Chapter 111: Losses
Nature had gone mad.
That was the thought that ran through Theron's mind as gale force winds ripped across their destroyed camp. Lightning lashed like a jagged blade, setting fire to the trees and bushes at the edges of the camp. Ghouls and darkspawn were flung violently through the air. The creatures' cries were lost in the loud claps of thunder that seemed to shake the world around them.
The Dalish warden ducked, just missing being struck by a mortally wounded shriek that had Alim's winds flung into a large boulder. Rain lashed at his skin as he drew firmly gripped his hand ax and dagger. He tried to remain upright, his weapons ready to meet whatever new threat the Archdemon threw at them.
The elf shook his head.
He had never really understood what Alim was, not until this moment. He had heard the stories of course, growing up among the clan how could he not? Hahren Paivel did know at least a few stories about the Stormbreakers, the Alagos Poldor.
Those stories had not done the ancient elvhen order justice.
The Alagos Poldor existed during the days of Elvhenan. Little of their exploits survived, but the people did still know of them. They had existed as protectors of the realm, guardians of the people against foreign attack. Their power had been great, to face the legion of the Alagos Poldor was said to court death.
Of course, like all things of the people, even the Alagos Poldor had been lost.
The Hahren did not know the whole story of what had happened, only the rumors told since the days of slavery in Tevinter.
It was said that the stormbreakers had been failing by the time Tevinter came for the people. There numbers had dwindled, no one really knew why. Some said that it was a result of the quickening the humans brought, that it stole the talent from the people. Others said that the Alagos Poldor had grown too arrogant, that they had angered the Creators, and been cursed for it. Another story said that their great bloodline had failed, that the nobles had let their blood weaken, that the talent had not been fostered in the future generations.
Whatever the reason, the result was the same. By the time Tevinter attacked Elvhenan, there were precious few of the Alagos Poldor left. Those that weren't killed were sacrificed by the human mages, arrogant men seeking to steal the power of the storm for themselves. It was believed that the talent had been lost, that the Stormbreakers were lost to time, as so much of what the elves possessed had been.
It seemed that they had been wrong.
The Stormbreakers had returned, or rather, one had.
Alim Surana was alive.
The winds began to die down. The camp had been all but destroyed. Theron reached out with his warden senses, he could tell that at least a few of the darkspawn and ghouls still drew breath.
He swallowed hard, mustering his courage.
They still had much to do.
The group staggered around their camp, few showed no sign of injury. Alim leaned against a tree; two arrows sticking out of his chest, a small bit of blood ran out of the side of his mouth. Bandit laid at his master's side, whimpering fearfully, while Leliana kneeled before him, a worried look on her face.
"Do it," He heard the mage hiss.
"It…it will hurt, dearest," he heard her say.
Alim clenched his hands at his side.
"Just…do…it," he repeated.
The bard nodded.
Theron approached her,
She glanced up at him.
"Hold him down," she told him.
Theron nodded, he grasped their leader firmly by the shoulders. He swallowed, knowing what was to come.
He held out his dagger to Alim.
"You might want to bite down on this," the Dalish advised, "This…this is going to hurt."
Alim shook his head no; he thought he could handle it.
Theron shrugged.
It was his choice after all.
Leliana grasped the first arrow, she held Alim firmly in her gaze.
He nodded, fighting the urge to cough.
"I love you," she murmured.
He nodded again.
She took a deep breath…
…and ripped out the arrow.
Alim howled.
"MOTHER FU…AHHHH!"
Thunder rumbled overhead.
The mage hissed in pain, but clenched his teeth.
He nodded again.
There was still one arrow left.
This one had passed through his chest and out the other side, Leliana had broken off the barbed tip, but it was still going to hurt when it was removed.
The elf hissed, and mouthed: Do it.
Again Leliana nodded.
She yanked out the second shaft.
Alim bucked, but Theron held him fast, keeping him pinned to the ground.
The mage cried out in pain, his eyes started to roll over, like he was going to pass out, but somehow he managed to stay awake.
A cold rain fell on the camp, no doubt bringing the Alagos Poldor back around.
A blue glow filled the mage's body. He gasped as wounds began to close, healing magic knitting his flesh back together.
He did not stop until the two wounds were completely gone. Alim was left extremely pale, sweating, and panting like his Mabari warhound, but he was still alive.
He gave Leliana a weak smile.
"See," he gasped, "No…no problem at…all."
She glared at him, even as a tear of joy ran down her cheek.
"OLD WOMAN! GET OVER HERE, NOW!"
Morrigan's command drew their attention, the witch was leaning over Alistair who was groaning painfully, the witch was trying to heal him, but the wounds were deep, and bleeding.
Theron frowned.
The witch of the wild had little talent for the healing arts, but Wynne was occupied, tending to Seri, The dwarf was pale bleeding from a deep wound in her thigh.
Alim snorted and stood on unsteady legs; he staggered and almost fell, but still managed to remain upright.
Leliana and Theron were at his side, holding him up.
Kally appeared out of nowhere, holding a small blue vial.
Alim took it with a nod, and downed it with a single gulp.
The lyrium made him sputter, but he seemed steadier than he had been mere moments ago.
"I'm okay," he gasped, his ears twitching erratically.
He stumbled towards Alistair with Leliana at his side.
Theron went to help as well, but Alim waved him off.
"Help…help Kally and Fergus," he ordered, "Find any darkspawn or ghoul survivors."
He winced from the pain.
"We…we can't let even one of those bastards…get away, they will trail us… or bring back reinforcements."
Theron nodded.
There were times when Alim did think like a keeper, this was one of those times.
The Dalish would not disappoint him.
He bounded off to assist their allies.
Alim was not wrong.
They could not let even one of those monsters escape.
If they did, all might be lost.
IOI
Theron adopted the easy hunter's tread that he had used many times in the service of his clan; he held his weapons at the ready, letting his warden senses guide him.
He had picked up the trail of several ghouls fleeing the battle. Kally and Fergus had come across a pair of shrieks and dealt with them quickly. Slowly the group was restoring order to their little camp, but not without cost.
The Dalish grimaced.
Their supplies were mostly gone. Bodahn's cart was damaged by salvageable. Alim, Seri, Alistair, Zevran, and Sten had all suffered grave wounds, grave…but thanks to magic, survivable.
Theron's hands tightened around his weapons.
Not all of them had been so lucky.
Fergus had found the shem scholar Brother Genitivi not far from the camp. He had been sitting under a tree studying some of the scrolls they had found in the cultists' temple, and had likely dozed off. A ghoul had managed to cut the old man's throat while he slept. He likely had not even been aware of what was going on.
The Dalish licked his lips.
During the attack, he had felt it, the bloodlust of the darkspawn, the all-consuming desire to kill and destroy. He had also been swept up in the bloodlust, striking in a frenzy against any spawn who dared to get too close. That bloodlust had made him strong, but it had also made him sloppy, he had several minor wounds as proof of that.
He shook his head.
He hated the fact that he was now linked to the foul creatures, that connection had saved his life, but the cost…the cost…
Theron shivered.
It…it was a strange sensation, that link with the very monsters they now hunted.
Sometimes…it frightened him.
He was part of them now. He was part of the banalhan, part of the Blight.
He was glad that Merrill was safely away from him, away from this.
The Dalish shook his head.
He was glad she could not see him like this.
Theron paused; he sniffed the air, and let the world fall away, adopting the stillness that the hunters of his clan had trained him for.
He could almost smell, them the smell of rot and decay.
It seemed that at least a few of the ghouls had survived.
He followed his senses, pausing only briefly to make sure that he was not being stalked, from the sound he was hearing the creatures were trying to escape, he could hear the wheezing and the heaviness of their steps.
Wounded then? Good, that would make what happened next far easier.
There was a lot of scrub brush here, but few trees. For a human this would be most treacherous, their night vision was nothing compared to one of the people.
In the darkness he could make out to shapes hunched against some large rocks, not darkspawn, at least they did not feel like darkspawn, that and he could feel the pain rolling off them through the taint.
That likely meant they were ghouls, wounded, but not defenseless.
The elf raised his weapons, wishing that he had grabbed his bow, now he would have to get in close and do this quickly.
It was risky, even a wounded animal could be dangerous, sometimes…more so.
He advanced slowly trying to become invisible; the wheezing ghouls did not seem to be even aware of him, lost in the taint and their own injuries. That was good too.
It would be over before they even had a chance to react.
He paused, observing his prey; he sheathed his dagger, drawing a small throwing knife.
It was not his preferred weapon, but he had gotten use to using it when dealing with wounded animals.
Sometimes you did not have time to draw your bow; a knife could sometimes be a life saver.
He aimed for the first ghoul, a large human in baggy clothes; it was leaned over tending to one of its wounded brethren.
No…not tending.
Theron almost gasped.
The ghoul was eating.
A wave of revulsion shook him, he readied his knife…
The attack came from the side.
A third ghoul slammed into Theron flinging him to the ground, his throwing knife tumbled from his hand while the ghoul brought all his weight crashing down on the Dalish.
Slender fingers wrapped around Theron's windpipe, choking him.
The diseased ghoul shrieked in triumph!
Theron struggled, he still held onto his ax, but the ghoul had his arm pinned behind him.
As they fought the Dalish heard a snarl.
The human ghoul no doubt coming to see what its ally had caught!
He tried to fight the monster off.
A string of Dalish obscenities sprang from his lips, directed at the creature and whatever mother had spawned it. It was in that moment that something strange happened.
The ghoul loosened his grip.
It was just what Theron needed.
He was able to get his legs between himself and his attack, he pistoned them back, knocking the ghoul back. He rolled quickly to his feet, just as the human ghoul sprang at him.
Theron struck out with his ax, it found its mark in the large ghoul's throat.
The creature stumbled and fell forward, the blade still stuck in the monster's throat. Theron lost his ax, but he was not unarmed.
He drew his dagger, and turned to deal with the remaining ghoul the one who tried to strangle him.
He snarled in barely restrained fury.
The ghoul whimpered it had fallen hard damaging its leg, it was trying to stand, or perhaps crawl away.
Theron would not give it that chance.
Dagger in hand, he pounced, pinning the creature beneath him. He raised his blade, ready to bring it down on the creature's head.
It looked at him with white milky eyes, its hairless head drenched in fever sweat and covered in black sores, the points of its ears looked ragged an torn, the markings on the face…
Theron froze.
He…he knew those markings! He had seen them before! They…they were!
"Lessss…lethallin?" the ghoul panted.
Theron's eyes widened in shock.
The ghoul whimpered; black ruddy tears were running down its cheeks.
"Lethallin…sooooo…soooo…sorry leth…lethallin!"
The Dalish whimpered.
He…he…
Oh Creators!
"Tam…Tamlen," he whimpered.
His old clan mate whimpered.
"It…it wants me to hurt you…hurt you Ther…I…I don't…don't want…but the song…the song!"
Tamlen shrieked. He pawed at the ground like a wounded animal.
Theron almost sobbed.
Tamlen, he…he thought he was gone. The clan…they…they had lost him. They thought him dead!
This…this was much worse.
"Fight it Tamlen," he shouted, "Fight it lethallin! I can help you! The wardens can…"
"NOOOOO!"
Tamlen back handed him. He shrieked into the night like one of those foul darkspawn that shared the same name.
He leapt on his clansman, his best friend like a wild animal, a small blade in hand…
…A blade that would no doubt tear out Theron's throat.
He pounced and…
Tamlen…the Tamlen thing froze, its pale milky eyes widened.
He and Theron were eye to eye, the Dalish warden whimpered.
"Abelas," he murmured.
"Emma ir abelas."
Tainted blood ran from Tamlen's mouth, slowly, almost gingerly he fell on his side. Theron lay next to his, his dagger buried deep in his friend's ribs.
Warden looked at ghoul.
Ghoul looked at warden.
The Tamlen thing whimpered, it grimaced, its teeth now were longer than an elf, giving him…it a permanent savage smile.
"Mas…mas…"
Theron struggled to hear what his friend was saying. He…he could not…
Tamlen…the Tamlen thing sighed.
"Mas…Serannas," he sighed.
The light faded from the ghoul's cloudy eyes, stillness came over him that was far more than mere sleep.
Finally, he was still.
Finally, Tamlen was at peace.
Theron said nothing.
What…what could he possibly say?
He…he had killed Tamlen.
He had killed him for the second time.
Theron could not move.
He simply lay there, sobbing like a da'len.
Mourning his friend, and…
Mourning himself.