CHAPTER 8
..x..
Morning came quickly for the Grey Wardens and their companions. And it was after Everil finished packing her gear that she called on her fellow Warden to discuss her new plan. They met past the cover of the brush and away from the others, seeking the privacy of a small patch of trees.
"Slay Flemeth? Is that even possible?" Alistair asked in open disbelief.
"Morrigan once told me it was. She said Flemeth's weakness was her heart," she answered, folding her arms.
"If you can even get to it. She's the Witch of the Wilds..." He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "Is there no other way to settle this? Maybe just talk to her instead?"
Everil chuckled, leaning against the tree behind her. "What do you think she'll say? 'All right, lads. Since you asked so nicely, I shall let that daughter go and simply make another. Say, would you mind terribly if I borrowed your fellow Warden for the night?'"
"Ugh..." Alistair grimaced. "Was that last part really necessary? As if I don't have enough nightmares as it is."
"The point is that we don't have much of a choice here. We can't just leave Morrigan alone in this."
"And why not?"
That earned him a disapproving look. "Alistair—"
"I know, I know… She's one of us... As much as it pains me to admit it." He sighed. "At any rate, if we're doing this, then we'll have to prepare well. And I mean, very well. Especially if we want to come out alive and return to our original impossible task."
"I think we'll be fine," she assured him with a smile. "We've become quite good at conquering impossible tasks."
"Or it's just been luck…" He half-smiled, also crossing his arms. "Which, by the way, may run out if we keep testing it. And as the only Grey Wardens left, if we get turned into frogs and boiled alive in Flemeth's pot, what's left of Ferelden will surely follow. We're indispensable, you and I. Isn't that a nice little piece of irony?"
She frowned worriedly. "Come to think of it… Perhaps you should stay behind in Redcliffe as well, just in case."
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen…" He stepped up to her and rested a forearm against her tree, all the while gazing into her eyes. "We're in this together, remember?"
She chuckled a little. "So you're willing to come with me, risk your life, and possibly die fighting an abomination that may very well devour us all?"
"Heh… Are you kidding?" he spoke quietly, leaning ever closer while gently stroking her jawline with his thumb. "I couldn't just let you have all the fun, you know..." And his lips claimed hers. Everil sighed softly, passionately reciprocating the kiss as her arms slithered over his shoulders. Time seemed to drag around them, ticking in a steady rhythm as they poured their growing need into each other. A need that was becoming more and more difficult to ignore.
"Perhaps a room in the next town would be beneficial for the both of you."
Alistair broke away from her and groaned, shooting Zevran an annoyed glare. He was standing a short distance from them, with a grin on his face and hands at his hips. A blushing Everil licked her lips, sternly regarding their assassin despite her embarrassment. "What is it, Zevran?"
"I only came to let you know that we are up and ready to move. As soon as you two are done drooling over each other, that is..."
"Thank you…" Everil muttered and gently pushed past her fellow Warden to head back to camp.
"Of course, my lady." He gave her an exaggerated bow and his eyes followed her, openly admiring the swell of her rear until she disappeared behind the brush.
"Couldn't you at least try to be less obvious?" Alistair questioned, arms crossed over his chest. "At least in front of me…"
Zevran shrugged and snickered playfully. "Well, I cannot touch her… but I can still take every opportunity to look. She's got a rather tempting sway to her hips, that one."
"You're disgusting…"
"As if you don't do the same thing..." he countered and his smile broadened into a wolfish grin. "I bet you just can't wait to get her into your bed. You are wasting precious time, my friend. Nobody wants to die a virgin."
"How did you...?" Alistair blurted out, heat rushing to his ears.
The elf laughed at his reaction. "I admit it took me a while to notice, but the way you awkwardly fidget and stare when she's around makes it very easy to see."
"Y-You…" He stalked past him, grumbling under his breath, "I hate you…"
"Oh, come now. I thought we were getting along." Zevran chuckled and trekked after him, utterly amused. The Warden was so easily flustered, he just couldn't help himself. And with death looming over them, he may as well have his fun along the way.
.x.x.x.x.
They set off again, traveling further southwest through the deserted roads on their way to Redcliffe. The hours went by as they trailed up and down the hills, with Everil noticing how much colder the air felt with every fleeting breeze. She looked south, observing the ominous dark clouds that crawled over the horizon. Red lightning flashed amongst them as distant thunder roared across the vast wilderness. She could feel the horde was still miles away, the taint pulling on her blood like one would tug on a string. Meanwhile, those familiar voices whispered in her head, scraping at her skull like blades over stone—a strange sensation she couldn't get accustomed to. And perhaps never would, regardless of how many years she had left to live.
It was even stranger to know that she was slowly dying as the darkspawn's corruption consumed her body. Her destiny had once been to be married off to some lord just to bear his children and carry on his name, only to die in a bed of old age. Never did it cross her mind that she would end up a Grey Warden. Sacrificing everything to secure humanity's survival in a thankless quest against evil.
"Is that the Blight?"
Everil snapped out of her reverie and glanced towards Zevran, who was also staring at the churning darkness. "Yes… Scary isn't it?"
"It's so close… How long will it take for it to reach Redcliffe?" Wynne asked with unease from behind Leliana.
"I don't know for sure, but they're far enough for now…" Alistair replied, uncertainty in his tone. "It might take them several weeks or maybe months to get there. At least that's my hope."
They eventually reached a forested area, just as the sun began to set. Red and amber light filtered through the high branches overhead, shrouding the road in a kaleidoscope of moving patterns. All the chirping from the birds and the rustling of the greenery seemed to cease the further they went into those woods, bringing about a dark, eerie atmosphere. A chilling wind flowed through them, lifting their cloaks. And then both Grey Wardens brought their steeds to a stop.
"Do you feel that…?" Alistair whispered a short distance from Everil.
"Damn it…" she hissed and her head snapped to the trees. "They're here!"
Darkspawn burst out from the brush, rushing at them from all sides and for the first time taking them by surprise. A hurlock ran at Everil's horse, attempting to hack at it as the animal neighed in fright. Her foot connected with the monster's face, pushing it off her before swiftly dismounting along with her hound. She drew her weapons as another tried to attack her and blocked the hit. Metal screeched against metal as she parried the nightmarish blade away, then she spun, slashing across its chest.
Her companions promptly followed suit, defending their horses while taking on the incoming enemies. Everil cut down a genlock and glanced about, seeing the mounts struggling to keep the darkspawn away. She clicked her tongue and ran to her steed's rump before slapping it and startling it into motion. It ran away, galloping without pause as Everil turned to the others. "Send your horses away! Hurry!"
The party did as they were told, forcing their mounts into a frantic sprint and out of the battlefield. Alistair turned around and blocked a hurlock's blade with his shield. Then he thrust, hitting it in the face and staggering it before running it through. Nearby, Wynne summoned an ice spell, freezing every creature in its path while Sten and Bjorn destroyed each one.
"Ugly things!" Zevran shouted while dodging an axe. He shifted on his feet, swinging both daggers to slash at three genlocks. Meanwhile, Leliana fired an arrow at a hurlock edging towards him, piercing its head like a melon.
Morrigan was standing at a distance, summoning a fire spell that enveloped a few of the darkspawn as they appeared from the woods. They screeched loudly as they burned, leaving nothing but scattering ashes behind. Then as she spun to ignite another wave, a feminine figure caught her attention. Shock fell over her and she froze, seeing her approach with casual, confident strides, amber eyes locked with her own.
"Mother…"
A great wave of blistering fire torched through it all, instantly incinerating the remaining darkspawn while somehow missing their party. Everil watched their enemies disintegrate in stunned silence, standing in awe at the spell's immense power. Then slowly, hesitantly, she shifted her attention to the new arrival.
"Well, well… What have we here?" Flemeth uttered darkly, her cold stare fixed upon them. "Morrigan and her little helpers, now scheming to end this old wretch's life."
The horrified Morrigan retreated a step. "H-How did you…?"
A wicked smirk spread over the Witch of the Wilds' wizened features. She stopped a short distance from them, setting her sights on her offspring. "I have not lived this long without the ability to know what goes on outside of the Wilds, girl. I watch everything. See everything. You should know this."
Leliana edged towards Alistair. "What's happening?"
"That's Flemeth, Morrigan's mother…" he replied, visibly nervous himself. "That should tell you enough..."
"Flemeth…? The Flemeth?"
He nodded once.
"Maker…" Wynne gasped, while Sten and Zevran tensed up.
Everil walked up to Morrigan, using her body to keep her from the witch's gaze. She raised her chin in defiance, hiding all fear behind a facade of confidence. "Why have you come here, Flemeth?"
Surprised, Morrigan stared at the back of the Warden's head. That she was trying to shield her was commendable, but that alone would not stop her mother from getting to her. And the way she held that sword of hers, with a tight, quivering grip, told her that she knew this too.
"Does a mother need a reason to visit her child?" Flemeth said with mock tenderness.
"Answer the question!" Everil sharply demanded.
"Oh? You have grown quite a bit since last I saw you, lass… 'Tis quite impressive, but irrelevant nonetheless." Flemeth's smile slowly vanished into a frigid expression. "I came to offer a bargain, Grey Wardens... Do not fight me and I shall swear to leave Morrigan be until the Blight has been defeated. Fight me and you all die. Simple, is it not?"
"To you, perhaps…" Morrigan quietly retorted.
The old witch glanced briefly at her daughter and returned to the Warden. "If you die, the Blight will likely engulf all of Ferelden, which would be an inconvenience to me. So I would prefer you choose wisely. After all, this is between Morrigan and myself. It does not concern any of you."
Morrigan nervously scowled at the back of Everil's head, waiting anxiously for her decision. It didn't take long.
"I beg to differ…" Everil aimed her sword at her. "She's my friend, which makes this my problem too. I won't allow you to threaten her."
A shocked look befell Flemeth at her words, prompting a brief moment of stunned silence. And she laughed. Loud and hard, throwing her head back as her shoulders shook. "Friend? Oh, how blind you are… Morrigan is using you, girl! She only sees you as a tool she can manipulate to get her way. I know this because I have taught her so."
"You placed her in my hands so that I may use her against the Blight, and I've done so from the start. If she needs me now, then I consider that a fair trade," Everil countered. "Nothing you say will change my mind. I won't let you have her."
Morrigan listened to the exchange in a quiet stupor. This woman was risking it all to help her, something no one had ever done before. And to her surprise, everyone else in their group seemed to think the same way. They approached the two women, preparing their weapons to face the fearsome being before them. Without question.
"Then you have made your choice," Flemeth said with fake regret as flames engulfed her body. "Such a shame..."
All backed away as they witnessed her transformation. The witch began to shift and change at an unnatural speed, joints popping and sagging skin stretching. Her body grew in size, morphing into something that was not human. Her face elongated into a hideous snarl, lined with razor-sharp teeth.
"No… that form..." Morrigan breathed fearfully while her mind screamed at her to run.
Maker… Everil was rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the creature.
Horns broke up from Flemeth's head as crimson scales spread over her skin. And the swirling flames raged like a tornado as a pair of giant wings erupted from her back. In moments her muscles bulged until something massive replaced the once frail old hag. Smoke flowed in plumes from its nostrils as it cast its yellow glare upon them and a low growl rumbled from deep within its throat.
"A dragon…" Alistair gulped, blurred memories from Ostagar rushing back. "It's the same dragon from the tower…"
It took a step that shook the ground beneath their feet, its massive body towering over them. Razor-sharp claws stabbed through the dirt and rock as it snarled viciously, promising a swift and painful death. Growling once more, it drew in a deep breath and its neck glowed like a torch.
Everil instantly knew what that meant. "Fire!"
She grabbed Morrigan by the arm and they all ran in different directions, barely avoiding the flaming breath that instantly scorched everything in its path. Everil whispered a curse and whirled around, giving the dragon another look. It was armored by its scales, so penetrating its defenses would be difficult. Its underbelly, however, seemed to be slick and more vulnerable.
"Bjorn, Sten, Zevran, and Alistair. You all focus on its legs and belly!" she called out from the other side of the battleground. "Watch for the claws!"
"Got it!" Alistair shouted back, accompanied by a bark from her hound.
Everil then turned to the other mage, seeing her standing near the edge of the woods. "Wynne! I want you out of this until I tell you otherwise!"
"Understood!"
"Leliana, stand back and use your arrows! Aim for the chest!"
"Yes!"
The Warden then sternly regarded Morrigan, placing a hand on her shoulder as the woman nervously stared back. "I want you to keep moving to Redcliffe on your own. The horses shouldn't be too far down the road."
"What?" She knitted her eyebrows. "Are you asking me to leave you behind?"
"I am. Now, do as I say and get out of here," Everil commanded, facing the dragon.
She hesitated. "But—"
"Go!"
Morrigan took a tentative step back, nodding shakily before running into the woods behind her. Seeing her go, Everil returned her attention to the beast while the others ran in to engage it. She cried out and rushed to join them, weapons raised and prepared to strike.
The dragon slammed its claws down and kicked with its hind legs, sending rock and debris shooting back while the group struggled to get beneath it. Everil ducked from a swipe of its claws and slashed, her blade gracing over its solid armor, merely scratching it. She rolled out of the way of a stomp and slashed and stabbed, catching an unprotected spot under its arm.
Sten released a cry of his own, swinging his greatsword and slicing the back end of a hind leg, severing several tendons over the joint. The dragon roared and hopped, flapping its wings and unleashing a gust of wind that swept over the battlefield. They all grunted, fighting against the gale threatening to knock them off their feet.
"Watch out!" screamed Leliana as the beast dropped in one explosive slam, throwing them all to the ground. It then took off again, this time flapping its wings faster, flying higher as it primed another breath. They struggled against the gusts again while Everil brought her arm up to protect her face from the dirt and dust. Then she saw its throat glow red once more.
"Incoming!" she yelled, leaping sideways to avoid the attack as fire missed her legs by inches.
The flames continued like a stream, burning everything while the fighters scrambled to flee from it. The woods around them were set ablaze in moments, illuminating the night skies as the dragon released an earth-shattering roar. An arrow came and hit it in the chest, making it screech as it fell, landing heavily once more. But it kept fighting, swiping at the next wave of arrows with its massive tail.
Panting for breath, Everil watched her companions run in again and attack its legs and belly. The beast's blood sprayed over the ground, oozing from its wounds. But although successful in injuring it, the dragon was relentless. And they were getting tired as it kept them on the defensive, forcing them to dodge after each hit they managed to land.
With a determined expression, she put away her dagger and broke into a run, wielding Elethea with both hands. The dragon saw her coming and sneered, waiting for her. She cried out, ready to swing with all her might when its massive maws snapped at her. Everil jumped out of the way, but it followed through, tilting its head and sweeping her with its horns. It knocked her off her feet and she hit the ground so hard that she dropped her sword and hit her head.
Everil heard someone call her name, but she couldn't make out who it was. She shakily pushed herself up, holding her sore stomach while trying to focus back on the dragon. But just as her sight cleared, its front claws were up, ready to strike her down. Her eyes widened as they came and she felt herself being tackled by something hard. A pain-filled cry reached her ears as she and the person holding her were sent flying to the edge of the clearing. Their bodies tumbled over bushes, dirt, and roots, and then darkness claimed her.
A roar pierced the night, stirring her awake from her brief lapse in consciousness. She opened her eyes with a soft moan, her head pounding as blood trickled from her temple. Everil found herself lying on her back, disoriented, in pain, and with someone's body pinning her back to the ground. She turned her head, unable to see their face, but quickly recognized the familiar blue on the person's collar.
Her breath caught in her throat. "Alistair…?"
But there was no response.
"Alistair," she called more forcefully, touching his sides to wake him. And it was then that her glove slipped over something wet and the scent of blood saturated her nostrils.
No… Worry gave way to panic as Everil frantically rolled him over and knelt beside him, her horrified stare landing on his mangled side. The dragon's claws had ripped apart his armor, carving three grizzly gashes through muscle and bone. "N-No… No, no, no..." She desperately pressed her hands to his wounds, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. "Alistair!"
A mighty roar made her head whip towards Flemeth as she drew in a breath and unleashed another jet of flames towards them. She was paralyzed by it, a mixture of anguish and frustration gripping her as she watched it come. Then a blackbird came flying from the woods and burst into magic before someone's back blocked her vision. A great wall of ice surged from the ground and the fire clashed against it, stopping it before it could reach them. It kept regenerating as the fire melted the surface, building new layers until the dragon's breath was spent.
"Morrigan…?" Everil stared at her in shock. "Why are you—"
"I do not know!" She gazed down at her with a troubled frown. "I just… could not leave."
Movement from the corner of their eyes drew their attention to Wynne, who was rushing to them with staff in hand. "Oh, no…" The mage knelt next to Alistair, worriedly cupping his pale cheek. "Andraste's mercy…"
Everil helplessly watched her inspect his wounds, seeing that he was barely breathing and blood was pooling beneath him. Shaking hands took one of his, holding it tightly as she tried to regain control of her nerves. He was dying. He was dying and there was nothing she could do to help him.
Hot anger rose within her, boiling over as she clenched her teeth. Flemeth would pay for what she did to him. She would make her pay.
"Wynne."
The old woman gazed at her, seeing the sharpness in her eyes.
"I want you to focus all of your energy on healing him," Everil commanded firmly. "Stay with him, no matter what happens."
"I will," Wynne replied and promptly summoned her powers, placing her wrinkled hands over his wounds.
"Morrigan." Everil stood and faced her. "Can you cast that ice sheet more than once?"
"Yes... I have enough mana for a few more spells."
"Good. I'm going to attack Flemeth head-on and I need you to use it to shield me every time she breathes fire."
Morrigan gave a firm nod. "Understood."
With renewed determination, the Grey Warden began to make her way to her sword, which lay upon the ground, waiting for her. The dragon spun around, using its tail to drive away those still fighting before returning its piercing glare to her. It snarled and growled, watching her emerge from the burning brush and step fearlessly through the flames.
Everil kept her gaze locked with the creature's and quickened her pace, breaking into a run as the beast prepared another attack. Crying out, she picked up her blade and charged, raising Elethea with both hands.
More flames came, hurling towards her and halting her advance as Morrigan raised a wall of ice before her. Everil protected her face with an arm as she waited for the flames to stop, their incredible heat kissing her skin. Then she ran once more, darting around her shield and straight towards her target.
The dragon screeched at the quickly approaching Warden, releasing another stream of fire that was again blocked by her daughter's power. This time Everil cut open what remained of her melting ice, breaking through and leading with her sword.
"Die, Flemeth!" she cried out and leaped off the ground, plunging her blade deep into its flesh. The dragon shrieked in agony as Everil let go of her weapon, leaving it buried within it while retreating several steps. Panting heavily, she watched it squirm and reach for her sword as flames swirled around it, engulfing it as they had before. The blaze raged on, ricing like a storm as the witch began to shift and shrink.
Morrigan cautiously approached the Warden, focused on her mother's agonizing form as conflicting emotions coursed through her.
With effort, Flemeth shapeshifted back to her human self, holding on to the blade still piercing her chest while barely standing. The Witch of the Wilds let out a broken cackle, sights upon her daughter. "You… have learned more than I expected." A wicked smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Well done... Morrigan."
A surge of magical power enveloped her, then as quickly as it came, it dissipated along with the witch herself. The bloodied sword clanked to the ground and then something more dropped with it. Silence followed, stretching on as Everil neared her blade and picked it up. "We did it…"
"My mother is resourceful…" said Morrigan, sighing tiredly. "She would have planned ahead for this."
Everil scowled, then gazed towards the empty space where the body should have been. "So she's still out there?"
"Yes… But you have bought me some time nonetheless." Morrigan paused as she leaned over to take the other item her mother left behind. It was another book, a leafless tree etched over its black cover. Her true grimoire...? Why would she be carrying it with her?
"I have to go check on Alistair..." Everil sheathed her weapon, turned and ran, heading back towards Wynne. She jogged to a halt and fell on her knees again, looking over her fellow Warden with growing concern. The others in her party slowly gathered around them, all carrying minor injuries of their own. Bjorn approached Alistair's unconscious form, whining a little while nuzzling his cheek.
"Warden Everil…" Wynne gazed at her as a drop of sweat slid down her brow. "There was a great deal of internal damage I had to mend. I managed to close the wounds but he has lost a lot of blood…" She sighed and shook her head. "I have done all I can for him…"
Her heart twisted painfully, eyes trailing down to him as a suffocating knot formed inside her throat. "There has to be something more..." She placed a hand over his chest and looked to the other mage. "Morrigan… You know of healing herbs. Is there anything you can do?"
"I know of herbs but I am not as well versed as my mother was…" she answered with a rare apologetic expression. "He will require someone with more experience than I."
"Lying out here in the cold will not help him," Wynne added quietly, a hand on hers in a calming gesture. "We should hurry back to Redcliffe. Perhaps the bann can also recruit the help of a healer."
"I..." Everil swallowed, helplessly hanging her head. "I need one of you to seek out our horses. If they were trained properly, they should still be in the area. Bjorn will guide you to them."
"I'll go," Zevran offered soberly and then motioned for the dog to lead the way. "Let us go, boy."
"Thank you, Zevran…" she whimpered, unable to keep the distress from her voice. He bowed his head, then followed the hound. They hurried down the road, the fires around them still lighting up the night sky.