Chapter 113: Specters of the Future
Leliana couldn't sleep.
The bard lay on her side in the soft bed, yet found no rest there. After so many nights of sleeping on the hard ground it was a changing of pace to be certain. It should have put her straight to sleep, but instead she lay awake, staring into the shadows. The silken sheets felt glorious against her bare skin, yet she found no comfort. The firm mattress and soft pillow should have been enough to send her into the deepest of slumbers…
Yet, that did not happen, not this time. The dying embers in the fireplace did little to push back the darkness, strange shadows danced in the fading light, the dawn still so far away could do nothing to push back the darkness.
She shivered, wrapping herself tightly in the fur blankets. Yet even that soft warmth brought no solace or comfort.
How could it?
She frowned deeply.
The visions had returned.
IOI
The group made their way back to Redcliffe with little incident, between the trader's men, and the wardens and their allies, no bandit would have dared try to move against them. Every one of Alim's companions breathed a very large sigh of relief when Redcliffe Castle finally came into view. Even the wardens could not help but smile.
It had been a hard road, but they had done it!
They had made it back to the Arl.
They wasted no time in returning to the Castle. Bann Teagan met them out front in the courtyard, no doubt having received reports of them coming up the road. Eamon's condition had not changed, the Arl still lived, but there was no improvement.
When Alim produced the ashes there was an immediate air of excitement. Teagan summoned the priests and even several mages who had arrived a few days earlier.
All were eager to see if the fabled ashes would live up to their legendary reputation!
It took the chantry priests several hours to prepare, during that time the wardens and their allies were finally able to freshen up. Tegrin's help had been appreciated, but nothing could compare to feel of hot water a few hours rest.
Leliana and Alim took a room together. For almost two hours they dozed, wrapped contently in each other's arms. Even then Leliana could feel the fingers of something pulling at her unconscious mind, pulling her away from her restful dreams and towards something else, something more powerful…
…Something…much…much darker.
Fortunately, an elven servant woke them before she could slip too far into those shadows. She and Alim rose and dressed. Alim, Alistair, Wynne, and herself all were assembled at the Arl's bedside. Teagan and Lady Isolde stood at the nobleman's side, ready to be there to greet him when this worked…
…If it worked.
The bard had faith, after everything she had seen in the temple, how could she not trust that the ashes would do their work? Yet, that tiny part of her still remained, the cynical bard who had wandered so effortlessly through the Orlesian court at Marjolaine's side.
That part of her still mocked the faith. It tried to push her out of the Maker's light and back into the shadows that had haunted her for so long.
Marjolaine might be dead, but her teachings remained, they had helped shape Leliana into the woman she was today, almost as much as her time in the chantry had…
The part of her that was the bard had left scars, but scars were not a thing to be feared, they were symbols of strength, what one had endured. She would no longer let them decide the course of her life.
She walked in the Maker's light now, whatever came, she would never forget that.
As long as he was with her, she would not fall.
So she stood back and watched as the ashes were brought to the Arl. She watched and waited for the Maker's grace to give birth to a miracle.
The priests chanted softly while the mage sprinkled the ashes over the Arl's body, the ashes themselves seemed to sparkle a bit in the fire light, whether that was from the chanting or the mage's presence none could be sure. Whatever it was, the ashes did not seem to stain the Arl's sheets or his bedclothes, if anything they seemed to drift through the fabric, finding the man's skin underneath.
What happened next was nothing more than miraculous.
A strange whisper filled the chamber, a soft light suffused the nobleman, and as it grew brighter, shadows drifted from him like wisps of smoke. Even the priest took a step back in surprise, not that anyone could blame her.
No one had known what affect the ashes would have. Only what they had hoped would happen.
Once the light faded, the Arl began to stir; his breathing became stronger, not so sedate.
He coughed slightly, then to the surprise of everyone.
Arl Eamon opened his eyes.
He blinked and coughed again, glancing around the room for the first time since he had first fallen ill.
He swallowed hard.
"Brother?" Bann Teagan murmured.
The Arl blinked again.
"Wh…where…where am I?" he whispered.
"Be calm, brother," Teagan continued, "You have been greatly ill for some time. Do you remember anything?"
The elder noble shook his head. His hands clenched against the bed sheets.
"Then it wasn't a dream," he sighed.
He glanced up, looking into the eyes of his wife; she gave him a pained smile.
"Isolde?"
"I am here, my husband," the Arlessa cooed.
Arl Eamon's eyes widened.
"Connor? Where is my son? Where is my boy?"
Isolde whimpered. Teagan lowered his head.
"He…he is gone brother. Redcliffe had been saved, but…but Connor…we were unable to…
The Arl's breath caught in his throat.
It was clear that he could guess what the price had been for his house this day. What the price of his people's lives had been worth.
The older man nodded grimly. For years he had stood watch over Redcliffe.
Such a man did not rise to such a height by letting his emotions rule him. In time, he would mourn the passing of his son, but for now.
The business of protecting his homeland took precedence.
"Much has happened while you were ill, brother," Teagan continued, "We need you now more than ever."
"Tell me everything," he ordered, "Leave nothing out."
Teagan nodded.
There was so much to tell.
IOI
Arl Eamon was not a man to rest on his laurels, even as he continued to recover, he was far from idle. Once Teagan had explained what had happened. Ostagar, Cailan, Loghain, Jowan, and the civil war, the Arl had wasted no time in putting his own plans in motion.
A full flock of birds left the tower of castle Redcliffe, each bearing messages to Eamon's allies. Included among these messages were letters from Alim to the allies he had gathered. One for King Bhelen of Orzammar, another for Knight-Commander Greagoir, and First Enchanter Irving of the Circle of Magi, the Dalish elves did not use such forms of communication, but that did not mean that the wardens could not reach them. Before they had left the Dalish months ago, Keeper Lanaya had presented Alim with something she called an elven stone. One of the few relics her clan still possessed from the time of their great kingdom. The stone would allow the warden to contact her to summon her forces to join the rest of their army at Redcliffe. The Keeper would then pass on the summons to every other Dalish clan in Ferelden and hopefully elsewhere. It would take the elves time to gather, but in the end it would be worth it to have their weapons bound with the rest of the forces the wardens had gathered.
After months of hiding, finally, Ferelden was moving toward being able to make a stand against the darkspawn horde. Of course, the forces that the wardens had gathered, as well as Arl Eamon's allies would mean little if the Ferelden Civil War continued…
No, the war needed to end now, which meant that the matter of the throne of Ferelden needed to be decided. Loghain still held the capital with an iron hand. The Banns in the north had been mostly defeated by now, with little opposition remaining. Rendon Howe was now known as the Teyrn of Highever. His son Thomas ruling both that city and their own Amaranthine in his father's name, Elissa Cousland remained in the field, or at least that was the rumor that Eamon's agents had heard. Why she had not taken up the throne of her home herself no one could guess.
Fergus Cousland was coldly silent at such news. His sister's betrayal had hit him hard. Even Kallian, who had grown quite close with the nobleman, could not elicit an answer from him.
Alim did not even try to pry into the man's business. The affairs and betrayals of the noble houses of Ferelden were beyond him. As a warden his place was to do what he could to defend his homeland against the Blight.
Right now, the business of who was sitting on the Teyrn's throne in Highever castle was a minor concern.
Dealing with Loghain now took precedence.
Arl Eamon recognized that the path to victory lay in Denerim. They could not afford to fight this Civil War to its conclusion not with the darkspawn marching even now across much of central Ferelden. The nation needed to stand united against this threat, and there was only one way to do that.
The throne needed to be stabilized; they needed a ruler far stronger than Loghain's daughter the queen.
Teagan surprised everyone by deducing what his brother was thinking.
Alistair…needed to be put forward as king.
The decision made the former Templar pale. All his life he had been told that the throne was not his, and never would be his. Now, to hear Arl Eamon, the closest thing he had had as father, suggesting that that was now changed…
It was a little hard for the young man to take in.
Alim chose not to get between the two men in this. In truth, he had been thinking the same thing since Alistair had first told him about his lineage.
Cailan had been a fool, a brave fool perhaps, but a fool none the less. Alistair had proven himself in battle. He had stood on the front lines during most of their battles to secure the grey warden treaties…
Plus, Alim had grown to trust him over these past few months. Alistair had a good heart, and strong convictions. He would need both if they were to keep the nobles in line.
Of course, it would not be quite so simple. Loghain would no doubt seek to block Alistair's ascent, and then there was the fact that his mother had been a commoner. At least, some of the nobles would frown on the circumstances of his birth, the son of King Maric or not.
Still it was a good idea; Alim would do what he could to aid his friend in this endeavor. Right now, Alistair was still on the fence about the idea. He would do his duty to his homeland…
…But that did not mean that he would not search for a way out of it.
Once that business was decided, talk turned to matters close at home to the Arl, particularly the life of Alim's old friend Jowan. Eamon no doubt blamed the man for his son's death; after all, it was by Jowan's actions that the whole sorry business had first come to pass.
Alim's ears lowered slightly as the matter was discussed. He requested that the Arl suspend any judgement until the next morning.
The warden mage needed time to think, and the fact that he had just saved Eamon's life had bought him that.
Alim retreated to the ramparts, to think about what he was going to do next.
After supper Leliana retreated to their room, hoping to take advantage in the lull returning to a restored Redcliffe had brought.
Sadly, that was not to be.
She had only just closed her eyes when her latest vision came.
After that…there was no rest to be had.
IOI
She lay on her back, staring up at the stone ceiling, even as the last vestiges of her vision faded.
She shivered.
The cold stone above her did little to erase her fears, if anything they made them clearer in her mind.
In her vision, she had been surrounded by stone and shadow, screams and harsh light. The stone was spattered with blood, blood shed long ago. She shivered as a cold breeze seemed to blow across her, freezing her very soul.
The sensation was not lost to her, in fact in was more than familiar.
For a moment she feared she was back in the Arl of Denerim's palace again, the night that Marjolaine had first betrayed her. She…she had suffered greatly that night, suffered and nearly broke under the mercies of guards entrusted with the extraction of everything she knew.
She tried to fight her way out of it, find the light again, just as she had done on that night so long ago, but unlike then, there was no escape, no respite to be found.
Despair washed over her in a flood, she sank to her knees praying to the Maker for Deliverance.
It was then that she heard a scream. It was filled with anger and pain.
The very sound of it chilled her to the bone.
She tried to rise, to draw her weapons, to fight against the darkness and save the one she loved, but again the shadows proved too strong.
The scream came to her again, and again and again.
She awoke to the darkness, alone in her bed, alone with that horrible sound echoing in her ears.
She knew what had happened.
She knew what was to come.
She swallowed hard.
Soon, her beloved Alim would be screaming in pain, and there would be nothing she could do to stop it.
Nothing.
The very thought chilled her blood.
So far, all of her visions had come true, she had seen Zevran's attack, Branka's madness, the battle with Uldred in the Circle.
All those things had come to pass.
Now faced with this, faced with the suffering of the one she loved most…
She found herself impotent, powerless to stop it.
Had she been anyone else she might have sobbed.
She lay back down, waiting for Alim or the coming dawn. She would tell him what she had seen, but that might do nothing to change it.
She closed her eyes and prayed.
It was all she could do to fight the shadows, but it could not erase what she felt.
The darkness was coming for her dear one.
And…she…was afraid.