CHAPTER 6
..x..
Author's note:
Hi guys. I just wanted to say I hope everyone out there is safe during these difficult times. I hope the story serves as a welcomed distraction from the crazy and know that I really appreciate your company through this mess. Stay home if you can, wash your hands and be careful if you need to leave the house. Hang in there and take care! xoxo!
After a few hours of traveling through the ruins, the group finally arrived at another wide room. But instead of more darkness, they were greeted by breathtaking beauty. Warm sunlight filtered through a wide crack on the roof, bathing the lush greens of the vegetation climbing up the walls. Shimmering water trickled down the stone from a stream above, pooling around a platform surrounded by colorful flowering plants. Butterflies fluttered happily from blossom to blossom, adding to the magical appearance of what seemed to be a small piece of paradise in an otherwise dangerous place.
A white wolf sat at the center, its blue eyes watching Everil's every move as she and the others carefully crossed the room towards it. It spoke in a female voice, the words echoing in their minds. "Welcome to my realm, mortals."
"Are you Witherfang?" Everil asked tentatively as they came to stand before it.
"I am..." It narrowed its eyes. "And I hear you are here to kill me."
A series of low growls made them look towards a shaded area from which glowing eyes stared. Her party reached for their weapons as Bjorn snarled back at them, standing protectively by his mistress. Everil raised her hand to halt them, her attention never leaving the wolf's menacing glare. "No… I only wish to talk."
"You have murdered many of my children. Why should I believe anything you say?"
"We were forced to defend ourselves because they attacked us first," Everil countered calmly. "Now please, I want to avoid further bloodshed. If there is more to Zathrian's story, I wish to hear it."
A pause followed, stretching for a few lagging seconds. Then the wolf rose and slowly, cautiously, began to approach her, moving gracefully as it made its way to her. The wolf's body began to glow, bright and warm, as it morphed and took the shape of a woman. And she was gorgeous. Jet-black hair flowed down to cover her exposed breasts, framing an almond-shaped face as her ashen skin shone under the light. Full lips were pursed as black eyes, as dark and unnerving as an empty void were set upon her.
"My lady, no!" one of the werewolves roared, rushing towards the center, but halted when the woman looked his way.
"Swiftrunner..." she warned him as a mother would her child.
He snarled at the Warden, but followed her command as she stepped closer to her. Everil remained still as Witherfang reached up to cup her cheeks and stared into her sky blue pools, searching for something deep within. Her companions shifted uncomfortably behind her but kept their hands off of their weapons.
"You speak the truth," she stated, a small smile spreading over her mystical features. She lowered her hands and took a step back, gesturing for the werewolves to stand down. "You must forgive my children. They have suffered much and are slow to trust."
"Understandable… given the circumstances." Everil's brow creased quizzically. "What happened between you and the Dalish?"
"It is… a tragic story." Witherfang shook her head sadly, taking a deep breath. "Hundreds of years ago... in this very forest... a group of human settlers tortured and killed Zathrian's son, then raped his young daughter. The girl survived, but eventually found she was with child. She took her own life… having found herself unable to live with the shame."
"That's… horrible," Everil said quietly.
"Yes…" the woman agreed, gazing to the ground. "And it would be a sin they would ultimately come to regret many times over… For Zathrian, overwhelmed by grief and hatred, sought the help of a spirit from the Fade and used its powers to punish their entire settlement. Cursing them to wander the woods as beasts."
Everil looked around the room to the werewolves slowly emerging from the shadows, seeing them hold their heads low as they regarded the Lady with reverence. "You're that spirit Zathrian summoned… aren't you?"
"I am… though my children call me the Lady of the Forest," she answered softly, clasping her hands together. "I have... tried to keep more innocents from falling prey to my power. But as you have seen, this curse spreads as a disease would. Any innocent traveler entering the woods will be affected if attacked by those afflicted by it."
"The curse is constant torture," Swiftrunner spoke, his voice a raspy growl. "The pain is unbearable… It burns through you, driving you mad. The only way to appease it is to release that pain upon others, further spreading the disease. If it weren't for our Lady we would be nothing but savage animals, seeking to kill anything in our path."
"I see…" Everil folded her arms. "If Zathrian knows about this, then why has he not stopped it? Why has he allowed it to fall upon his own people?"
"He has to die for the curse to be lifted. That's why," Swiftrunned bit out, flexing his claws.
The Warden's head spun to her. "Is this true?"
"Yes. The curse is tied to his life-force. As long as it exists, so will he. But I do not believe that his unwillingness to let go of his own existence is the only reason he has done nothing to stop it. His hatred for those who wronged him runs deep, and he has lived with it for centuries. I imagine it has become part of who he is now."
"Is this why you have been attacking his people? To force him into lifting it?"
"In part..." Lady replied with a subtle scowl. "We have tried to approach Zathrian every time the Dalish returned to the forest… To reason with him and beg him to lift the curse. But each time, we were ignored." Her gaze darkened with contempt. "We shall no longer be denied."
Everil's lips pressed into a line, anger quickly rising at the Keeper's selfishness and lies. She couldn't let this stand. Not when there were so many being hurt and killed by one man's insatiable desire for vengeance. "What do you need us to do? There has to be something that can stop all this."
The Lady's eyes widened a fraction at her selfless response, then a small smile spread over her lips. "Perhaps… If you bring him to me, I can convince him to finally cast us free."
"There is no need for you to seek me out, Warden."
They all turned towards the source of the voice as Zathrian stepped into the chamber, a wicked smirk over his aging face. "Mithra told me of your intentions to talk to the creatures. I knew then that you would learn the truth behind the curse and that nothing I said would convince you to follow through with the initial plan… So I planned to take matters into my own hands and take the wolf's heart myself.."
"How did you find us!" Swiftrunner roared at him.
"The spirit and I share a connection. Of course I could find my way to her. I couldn't come near her with you standing guard, however." He let out a weak chuckle. "So as luck may have it, the Grey Wardens served as a good distraction to allow me into your lair."
Alistair glared angrily at him. "Bastard… You were using us all along."
"What do you want, Zathrian?" Everil demanded, hands closed into a fist as she glowered at the mage. "Do you intend to kill Witherfang and let this horrible disease continue?"
His gaze fell to his feet. "I..."
"Zathrian..." The Lady took a careful step towards him, pleading to him. "Please, they don't deserve this fate. Those who wronged you are long dead, and now others are suffering. You have lived a long life. Let them live theirs."
"No!" Zathrian's cry resonated through the wide chamber. "Did the humans have mercy on my children? I merely made their bodies become reflections of their beastly souls! I won't let this end... Their descendants will pay just as well for what they did!"
"Fool..." Morrigan said in disgust.
"You must reconsider…" Wynne added with a disapproving look. "Such a long-lived desire for revenge is not good for anyone. Find it in your heart to forgive them and move on from this realm."
"Never!" Magic surged from him as he summoned more spirits of the forest. Beings of light flowed from his staff, crossing over to their realm and laying claim to the trees growing beside him. Their wood creaked as they came to life, roaring as if awakening from an ancient slumber. They separated themselves from the stone that bound them, sending rubble crumbling around them and smashing onto the ground.
Drawing her sword, Everil stepped in front of the Lady, eyes over their new opponent. "You and your people stay back. We will handle this."
Unsure and without options, the spirit nodded and quickly transformed back into a wolf. A bright light shone from her, wrapping her and those around her in a protective barrier. "Be careful, Warden. Zathrian's magic is not gentle," she warned mournfully.
"Well… neither is ours," she replied, looking towards Morrigan and Wynne as the two prepared themselves to fight.
"You will pay dearly for getting in my way, Grey Warden," Zathrian's booming voice made the ground shake as his power grew, as ancient as himself.
"We shall see about that!" she bit back as Bjorn and Alistair stood beside her.
With a roar and a wave of his staff, the mage commanded the trees to attack. The beings followed his orders, their steps sluggish and heavy as they stomped the floor. Long branches swung towards them, fast and powerful, cutting through the air.
Moving on swift feet, Everil dodged one of them, letting it crack the ground beside her. She slashed at it, cutting off several branches that had turned into makeshift fingers. The tree let out a muffled groan, withdrawing its arm as the limbs magically sprouted back. Roots shot out from its feet, breaking through rock and stone and slithering over it as they sought to trap her and her party. The others ran out of the way, barely avoiding being grabbed.
Morrigan and Wynne cast a wave of flames, setting the fast-moving roots ablaze. They easily burned to ashes, then Wynne brought forth another spell, igniting one of the creature's legs. It groaned in pain as it angrily beat the ground like a drum, sending debris shooting out and nearly squashing Bjorn under its branches. With a scowl, the witch followed suit, unleashing another storm of fire upon the second sentient tree. A deep howl resonated from it as it stomped, trying to flatten Alistair, who swung his blade at its leg.
A shimmering light erupted from Zathrian, spreading outwards towards his trees and engulfing them with its magic. The flames were extinguished and limbs grew back in seconds, returning them to their full force once more.
"Damn it!" Alistair rolled out of the way of another branch and retreated several steps, joined by the hound and his mistress.
"We can't kill them with him healing them like that," Everil said as she quickly observed their battlefield. The trees were protecting him, using their roots and long limbs to fight them instead. They had to stop him, but getting through to him would be difficult. An idea occurred to her. "Morrigan and Wynne!" she called to them, drawing their attention. "On my signal, I want you both to cast another wave of flames upon those trees. Make them angry!"
The two responded with confident nods, then Everil turned to Alistair and her hound. "I need to get to Zathrian!"
"I'll take the one to the right and Bjorn can take the other!" Alistair declared firmly. "We'll keep their branches off of you while you go for the mage!"
"All right!" Everil prepared her weapons. "Wynne, Morrigan, now!"
The mages summoned their power, hitting the trees head-on and splintering their bodies through sheer force. Alistair and Bjorn charged, with Everil following closely from behind. The trees attempted to protect their master, growling loudly as the spells hit their bodies. They blindly brought down long limbs, trying to sweep at them, but missing entirely.
Alistair raised his sword and slashed upwards, cutting off their fingers before slicing off another branch. Bjorn latched on to the other's arm, biting off chunks as Everil ran between them, dodging the tree roots breaking up from the ground and trying to trap her. She closed in on Zathrian with a battle cry, catching the mage off guard. He blocked with his staff, nearly getting knocked off his feet when their weapons met.
"This is not your battle, Warden! Leave now!" Zathrian grunted, parrying her off to shoot a ball of electricity at her. She leaned sideways and avoided it, then struck again, her dagger cutting into his staff.
"No!" she defied him as her sword connected once more. "You let this happen to your people—over a centuries-old grudge! Their suffering and their pain is your doing! They don't deserve this, and so I am making it my fight to end this curse!" Her angry retort echoed through the chamber as she attacked him again and again, forcing the elf back with each hit he scrambled to block.
As if forced awake by her valiant words, Zathrian stumbled and gasped, horror dawning on his aging face as if he'd seen the truth for the first time. And she took the opportunity, kicking his midsection and knocking him onto his back on a pile of rocks and weeds. Then she grabbed him by the front of his robes, pressed Elethea to his neck, and hissed, "Dispel the trees... Now!"
He gulped and silently stared up at her, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow. A breath left him and the trees stopped moving, freezing in place. The mage's hatred and rage melted into nothingness, revealing just how exhausted he truly was. How a man consumed by grief and the need for revenge truly looked—with bags under his eyes and a lifeless stare.
"Please…" the elf whimpered through heavy breaths. "I... I can't take this anymore."
"Then undo the curse!" Everil commanded sharply, her chilled stare penetrating his. "If not for yourself, then for those who follow you. Those you claim to care about!"
"Yes…" Zathrian let out a long, drawn-out breath, guilt and grief twisting his face as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "I... I have endured for so long… And in so doing, I have hurt so many. You are right… Enough is enough..."
Slowly, she lowered her weapon and rose to her feet, allowing him to stand. Whitherfang returned to her humanoid form, an expectant look in her eyes. "Does that mean… Does that mean that you will put a stop to this at last?"
Tired and defeated, the old mage nodded weakly, his shoulders slouching as if the weight of it all were too great. "I... I am ready… spirit." He then turned to Everil with remorse. "Forgive me for putting you through all this, Warden. Talk to my successor when this is over... She will lend you the aid you seek against the Blight. Thank you for risking so much for my people."
Everil simply gave him a silent nod.
The Lady extended her hand, taking his wrinkled fingers before guiding him to the center of the chamber. They stood before each other, hands linked with one another's.
"My lady...!" Swiftrunner took a step towards her, a pained expression over his canine features.
"Do not mourn me…" she said softly to her children. "Simply remember me... and take care of each other. Find peace." She smiled as her body began to glow. "Goodbye... everyone." With one final gasp, Zathrian collapsed and the once beautiful spirit of the forest slowly vanished into the air like a whisper.
The Grey Wardens and their party watched in amazement as the werewolves were freed from their curse, their bodies morphing into something else. Fur faded from their skin, and fangs and snouts shrank as claws retracted into fingers. Their size shrank and soon men and women were now where monsters once stood.
They cried with joy, some reaching for their lovers and cupping their faces upon finally being able to see their real forms. Some had pointed ears, others human features. In the end, people from different origins now shared the happiness of rebirth together.
Smiling widely, Everil turned to her companions and tilted her head to the open door leading to the outside. There was nothing left for them to do here. All that remained was to report back to the Dalish camp and deliver the bittersweet news.
.x.x.x.x.
"Here you go. Just like new!" The elven woman handed her the repaired gambeson, a proud grin on her face.
Everil took it gratefully, eyeing her Grey Warden armor with a pleased grin. The tear was repaired and all traces of blood washed off, bringing the fabric back to its original blue. She handed the smithy a few silvers and said her thanks.
The sun had already set by the time they were done speaking with the new Keeper. So they'd decided it would be best to spend the night with the elves and restock on supplies before heading back out again. And their hosts were more than eager to welcome their saviors with open arms after having earned their trust.
"Oh!"
A gasp drew her gaze to Leliana, who stood by the Aravel next to the one from which she'd retrieved her armor. She was currently staring in wonder at a necklace made out of weaved thread and polished river stones. While the elf who made it watched her curiously from behind the counter.
Everil approached the nun. "I think that would look good on you."
"Thank you." She turned to her, taking the necklace and placing it against the Warden's chest. "But I was actually thinking it would look good with that dress you're wearing."
She smiled helplessly as Leliana matched the item to her clothes. She had been forced to change into a simple, white wool dress while her armor was being repaired—an outfit also handpicked by Leliana herself. It wasn't as fine and conservative as the clothes she wore in Highever. It was a peasant's dress, with a wide cut that revealed much of her chest and shoulders.
"Here just wear it." Leliana slid the necklace over her head.
Everil glanced at it. "You know I have to change back into my armor, right?"
"But you look so beautiful like this..." She chuckled and put on a mischievous grin. "Imagine Alistair's face when he sees you."
"Uhm…" The light of the torch next to her easily revealed her blush. "Do you really think he would like it?"
"Of course he would…" She smirked teasingly. "He may even pounce on you like one of those wolves."
A soft, bashful laugh escaped her. "Oh, don't be silly..."
They paid for the necklace and made their way up the hill, heading for a large bonfire now burning at the center of the Dalish camp. The distant sound of elven music drifted to them, accompanied by laughter and cheers. Gone was the previous depressing atmosphere, replaced by merriment as the elves celebrated the end of their torment.
"That outfit suits you too. You have good taste," Everil complemented the redhead, admiring the soft lilac of her dress.
"Well, thank you. I lived around some fashionable ladies back in Orlais. I'm glad I could use a bit of that on you tonight." Leliana winked, then giggled, clasping both hands behind her back as they walked. "You know, I thought about going shopping with you before, but I never imagined it would happen in a Dalish camp. I suppose they have to trade with humans from time to time."
"I don't know if this would be considered shopping… but it was fun, nonetheless."
"We can always try going to Denerim someday… Once this is all over," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. "It's a shame I could not convince Morrigan to come with us... She seems so obsessed with that book she carries around with her."
"Yes…" Everil released a soft breath. "I hope she finds whatever she's looking for in it."
"Are you sure? That grimoire belongs to the dreaded Witch of the Wilds... It doesn't scare you to know that Morrigan might just find some dangerous, powerful magic hidden within those pages?"
The thought did give Everil pause, but she tried her best to brush it aside, choosing instead to trust the witch. "So long as it's used against the darkspawn and not us, I think I can sleep well enough at night."
"I suppose you have a point there…" Leliana bit her lip. She didn't dislike mages like the rest of the Chantry sisters did, but that didn't mean she trusted all of them. Morrigan was an unknown, she presumed even to the Wardens. But if she'd somehow earned Everil's trust, then perhaps she deserved the benefit of the doubt.
After their brief walk, they approached Everil's tent, where she put away her armor. It had been a while since she last wore anything other than the Grey Warden uniform, so she might as well enjoy the moment. Leliana gave her a satisfied smile upon seeing she had opted to keep her current attire, and they continued on towards the party.
Everyone was gathered there, including their companions. Musicians played flutes and a lute in a cheerful, yet archaic melody that melded with their natural surroundings. Some elves danced, while others merely sat by the fire, eating fruits and drinking wine as they chatted and made their toasts.
Zevran drank and laughed in a corner, sitting cross-legged on the ground while flirting with two girls. Sten and Bjorn sat next to each other, staring into the flames as the qunari absently petted the dog. Morrigan was resting against a tree, reading her book away from the crowd but just close enough to the light of the fire. Wynne spoke cheerfully with the elder elves of the camp, standing in a group as they adorned her snowy white hair with flowers.
Everil looked around the area for the last party member, spotting him some distance away. He sat on a fallen tree trunk with elbows on his knees, watching the flickering flames in silent contemplation. And for the first time in years, she felt hesitant to approach a man. Afraid of what he would say upon seeing her.
Someone gently pushed her forward.
"Go," Leliana encouraged with a grin.
"Uhm… right." Everil's voice sounded unsure, causing her to inwardly berate herself over her foolishness. She sauntered towards him while the nun watched with a gentle smile.
Alistair didn't seem to notice her at first, too engrossed by whatever was in his mind. She carefully stepped closer. "A coin for your thoughts?"
Her voice brought him back to reality and he blinked upon seeing the white dress instead of the blue and silver he'd expected. Curious amber eyes traveled upwards over her, taking in hills and valleys no longer hidden behind the thick gambeson of her armor. This new fabric hugged every curve, accentuating wide hips and perfectly rounded breasts, while at the same time robbing him of breath.
Everil watched him almost expectantly, seeing him swallow hard before sitting up.
"Maker…" he croaked and then cleared his throat, red tinting his cheeks. "Uhm… You… You look beautiful..."
"Thank you…" she breathed out, gripping her skirts in slight nervousness. She then carefully took a seat next to him, their arms touching. They remained very still for a moment, with Alistair still stealing glances at her as the silence stretched for what felt like hours. She nibbled on her bottom lip, then gave him a concerned look. "Are you all right?"
His stare had wandered to her chest, the wide off-shoulder cut of the dress allowing him to see some of her cleavage.
"Alistair?"
"Huh…?"
She chuckled softly. "I asked you if you were all right as you keep spacing out, but you're obviously feeling well enough to shamelessly gawk at my breasts."
"Oh…!" He slammed his mouth shut and tore his eyes away. "Uh, s-sorry... I'm fine. I was… just thinking."
"I saw that… What were you thinking about?"
He released a drawn-out breath and shook his head, clasping his hands together. "About all the people dying out there. Villages… towns are being raided and burned by the darkspawn… While we were here, wasting valuable time running around in some elven ruins."
A look of understanding fell over her, knowing full well what he was feeling. And her eyes went to the elves dancing happily in a circle a short distance from them. "I don't think it was a waste of time… We ended up helping these people and gained another ally against the Blight in the process. We did what we had to do."
"I know… But if he'd just been honest with us from the beginning…"
"Yes… I agree. But we can only save those we can with what we know," Everil murmured, watching the twisting flames as the Dalish continued to frolic around it. "All we can do now is hope that the people of Ferelden will endure long enough for us to do what must be done. We have to keep fighting so that those who don't make it won't die in vain."
"Yes… You're right, of course." But Alistair still didn't feel much better. His eyes then went up to her again, the light this time allowing him to see the scar that now marred her chest. "How's your arm…? That looks like it was more serious than you said it was."
Everil glanced at the mark. "I hadn't noticed it actually… too dark in the smithy's shop and my tent." She put on a smile, trying to play off her discomfort. "It's fine... Just another scar to add to my growing collection, I suppose."
"Well, in my humble opinion…" He leaned in, whispering in her ear, "You're ravishing with or without those beautiful scars…"
A shiver ran up her spine, his warm breath leaving a tingling sensation on her skin. "Thank you, Alistair…"
He tenderly kissed her cheek, causing a skip in her heart. "Just try not to collect too many of them, all right? That sort of hobby is not exactly good for your health."
She chortled. "Yes… right."
"So…" Ever so gently, he took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "We have the elves onboard. What's next?"
The music turned merrier the moment the words left him, while howls and cheers erupted around them. Several couples made their way to the bonfire, locking arms and skipping in circles as they laughed. Others clapped to the beat, grinning and smiling as they watched the show of spins, twirls, and hops.
A grin spread over Everil's lips, the joy of the Dalish clan almost contagious. She rose from her seat and gazed down at him. "How about we think about that later and just dance instead?"
"W-Wait…" He gulped at her request, his expression promptly resembling that of a frightened deer. "I don't think that's a good idea..."
"Why? Don't you think we've earned a little fun after all we've been through?"
"Trust me... There is nothing fun about my dancing... It's actually quite tragic."
"Oh, I'm sure you're not as bad as you think." She bent over and reached for his other hand, accidentally presenting him with a closeup view of her enticing bosom. Needless to say, he was numb enough to oblige after that.
She dragged him out to the fire as the elves made way for the two to join in their dance. They stopped and Alistair awkwardly let her link her arm with his before she held up her skirt and skipped in the same fashion as those around them. Her partner anxiously tried to keep up the pace. And to his surprise, the energy of the jovial melody eventually took over.
"Hey, this actually feels pretty good!" he admitted, switching arms with her as they hopped in the opposite direction.
"Of course it does!" Everil laughed.
Seeing her so happy and carefree only made him smile wider. Even while jumping from foot to foot, he couldn't help but admire how beautiful she looked. With her hair bouncing on her shoulders and her eyes bright as jewels.
Neither of them was the best dancer in the large group, but their laughter was enough to make the Dalish form a circle around them and clap while they cheered them on. For the first time, the Grey Wardens were genuinely having fun, casting aside the weight of their journey for just a moment while enjoying the company of total strangers. The same strangers who vowed to give up their lives to fight beside them against the darkspawn and their tainted god.
Meanwhile, behind the merry crowd and still sitting by herself, Morrigan was gripping Flemeth's grimoire with shaking hands. Her horrified eyes were glued to the pages and all color had drained from her face.
Mother...