Chapter 89: Witch's Bane
A cold drizzly rain fell on the warden camp. The thick cloying mists so common here in Korcari Wilds wrapped their tendrils around the many tents.
Within her own, Morrigan stirred.
The witch shivered, pulling her fur blanket up around her neck, but sadly, still leaving her pale back bare.
She grumbled.
Twas it always so cold here?
She truly could not remember it ever being this cold…ever.
She reached out behind her, questing for Alistair's hard muscled body, and the warmth that it offered.
A fool he might have been, but he was a handsome one, and all hers…
The least he could do was keep her warm on a dreary morning.
Her hands found nothing, only a warm spot on the furs where he had once lain.
Morrigan opened her amber eyes and sat up. She looked around her tent, finding only confirmation that she was alone.
The young witch sighed.
Alistair had said that he and Alim had wished to start early this morning, to try and catch her mother unaware.
Not an easy task to be sure.
She wrapped herself in her robes and feathers, putting up her hair in its familiar style.
She slipped out into the camp, finding it all but deserted.
The old woman sat before the fire, wrapped in a heavy fur cloak, keeping watch Morrigan supposed.
The witch paused taking in the sounds of the wilds, the crisp…quite spring air.
She turned to Wynne.
"Have they all left?"
The old mage pursed her lip with distaste.
"Not all," she replied, "Our guards are still in their tent."
Morrigan glanced where the elder mage had pointed. She could still hear the sound of cooing, and groaning.
The witch rolled her eyes.
Seri and Zevran had volunteered to stay behind, mostly because they wished to continue exploring their physical desires.
Like they had not done enough of that last night, Morrigan thought, the dwarf and the elf had kept half the camp up last night with their antics.
At least she and Alistair were discreet enough to stay to her tent, far enough away that they did not disturb the others.
Morrigan padded over to the fire, she helped herself to a bowl of porridge in the groups large stew pot, it was mostly gone, but she had managed to find enough to at least slake her hunger.
Wynne offered a mug of hot tea, which she accepted gratefully.
The witch shook her head.
The wilds had changed, and not for the better.
The darkspawns' presence had…tainted her childhood home. Things that had once been merely dangerous were now malevolent as well. The shadows now leaked with the taint, its foul presence killing all that was once beautiful in her beloved home.
Morrigan found herself pursing her lips; a sense of melancholy came over her.
It was unlikely that she would ever be able to call the wilds home again. Even if Flemeth did not survive the next few hours, Morrigan would never be able to return to this place.
The illusion of safety that she had enjoyed as a girl was now gone.
The wilds as she knew them…was now gone.
It was most…disheartening.
Wynne gave her a curious look.
"Are you all right dear?"
The witch glared at her.
"I'm fine old woman, now leave me in peace!"
She rose stalking back to her tent. She could still feel the old woman's eyes on her, not to mention the thing that they all knew was a part of her.
The witch shook her head.
She tried to have faith, to trust in Alistair, Alim and the others.
There little group had done much in the past few months, was killing the witch of the wilds really that much different than their other deeds.
She did not think so.
She tried to convince herself that it was so.
She found herself thinking back to her first meeting with Alistair and Alim all those long months ago, and about the plan that Flemeth had outlined to her after they had left.
Flemeth's cruel features rose up in her memory.
"Tis the moment you were born for my girl,' Mother had purred, "Together…you and I will change the face of this world. Tis not some mere task that send you on, tis…tis the business of the future."
Flemeth smiled then.
"You shall bear the future of this world, a symbol of freedom that will be known for centuries."
Morrigan felt her fingers curl into angry fists.
Flemeth had been very clever, but she had not counted on her daughter finding her old grimoire.
Morrigan now understood that Flemeth had never intended for her to bear the future, merely to be the brood mare, the shell that she would seize when the time was right, and when…when the future they envisioned came into being…
Flemeth would have stolen that too.
The witch cursed under her breath.
The plan would continue, she would see to that, but without Flemeth's interference.
She sighed.
If Alim and Alistair knew how important they were, how truly important…
They would never understand.
She shook her head.
Perhaps it would be better if they never understood.
Hopefully, she thought…
…They never would.
IOI
Alim led the group deeper into the stinky marshlands that surrounded Flemeth's hut.
He tried to follow the witch's direction as best as he could, too many had gotten lost in this place over the centuries, lost and never seen again.
He had no desire to find out what happened to them.
The group was quiet this morning, most of them no doubt nervous about what they would soon face. Fergus seemed the worst, no doubt remembering being lost in this place back before the Battle of Ostagar.
Kally stayed close by, the one eyed elf kept close watch on him, offering a friendly hand when he needed it.
Alim took that as a good sign. Kally had been…hurt that Fergus had not trusted them with who he had truly been. That hurt had quickly turned to anger, most of it directed at Gus, there would be Teyrn turned ally. Slowly, that anger had dulled as they continued their travels, the concern that she had felt for Fergus seemed to be returning.
Alim was grateful for that.
He needed everyone fighting at their best.
He did not think for a moment that Flemeth would fall easily.
She had lived too long for that.
Alistair stared grimly ahead of them. The elven warden worried about that. He knew that Alistair had come to care for Morrigan over these last few months. He hoped that those feelings would not get in the way when they encountered Morrigan's mother.
The witch of the wilds would no doubt turn such feelings to her advantage.
Theron followed closely behind them, murmuring Dalish prayers under his breath, asking the gods for their protection.
The Dalish had their own tales of Flemeth, the one they called the woman of many years. Those tales usually ended with whoever tried to deal with her in little pieces, hanging from the trees.
The Dalish had no desire to share the fate of those poor souls.
Alim concurred on that fact.
He had no desire to die here either.
The air seemed to warm the deeper they went into the wilds; finally they came to the path that Alim remembered from all those months ago. The path that led to Flemeth's hut stretched out before them.
He took a deep breath and mustered his courage.
It is time, he thought…
Here we go.
IOI
Alim strode up to the hut, the large cauldron sat cold and empty on the witch's dead fire pit.
He drew his staff as he scanned the area around them. He saw no sign of their quarry, but that did not mean that Flemeth was not watching them.
He would be shocked if she wasn't.
"Where is she?" he heard Alistair murmur.
He shook his head. He glanced back at the tree line where Leliana and Theron stood with their bows, ready should Flemeth try something…unusual. The bard would…
"And so you return."
Alim nearly jumped as Flemeth stepped out of her hut, the old witch smirked at the warriors and rogues arranged around her…
Surrounding her.
Flemeth smiled.
No longer clad in the rags Alim remembered, Flemeth stood before them a woman transformed. Fine scale armor with black iron boots, gauntlets and shoulder plates, her long white hair pulled up in horn like braids on her head, a head now adorned with a small black tiara.
Looking every bit the noble woman she had been centuries ago.
Flemeth's amber eyes twinkled with amusement, and Alim and his allies.
Her smile turned into a cruel smirk.
"Well," she purred, "It seems that lovely Morrigan has finally found someone to dance to her tune."
She glanced at Alistair with pure disdain.
"Such…enchanting music she plays…would you not agree dear boy."
He glared at her, a Templar on the hunt for a dangerous maleficar, a Templar that had finally found his quarry.
"We know your secret Flemeth," he growled.
The witch threw back her head and laughed, which only further antagonized Alistair.
The old witch shook her head.
"Which one I wonder," she inquired, "What has she told you hm? What little plan has she hatched this time?"
Alim stepped forward.
"She told us how you extend your lifespan, she knows now."
"That she does," Flemeth shrugged, "The question is…do you?"
Oghren snorted loudly.
"How much longer are we going to listen to this cackling? If this is going to get bloody, let's get to it."
Alim glared at him.
Flemeth did not seem to mind.
"So what happens now?" she asked, "Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids, or does this story take a different turn."
"We need Morrigan," Alistair snarled, "We have no choice in this."
Flemeth glared at him.
"Choice," she spat, "There is power in choice young man, as there is in lies. Allow me to give you one of each."
She turned to Alim.
"Morrigan wishes my grimoire, fine, let her have it, take it as a trophy, tell her I am slain."
Alim's ears twitched with surprise.
"And what would happen to you?"
"I go," Flemeth shrugged, "Perhaps I surprise Morrigan one day."
Her eyes turned distant.
"It might be interesting to see what she does with her freedom, enlightening even."
She smiled again at Alim.
"Would you give an old woman that?"
He considered her offer. Flemeth had never done him any harm, he…
"No deal," Alistair growled.
Alim shot his friend a surprised look.
What was he doing!?
"Shame," Flemeth purred, "So what do we do now?"
Alistair drew his sword and pointed it at her breast.
"You die," he growled.
Flemeth smirked.
"This is a dance that Flemeth knows well; let us see if she remembers the steps..."
The witch strode up to a hill overlooking her hut; she turned to the wardens and their allies.
"Come," she growled, "She will give what she takes, I would have it no other way."
A blinding flash of light, filled the wilds, forcing Alim to look away, it was a flash he knew well, he had seen it many times when Morrigan transformed, but this was larger, much stronger.
A deafening roar shook the wilds!
Alim's eyes widened with horror.
Flemeth was gone, transformed, but in her place…
The elf swallowed hard.
In her place stood a high dragon! It towered over the wardens and their allies. Its lusty roar sent flights of birds flapping for safety.
Only two words came to the elf's mind, probably shared by his companions.
"Oh Shit!"
IOI
Leliana dodged as the trees around her became an inferno!
The bard flipped over a collapsing tree. She had lost track of Theron in the flight from the wall of flame spat by the dragon, but given the number of arrows sticking out of the witch-dragon's hide, it was a safe bet that the Dalish hunter was still alive.
Thunder rumbled overhead, as a cold stinging rain fell on the battlefield. Lightning knifed down from the sky striking the dragon, who roared with fury! She breathed fire at the target of her rage, fire quickly caught in a maelstrom that spun around the one guiding the storm, bringing all its fury down on Flemeth.
Alim, the last of the stormbreakers.
The warden.
Her love.
Oghren, Shayle, Fergus, Sten, Alistair, and Kally, attacked the dragon from all sides, cutting deep into its scaled flesh.
Leliana did her best to keep the arrows coming, targeting the beast's eyes and mouth. Her blue eyes watered from the flashes of lightning, sweat soaked her body from the heat of the flames and the excitement and fear coursing through her veins.
Never had she felt more alive.
Those feelings terrified her.
Bandit bounded across the battlefield eager to join the fight, the dragon lowered her head to snap at the Mabari.
Alim drew spellbinder, sending spinning end over end, carry aloft by the winds.
The sword buried itself deep into the dragon's snout.
It roared in fury. Though not nearly as terrifying as Alim's voice, magnified by magic and the winds he called on to aid him.
"Don't touch my dog you fucking bitch!"
Flemeth sent another fireball screaming towards her.
Leliana did her best to get out of the way, but the ground exploded beneath her, launching her into the air.
She tried to turn her flight into a controlled flip but she knew immediately that she would fail.
She came down hard, she heard her ankle snap.
She cried out in agony!
The dragon hissed. It rose above her like some ancient evil god. It drew back its head, preparing to breathe a curtain of flame over her body.
Alim shrieked with fury, as he pointed up to the clouds. Pregnant with fury the storm responded.
Lightning crashed down on Flemeth, more bolt than had struck Uldred during the fight in the circle tower.
Yet still, the dragon refused to fall. Her scales burnt, her wings tattered, and she still refused to submit to defeat.
She glared down at the elven mage with raw, naked fury!
Alim grinned at her.
"Have I got you attention now?"
Flemeth charged like a maddened bull, lowering her head to snap at him.
Alim was ready.
"STENNNNNN!" he shouted.
The Qunari responded. He tossed his sword into the air.
Alim caught it with the wind, and used it much as he had used spellbinder earlier.
The blue steel blade found its mark.
It pierced the dragon-witch's throat, sealing off her wind pipe.
The dragon shook her head violently, trying to shake the blade free; alas it was anchored firm, caught deep in her scales.
She tried to breathe fire, hoping that would clear her throat.
Alim grinned.
The witch had done exactly what he had hoped she would.
They had talked often, the Qunari and the elf, trying to come up with a strategy to kill the Archdemon when the time came. This had been one of their ideas.
Alim was not sure if it would work on the Archdemon, but it looked to be working here.
Smoke rolled out of Flemeth's snout, but no flames, only sparks.
Her neck bulged painfully.
The dragon stared at her quarry with fury and no small amount of shock.
Alim grinned at her.
"Goodbye," he murmured.
Flemeth tried to fly off, but did not get very far; the fire building in her throat had nowhere to go!
So it went the only place it could.
Everywhere.
The dragon's neck exploded, violently, showering the group in burning blood and flaming flesh.
The witch-dragon's head tumbled into the swamp while her body crashed back down to the ground, writhing as it struggle to live, struggled to fight.
Alas, it was a losing battle.
Flemeth was dead.
Her body just had not accepted it yet.
As violently as the fight began, it ended.
The dragon finally fell still, the only sound still haunting the wilds was the rumble of the thunder and quickly rain drenched flames.
Exhausted and covered in blood and ash, Alim staggered over to Flemeth's head, its eyes staring blanking ahead.
He snorted as he drew spellbinder from her ruined skull, a cruel sneer on his face.
He looked around at the others, making sure everyone was still standing.
Fergus lay against a tree; the knight was wounded, but not too seriously by the look. Kally was tending to him.
Sten climbed through the gore, recovering his still glowing sword from the witch dragon's corpse. The Qunari seemed quite proud of himself.
Alim did not blame him.
One by one the others were accounted for. Leliana could not walk, but that was not a problem now that Flemeth was dead. Wynne and Morrigan could be brought to tend to her injuries, to all their injuries.
Alim turned to Alistair, his fellow warden was kneeling on the ground, exhausted from the fight, yet otherwise unharmed.
The elf glared at him.
They would have words later, harsh words, Alim might have been able to talk Flemeth out of this, but thanks to the Templar, that had not been possible.
…And all because of Morrigan.
They could have been killed, every last one of them and all because Alistair cared about Morrigan.
It…it wasn't right!
Are you really that surprised, he thought?
He considered that, knowing Alistair the way he did, he really wasn't.
He thought of Leliana lying wounded, not seriously, but it could have been…
If Flemeth had threatened her, would you not have acted as Alistair did?
He pursed his lips at the thought.
He wanted deny it, but found they he couldn't.
He…he understood why Alistair had acted the way he had…
…but that did not mean that he had to like it, and he didn't…
He…he did not like it at all.
No he and Ali would have words later.
The Templar would not like them.