have no business with him, and yet you attack us without cause! Release him," he growled, pointing to the limp body of the mage.
He could see blood working down Anders' arm, dripping slowly onto the floor. It wasn't significant, but it was evidence: his heart still beat. He was still alive. Which was more than they could say if this went on much longer, and they were in no position to argue the summons. But this Lord of the region was no man Remus wanted to meet. Trapped inside this inexplicable realm though he was, there was no confusion as far as this man: he sent his people to do his work. He attacked without cause. Whoever the Lord was, he was a dangerous man. The words of the alpha echoed across Remus' thoughts, stirring in him tense questions of his own: how did the Lord know they were here? How did he find them? Was it he who brought them here? Remus clicked his jaw, running his tongue along the backs of his teeth. If they didn't go, they died. If they did go—Merlin, why did it come to this? If they did go, they might never come back. But they might find answers. They might find out why all of this had come to pass.
The thought was of no comfort.
With an awkward, waddling gait - like a gorilla carrying a doll - it moved nearer. With a swift movement it dropped a motionless Anders, sans staff, at their feet. Its limbs began to shrink and slink back, its bones and body creaking and crackling as it contorted down into a more human shape. Before long, a man stood before them. He was very tall, unnaturally so for a human, and lithe and pale, with stark white hair and piercing golden eyes; his facial features were angular but his face was oval in shape, his jaw dappled by light stubble. And he was dressed very well, wearing a black pinstripe vest with a white silk undershirt, and black formal slacks tucked into well-made knee-high black boots.
"I apologize for the trouble, but if you weren't able to fend off a few of my balverines then you wouldn't be much use to Lord Reaver," the man said, his voice now much more human though accented by a strange pronunciation of words, hard on the consonants and fumbling on the vowels. "He is the one whose lands you have come to," the white-haired man replied calmly. "People are rare in these parts." He held his tongue, holding back something as his fine boots shuffled through the wolfebane and clover and stepped on the moss. "Sending my balverines to test you was merely to make sure that you weren't like the last lot of untrustworthy strangers that came through. But you have proven to be unlike them." He then bowed, a respectful if but slightly stiff motion. "I am Alastor Grienwulf, leader of the Balverine Order here and the head agent of Lord Reaver." He straightened. "Lodging, food, and whatever else you are in need of will be provided, should you come to the city with me and attend an audience with Lord Reaver."
"'Lord Reaver' this, and 'Lord Reaver' that!" Naoya spat, placing his hands on his hips. "What happens if we refuse to go with you and meet this Lord Reaver?"
Alastor frowned slightly, but his expression didn't change otherwise. He straightened just as robotically as he had bowed. "I would advise against it. You barely had shelter. You have no food. You have no drink. You, child, smell of tobacco and I will bet that you will run out soon." He looked to Remus and Anders. "And I would not even begin to mention your issues." It was unclear who the last line referenced.
"Why doesn't he come get us himself? Why send a liaison?" Naoya questioned.
"The Lord cannot leave the city," Alastor replied curtly, "It would be unsettling."
Remus, who had been kneeling down to tend to Anders, looked up at the words. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered their options, but even a mountain troll could see that there were next to none. What would they have done even if the balverines hadn't shown up? Foraging for food would have been difficult. Hunting would have taken its toll, and so far they were clearly prey animals in these woods. They couldn't stay in this shack even if they tried, and then where were they to go? If they fought, they died. If they stayed, they died. They were trapped - literally and figuratively. His wand hand shook slightly in his white-knuckled grip and he chewed his tongue, taking a sharp breath through his nose. There was a spot above his right eye, near the temple, that felt like someone was stabbing him with a hot poker.
"Your Lord isn't offering room and board for free, I suspect," he said slowly, taking in the new form of the alpha. Alastor sent a chill down his spine, like the arctic wind seeking exposed flesh to burn. But the man only watched him expectantly.
Remus sighed sharply, glancing over to Naoya with a questioning expression. If the promise of food and medicine were true... But more than that, did this Lord Reaver have answers to their original questions? Could he be the one who brought them here? He waited for a long, tense moment as Naoya fought with his response. But it seemed that he, too, had given up hope.
"It looks like we must acquiesce," Remus said, standing. "We'll go with you, peacefully - but not as captives."
While Naoya agreed, he folded his arms over his chest as if he also thought that it didn't seem right to concede so quickly. "So how far is this city from here, Al?"
"Alastor," the balverine corrected the youth. "It's not far for my kind, but with you walking, as I'm sure you'll want to, it's maybe a half-day's walk from here. Brisk pace."
"So I'm guessing we can't ride you?" The deadpan look Naoya received from Alastor only made the psychic crack a wide smirk. "Doesn't hurt to ask." He ran his hands through his hazel locks. In truth, he didn't wish to ride on the back of one of those quilly, slobbering balverines. In truth, he wished he had the ability to teleport, like some of his own kind had. It would make everything a lot easier.
"So they say," Alastor commented, seemingly stopping himself from rolling his eyes in favor of giving a blithe blink – as if he expected to be rid of the teenager soon. Off to the side, another balverine approached Alastor, familiar staff in jaw, and sat a few feet behind him; as it got closer, it was easy to note the odd, almost-green discoloration in its auburn fur. "I believe this is your companion's." He snapped his fingers and held a hand out expectantly, the poison balverine dropping Anders' staff into Alastor's awaiting hand. Alastor then held it out towards them, but it was Naoya who stepped forwards to take it. "I'd wash it off as soon as you can. His breed tend to be corrosive droolers." Ignoring the disgusted noise the psychic made, Alastor looked to the three of them.
"We'll go with you, Alastor," Remus said, putting a hand up as Naoya seemed to open his mouth to object, "but I'm afraid we won't last the night outside in this storm." Thunder rolled overhead as the final word left his lips, seeming to confirm that the weather would not break until at least dawn. The only noise for the span following was the pitter patter of the downpour, and the wind howling through the broken windows like haunted screams of the dying.
Alastor's golden eyes flickered to the sky, seemingly not minding the way the rain dampened his clothing and hair, then turned back to the three before him. His gaze was distant and icy, unblinking as thunder sounded again. "Of course," he agreed. "I was not going to force you to walk all that way in the rain."
"But you were going to attack us in the rain all the same," Naoya quietly muttered. He brushed some stringy hazel hair behind his left ear, folding his arms with a defiant pout.
Alastor eyed the boy, briefly annoyed with what his sharp ears overheard. "That being said, it is an inconvenience. I was sent with provisions-" he snapped his fingers, summoning another reddish balverine with a wrapped box in its mouth "- to show good will, should you prove you were not like those who came before you." The balverine dropped the box at its high alpha's feet, and Alastor took a step back to show that he would not take it.
Seeing that it would make no sense for one of them to physically try to touch the box, should it be a trap, Naoya held out his hand and used his telekinesis to pull it closer to them. When it was close enough he reached out and tapped the box with his hand; it was a wooden thing the size of a picnic basket, wrapped in a fine ornate sheet of some kind, and covered in slobber. Naoya stuck out his tongue and wiped his hand on his pants. "Anything you guys don't drool on?"
"There will be a few of my friends in the area, to keep things like the bioraptors off your trail." Alastor blew right past the psychic's comment, ignoring it completely. A single wave of his hand was enough for the balverines that had hunkered around them to flood the opposite way they'd come. "We will take our leave from this place, and return in the morning to fetch you." Alastor himself jumped with the same grace as his large, more monstrous form. And like that, with a quick leap, he was gone out into the night and the storm.
After a moment, when Naoya couldn't feel the balverines so close, his form laxed. He frowned, turning to Remus and the unconscious Anders. He couldn't sense anything from the downed mage while he was unconscious, but Naoya saw that he was still breathing. "We should get him inside," Naoya said to Remus, his voice soft and trailing.