Chapter 129: The Rescue
The return to the Arl's estate seemed like the longest journey Leliana had ever taken.
It was all that she could do to keep one foot moving in front of the other. Her heart and mind were at war, spinning like a whirlwind, out of control. Her emotions whipped like a hurricane, bouncing between love and hate, fear and anger, regret and loss.
She barely noticed Morrigan prodding her along, making sure that they made it back to the estate in one piece. Cauthrien might have given her word, but that did not mean that Loghain's men would miss an opportunity if they caught the warden's companions weakened and out on the street.
By the time they entered Eamon's estate, the bard's mind was still spinning. Her emotions were still all over the place. She was grateful to be alive, but terrified for Alim. He…he…
She shook her head.
How could he have done something so foolish, so gut-wrenchingly stupid?!
A single tear fell down her face.
He was a fool, but he was also a brave man, worthy of the greatest hero in any of the tales she had heard growing up. He had sacrificed himself for them. He had wanted them to make it to safety with their prize.
Still…she could not forget her many visions over the past few weeks. Of someone trapped in darkness, being tortured as the shadows closed in.
She whimpered, in spite of herself.
Now…now she knew what the vision had meant. Her love would no doubt he taken to Fort Drakon, if she remembered correctly, that was the place that all enemies of the state were imprisoned, once there…once there…
She shuddered.
What if the Teyrn was not interested in what Alim knew?
What if he decided to simply take his head and be done with it?
What would they do then?
What would she do?
He…her dearest…he…he was…
"Eamon! We have a problem!"
Anora's words woke her out of her near panic.
The Arl of Redcliffe stood before them, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Your Majesty," he gasped.
Leliana blinked.
She had been in a haze, lost; she had not even realized that they had returned to the Arl's study.
Alistair and Theron sat on a small couch, waiting for their allies to return.
Alistair was on his feet first.
"What is it?" he demanded, "what has happened."
Unbidden, Alim's face appeared in her mind's eye. How brave he had been as Cauthrien bound his hands.
"Maker," she murmured, "Watch over our lost friend."
She lowered her head slightly.
"Watch over my beloved," she whispered, wishing no one but the Maker and his bride to hear her.
"The Warden has been captured," the queen informed them, "My father's men took him."
"What?!" Alistair said his eyes wide with disbelief.
"How did this happen," Theron demanded, his silver eyes blazing with barely constrained anger.
Leliana moved quietly away from her companions, she did not need to hear what had led them to this point, she had experienced it first-hand…
Now, she knew, she needed to ask what she was going to do about it.
Suddenly, as quick as the confusion had come, it was gone.
Her eyes narrowed a single question pierced through the emotional mess that had ensnared her. It allowed her to think again.
What are you going to do about it?
Her lips pursed, turning into a grim line, a jagged line of red against her pale skin.
Anger blossomed in her heart, white-hot, and brilliant, like the brightest star in the sky.
Anger is useful, she thought, and far more productive then despair.
You could do things in anger.
Bad things.
She made her way down the hallway, not even bothering to notice an elven servant she almost collided with, she did not even stop to apologize, she just pushed on.
Time for such trivialities later, she thought…
…I have work to do.
IOI
She darted around her room grabbing what she needed. Coin, a vial of sleeping potion, she looked down at her blades.
Daggers or short sword?
She scooped up her daggers.
Easier to hide, and they were better for up-close work.
Her finger absently twirled the braid in her hair, the action helped her think, it helped her focus.
What else, she thought…
What else do I need?
"Going off on our own are we?"
She almost jumped.
Morrigan stood in the doorway, the witch had a sly smile on her face.
Leliana looked away quickly, returning to her work.
She did not have time for the witch now.
"I'm getting Alim back," she said coldly, "Don't try to stop me."
The witch snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.
"On your own, you will fail," she said.
Again Leliana ignored her.
The witch chuckled.
"Which is why I am going with you," she announced.
That stopped the bard cold.
She looked at Morrigan for the first time.
"You…you want to help?"
The Sorceress shrugged.
"We still need Alim," she said matter-of factly, "It is to him that the leaders who signed the treaties pledged themselves, Theron would likely not be able to guarantee such loyalty, and besides…"
The witch shook her head.
"Alistair will be lost without Alim."
Leliana blinked, yet, a hint of a smile came to her lips.
"You…you are doing this for Alistair?"
"Certainly not," the witch said with a snort, "I'm doing this to help our cause. Alim is still our leader after all, and…and…"
The witch frowned slightly.
"I…I have never had a talent for…for forming…friendships. Most men that I have encountered only look upon me with lust in their eyes. Alim…Alim is a friend."
Morrigan sighed.
"I would never leave him to rot, to die ignobly in some dungeon cell. Tis not right, and I will not have it. I will not."
The witch's golden eyes narrowed at the knowing smile on the bard's face.
"I will not," she repeated, "No matter what you think, chantry twit."
Leliana said nothing.
She did not need to…
Morrigan could say what she liked, but Leliana still suspected the truth. It was not just friendship or loyalty to Alim that motivated her actions. Deep down, somewhere past all the arrogance and cruelty…
Morrigan still cared for Alistair, and would do what she could to help him get his friend back, his brother back.
She respected that.
Morrigan put her hands on her hips.
"Well," she said with snort, "Are we going to do this, or are we simply going to stand here staring at each other?"
Leliana smiled.
"We are going to do this," she said stuffing a few items in her pack.
The witch nodded and unslung her staff from her back.
"I take it you have a plan?" she asked.
"The beginnings of one," the bard said, "I still have a few contacts in Denerim, from the old days. Lemm might not be here anymore, but people that he did business with are. They will be able to find out what we need to know."
"And then," the witch asked.
Leliana gave her a sly smile.
"Then we get Alim back, and Maker help anyone that gets in our way."
IOI
Dark storm clouds roiled over Fort Drakon. Thunder rumbled and lightning jumped from cloud to cloud, but the rain still refused to fall.
Leliana glanced up at the clouds, and took comfort from them.
She took those clouds as a good sign, if Alim was no longer among the living; she doubted that the weather would be so…localized to just one location.
She and Morrigan made their way down the bridge leading to the main gate of the Fort. Both women were clad in the robes of chantry sisters, their hands were hidden inside those robes, their hoods pulled up to protect against the sun and the rain.
Next to her, she heard Morrigan sigh.
"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this," the witch complained.
The bard shook her head.
"Give it a chance," she murmured, "Trust me; no one will look twice at a couple of chantry sisters."
The witch grumbled but fell silent, her golden eyes narrowed in quiet anger. It had taken them three days to set this all up; she had no desire to see it fail now.
Leliana pursed her lips.
She had no desire to see this fail either. Had she been able to move sooner than now, she would have, alas, it had taken every moment of the last three days to get everything they needed into place. If something fell apart now, they would not likely get another chance.
She would be damned before she let that happen.
The two approached the gate. The guards standing watch started to approach them.
Leliana's heart skipped with excitement.
No turning back now, she thought.
She put on her most serene expression, and stood a little taller.
Here we go.
IOI
While the two "sisters" spoke with the guards outside the walls. Carver Hawke shoved Alim into a small armory off the main hall.
Alim was about to bitch about that, when the soldier stopped him with a raised hand.
The warden mage froze.
He could hear voices in the hall.
The young soldier remained at the door while he gestured for the elf to take cover. Alim, still weak from his ordeal, had no choice, but to obey.
Carver closed the door, but left it open just enough to listen to what was being said outside.
Four officers passed by, joking as they went. Carver backed away in case one of them decided to open the door and peak inside. He drew his blade, and approached one of the training dummies, if the officers looked in, all they would see was an off duty soldier training with his great sword.
Hopefully that would be enough to make them pass by, if not…
Things would likely get very messy.
Alim shivered as he hid in the shadows, the guards had left him in nothing but his small clothes. His body, a sea of bruises and welts complained as he leaned against the cold hard stone.
The elf glanced around.
He was never getting out here, not exposed like this.
Finally, his rescuer sighed.
The voices were gone, the speakers passed down the hall with barely a glance in their direction. That would change once someone realized the warden was not in his cell.
Carver glanced around, he approached a chest in the back of the room, he reached in pulling out trousers, boots, a shirt and scout's tunic and hood.
He tossed them to Alim.
"Put those on," he said, "We don't have much time."
Alim nodded, he could not say much for his rescuer's manners, but at least they were getting out of here.
That was the important thing.
Alim pulled the shirt over his head, trying to be careful of his wounded ear. The clothes were a little big, but once he had the belt and shoulder straps in place, few would notice.
At least he hoped so.
The elf pulled up the hood; it would hide the bruises on his face. He raised his hand, trying to summon magic.
His rescuer's head snapped around.
"None of that," he spat.
Alim lowered his hand.
"Why?" he demanded.
"There are Templars stationed here too, fool," he growled, "if one of them senses your magic…"
Alim cursed himself, swearing under his breath.
The soldier had a point, but…
He gave the young man a suspicious look.
"How did you know I was trying to cast?"
"Later," his rescuer said, he dared glance out into the hall finding it empty.
"Let's go," he said moving even before Alim had a chance to join him.
The elf swore under his breath.
"How are we going to get out of here?" he asked in a low voice.
"The guard changes in about five minutes," Carver said, "There will be enough of a window then that we should be able to slip out. When we reach the main hall, just keep your head down, and don't talk to anyone, no one will look too closely at a scout going out on patrol."
Alim's good ear twitched.
"Should?" he asked.
Carver shot him a look.
"It will work," he said trying to give the elf a reassuring smile.
Alim frowned.
The boy had tried, and failed.
Still…what more could they do? They did not have much time before someone noticed that he was not in one of the torture chambers or back in his cell.
Then the alarm would go out.
Then…they would be screwed.
Carver led the way, to Alim it seemed that they were going in circles but the soldier seemed to know where he was going.
"Trust me," Carver said, "I've been stationed here for the last two months."
He smiled again.
"I know where I'm going."
Alim said nothing.
It was not like he could go back to his cell if his guide was wrong. He…
"STOP!"
Carver raised a hand.
They heard soft voices and the sound of footsteps approaching.
Carver and Alim took cover behind one of the many pillars near them, the shadows hid them.
The voices grew louder.
Alim's eyes narrowed.
Someone was coming.
Carver drew a dagger from his belt and handed it to the elf.
"Just in case," he mouthed.
Alim nodded, and took the blade.
Just in case.
The elf's brow furrowed.
He thought of trying to call on his magic, but he could still feel the mage's bane buzzing in his head.
He would find no help on that front, at least for now.
The voices grew louder still. He now recognized them as female.
His eyes widened slightly.
No, he thought it could not be?
"We should remove these fool disguises," a haughty voice said, "No one would believe them at this point."
"Not yet," an Orlesian sounding voice answered, "We may yet get some use out of them."
Two chantry sisters passed by them, Alim slid the dagger into his belt and stepped out behind them.
Carver glared but started to follow ready to back the warden up.
He had not needed to.
The elf grabbed the sister by the wrist and spun her around. A weapon appeared in her hand, but the elf was faster, he pinned that arm behind her back and pulled her close.
He silenced any scream that might have emerged with a quick, yet fiery kiss."
Both Carver and the other chantry sister froze unsure what to make of this.
When the warden and the chantry sister broke, they both smiled.
"Alim?" Leliana gasped, part with joy, part with surprise.
"Hi Leli," he said with a smirk.
"Fancy meeting you here."